AYJ^. 
 
 rsity of California. 
 
 FROM -1 Hi, I.il;;:.\KV ( '1- 
 
 I.)K. |-k.\\ClS LIEBER. 
 I'l^ts-^ov cf History and Law in Columbia College, Neu Y..vk. 
 
 MICHAEL REESE, 
 
 Of San Francisco. 
 
 Hh' 
 
^^^^££_^^A 
 
 PEOPLE'S XJBRART. 
 
 The edit5^ and publishers should receive the thanks of the present 
 generation, and the gratitude of posterity, for being the first to prepare in 
 this language what deserves to be entitled not the ENCYCLOPAEDIA 
 AMERICANA, but the people's library."— iV. Y. Courier and Enquirer. 
 
 Just Published, by Carey df Lea, 
 
 And sold in Philadelphia by E. L. Carey ^ A. Hart ; in New-York by 
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 Richmond by JH. Nash; in Savannah by TV: T. Williams; in Charleston 
 by W. H. Berrett ; in New-Orleans by \\. M'Kean ; in Mobile by Odiome 
 ^ Smith ; and by the principal booksellers throughout the Union. 
 
 VOLUME 7, 
 CONTAINING ABOUT 1,500 ARTICLES, 
 
 {To he cojitinued at intervals of three months,) 
 
 OF THE 
 
 ENCYCLOPEDIA AMERICANA: 
 
 A 
 
 POPULAR DICTIONARY 
 
 OP 
 
 ARTS, SCIENCES, LITERATURE, HISTORY, AND POLITICS, 
 
 BROOOHT DOWN TO THE PRESENT TIMB, AND INCLUDINO A. COPIOfg 
 COLLECTION OT ORIGINAL ARTICLES IN 
 
 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY: 
 
 On the basis of the Seventh Edition of the German 
 
 CONVERSATIONS-LEXICON. 
 
 Edited by FRANCIS LIEBER, 
 
 ASSISTED BY 
 
 EDWARD WIGGLESWORTII and T. G. BRADFORD, Esqrs. 
 
 IN TWELVE LARGE VOLUMES, OCTAVO, PRICE TO SL^SCRIBERS. 
 BOUND IN CLOTH, TWO DOLLARS AND A HALF EACH. 
 EACH VOLUME WILL CONTAIN BETWEEN GOO AND 700 PAGES. 
 
 "THE WORLD-RENOWNED CONVERSATIONS-LEXICON."— riinJwr^A 
 Review. 
 
 " To supersede cumbrous Encyclopsedias, and put within the reach of the poor- 
 est man, a complete library, equal to about forty or fifty pood-sized octavos, em- 
 bracing every possible subject of interest to the number of 20,000 in all— provided 
 he can spare either from his earnings or his extravaffancies. twenty cents a week, 
 for three years, a library so contrived, as to be equally suited to the learned and 
 the unlearned,— the mechanic— the merchant, and the professional man."— JV. Y. 
 Courier and Inquirer. 
 
 " The reputation of this valuable work has augmented with each volume; and 
 if the unanimous opinion of the press, uttered from all quarters, be true, which 
 in this instance happens to be the case, it is indeed one of the best of publica- 
 tions. It should l)e in the possession of every intelligent man, as it is a library 
 in itself, comprising an immense mass of lore ujwn almost every possible sub- 
 ject, and in the cheapest possible form." — JV. Y. Mirror. 
 
ENCYCLOPEDIA AMERICANA. 
 
 More than half of the volumes of this work are now before the public, 
 and the reception they have met with is the best evidence that the publish- 
 ers have fulfilled the promises made at its outset. They have now only to 
 promise, for the editors and themselves, that no exertion shall be spared to 
 render the remaining volumes equal to those already published, and thus 
 sustain the reputation it has acquired. The subscription is large, and in- 
 creasing ; and in those quarters where its circulation is greatest, and where 
 it is best known, there is a constantly increasing demand. The publishers 
 invite the attention of those who may not already have possessed themselves 
 of it, or may not have had an opportunity to become acquainted with its 
 merits, to the following account of the original work, upon which it is 
 based, and which is termed by the Edinburgh Review — 
 
 THE WORLD-RKNOWNBD LEIPZIG COxWERSATIONS LEXICON. 
 
 It was intended to supply a want occasioned by the character of the 
 age, in which the sciences, arts, trades, and the various forms of know- 
 ledge and of active life, had become so much extended and diversified, 
 that no individual engaged in business could become well acquainted with 
 all subjects of general interest ; while the wide diffusion of information 
 rendered such knowledge essential to the character of an accomplished 
 man. This want, no existing works were adequate to supply. Books treat- 
 ing of particular branches, such as gazetteers, &c. were too confined in 
 character; while voluminous Encyclopaedias were too learned, scientific, 
 and cumbrous, being usually elaborate treatises, requiring much study or 
 previous acquaintance with the subject discussed. The conductors of 
 the Conversation Lexicon endeavored to select from every branch of 
 knowledge what was necessary to a well-informed mind, and to give poput 
 lar views of the more abstruse branches of learning and science ; tha- 
 their readers might not be incommoded, and deprived of pleasure or im- 
 provement, by ignorance of facts or expressions used in books or conversa- 
 tion. Such a work must obviously be of great utility to every class of 
 readers. It has been found so much so in Germany, that it is met with 
 everywhere, among the learned, the lawyers, the military, artists, mer- 
 chants, mechanics, and men of all stations. The reader may judge how 
 well it is adapted to its object, from the circumstance, that though it now 
 consists of twelve volumes, seven editions, comprising about one hun- 
 dred THOUSAND COPIES, have been printed in less than fifteen years. It 
 has been translated into the Swedish, Danish and Dutch languages, and a 
 French translation is now preparing in Paris. 
 
 In the preparation of the American edition, no expense has been spared 
 to secure the ablest assistance, and the editors have been aided by many 
 gentlemen of distinguished ability. 
 
 The American Biography, which is very extensive has been furnished 
 by Mr. Walsh, who has long paid particular attention to that branch of 
 our literature, and from materials in the collection of which he has been 
 engaged for some years. For obvious reasons, the notices of distinguished 
 Americans will be confined to deceased individuals: the European biogra- 
 phy contains notices of all distinguished Uving characters, as well as 
 those of past times. 
 
 The articles on Zoology and the various branches of Natural Science, 
 and those on Chemistry and Mineralogy, have been prepared expressly for 
 this work by gentlemen distinguished in the several departments. 
 
 In relation to the Fine Arts, the work is exceedingly rich. Great atten- 
 tion was given to this in the German work, and the Editors have been 
 anxious to render it, by the necessary additions, as perfect as possible. 
 
 To gentlemen of the Bar, the work will be peculiarly valuable, as in 
 cases where legal subjects are treated, an account is given of English, 
 F>ench, German and American Law. 
 
.' WitnPsseg from every part of the country concurred in declaring that the 
 Enc^ oSTa AmSiwna was in a fair way to degrade the d.gn.ty of learning 
 l!.ncyciopa!aiartiii g jj ^^j^j^ ^^ ^^^ cAcap— that the 
 
 ^"'^.^^f^'^'V^'S c,a"=2s^^^^^^^ it in saying in so many words 
 
 SomthphthesI to the lowest, • the more we see of the work the better we like 
 it ' "_JV. Y. Courier and Inquirer. 
 
 '" ThP articles in the present volume appear to us to evince the same ability 
 «nH rptalch wh ch cained so favorable a reception for the work at its com- 
 and research ^^f ''^^ f;''l^" „ t,,e volume now before us, containing an account 
 o"fX'S"an Ii^«%«S/o/^«^^^^ Pr«ve highly interesting to the reader 
 
 r. h s'cotnuv; fndft isit once remarkable as a speximen of »»lory and ph.- 
 
 '" '^^'^'Sw^rSllog the we maVa7ai^ be permitted to observe reflects 
 distinguiTheVcreSit Un thejiterarya.ul scientific character, as well as the 
 
 lology. 
 
 sciiola'rship of our country."— CAaWcsron Conner. 
 
 "ThP conious information which this work affords on American subjects, 
 f„iJS.«=tS its title of an American Dictionary; while at the same time the 
 eS vL^Ltv aid^ disposition of its topics, make it the "lost con^^- 
 
 nlen? and satisfactory Encyclopaedia that we have ever se^nr-JfaUonalJoumal. 
 
 " If the succeeding volumes shall equal in merit the one before us, we may 
 
 i ,;„, J intirinatp for the work a reputation and usefulness which ought to 
 
 ecu^Sit^SS'tl/Srtg'ncouragJment and patron age."-Fe«^.ra/ Ga-Mte. 
 
 "ThP variety of topics is of course vast, and they are treated in a manner 
 whi?hisI?on(J so ful of information and so interesting, that the vvork,instead 
 rfbe!ligmereirre?erred to, might be regularly perused with as much pleasure as 
 
 P'^' W^vfcw ira7aTbnra"i worthy of the age and of the country and can- 
 not but iili^ve the discrimination of our countrymen w«» «"ff '" J* ^1^"^}: 
 ?rs, and well reward them for this contribution to American Literature. -Bal 
 timore Patriot. .. „-« 
 
 those who have been concerned in its pro- 
 
 
 formktion could have been so satisfactorily communicated 
 
 compendious dictionary 
 
 which has yet been c 
 
 and perspicuous; and 
 
 formation could have 
 
 —J\r. Y. Evening Post. . „ ^ 
 
 •• A compendious library, and invaluable book of reference."-JV. Y. American. 
 
 " Those who can, by any honest modes of economy, reserve the sum of two 
 dollars aU fifty cents q.iarterly, from their family expenses, may pay for this 
 wo k as fast as U^s published ; and we confidently believe that they wU find at 
 The end that thev never purchased so much general, practical, useful information 
 at so cheap a rate."— ./oMrnaZo/£i/McaMon. ..,.., ,„,„„„ 
 
 •' Tf the Pncourairempnt to the publishers should correspond with the tcstiniony 
 in favirorthe ir eSpr se, and the beautiful and faithful style of its execution 
 
 cessors " — American Farmer. 
 
 "TbP hi'ih renutation of the contrib.iiors to this work, will not fail to insure 
 it a fe^oriSe reception, and it. own merits will do the resf."-S.«iman'. Journ. 
 
 " ThP work will be a valuable possession to every family or individual that 
 ran aflbrd to purchase it; and we take pleasure, therefore, m extending the 
 knowledge of its merits."— JVationaZ Intelligencer. 
 
 '•The EncvlopjEdia Americana is a prodigious imP'-o^f'"f"\»P9" ^"/jf *r^th' 
 ,ronp hpfore it • a thing for our country, as well as the country that have it birtli, 
 S b^ S d of; an nexhaustible treasury of useful, pleasant, and familiar learn- 
 nron^ every possible subject, so arranged as to be speedily «»^ safety referred to 
 on%mergency, as well as on deliberate inquiry; and better still, adapted to the 
 understanding, and put within the reach of the multitude. * * * 1 he i.ncy 
 XSa Americana is a work without which no library worthy of the name 
 can hereafter be made u^}."— Yankee. 
 
ENCYCLOPAEDIA AMERICANA. 
 
 " This work appears to improve as it issues from the press. The numl)er of 
 able writers, who contribute original matter in all the departments of literature 
 and science is amply sufficient to give it celebrity and high character. To men 
 engaged in ths active pursuits of life— whose time is precious— this popular dic- 
 tionary is a most valuable and ready mode of reference. It embraces brief 
 views and sketches of all the late discoveries in science — and the present condi- 
 tion of literature, politics, &.c. See. Every merchant's counting-room— every 
 lawyer's library — every mechanic— every farmer ought to possess a copy of this 
 useful and valuable work." — Courier. 
 
 "From the specimen which has already been given, w^e have no hesitation in 
 saying, that in regard to intelligence, skill, and faithful diligence, it is a work 
 of the very highest order. We know of no similar publication that can bear 
 any comparison with it for the rich variety of valuable information, which it 
 condenses within so small a compass. It is free from all the narrowness of Eng- 
 lish prejudice, it contains many important and interesting details wiiich can be 
 found in no English production, and is a work which could be written by none 
 but German scholars, more than two hundred of whom were employed in the 
 original compilation."— jB<w<(m Observer. 
 
 " This cannot but prove a valuable addition to the literature of the age."— 
 Mer. Advertiser. 
 
 *' The vast circulation this work has had in Europe, where it has already been 
 reprinted in four or five languages, not to speak of the numerous German edi- 
 tions, of which SEVEN have been published, speaks loudly in favor of its intrinsic 
 merit, without which such a celebrity could never have been attained. To every 
 man engaged in public business, who needs a correct and ample book of refer- 
 ence on various topics of science and letters, the Encyclopeedia Americana will 
 be almost invaluable. To individuals obliged to go to situations where books 
 are neither numerous nor easily procured, the rich contents of these twelve vol- 
 umes will prove a mine which will amply repay its purchaser, and be with diffi- 
 culty exhausted ; and we recommend it to their patronage in the full conviction 
 of its worth. Indeed, it is difficult to say to what class of readers such a book 
 would not prove useful, nay, almost indispensable, since it combines a great 
 amount of valuable matter in small compass, and at moderate expense, and is 
 in every respect well suited to augment the reader's stock of ideas, and powers 
 of conversation, without severely taxing time or fatiguing attention." — Am 
 Daily Advertiser. 
 
 "The department of American Biography, a subject of which it should be dis- 
 graceful to be ignorant, to the degree that many are, is, in this work, a promi- 
 nent feature, and has received the attention of one of the most indefatigable 
 writers in this department of literature, which the present age can furnish."— 
 Boston Courier. 
 
 " According to the plan of Dr. Lieber, a desideratum will be supplied ; the sub- 
 stance of contemporary knowledge will be brought within a small compass ;— 
 and the character and uses of a manual will be imparted to a kind of publica- 
 tion heretofore reserved, on strong shelves, for occasional reference. By those 
 who understand the German langiiage, the Conversation Lexicon is consulted ten 
 times for one application to any English Encyclopedia."— JVaiionaZ Gazette. 
 
 " The volume now published is not only highly honorable to the taste, ability, 
 and industry of its editors and publishers, but furnishes a proud sample of the 
 accuracy and elegance with wnich tho most elaborate and importajit literary 
 enterprises may now be accomplished in our country. Of tlie manner in which 
 the editors have thus far completed their task, it is impossible, in the course of a 
 brief newspaper article, to speak with adequate justice."— fios<ore Bulletin. 
 
 " It continues to be particularly rich in the departments of Biography and 
 Natural History. When we look at the large mass of miscellaneous knowledge 
 spread before the reader, in a form which has never been equalled for its conden- 
 sation, and conveyed in a style that cannot be surpassed for propriety and pet- 
 spicuity, we cannot but think that the American Encycloiwedia deesrves a 
 place in every collection, in which works of reference form a portion."— Sou<A- 
 em Patriot. • 
 
 " By far the bc«t work of tlw kind ever offered for sale in thi« country ."- 
 U. S. Oai 
 
CABKVET CYCIiOPiEDIA, 
 
 CONDUCTED BY THE 
 
 REV. DIONYSIUS LARDNER, LL.D. F.R.S. L.&.E. 
 M.R.I.A. F.L.S. F.Z.S. Hon.F.C.P.S. M. Ast. S. &e. &c. 
 
 ASSISTED BY 
 
 EMINENT LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC MEN. 
 
 Now Publishing by Carey ^ Lea, and for sale by all Booksellers. 
 
 Tms work will form a popular compendium of whatever is useful, instructive, 
 anil interesting, in the circle of human knowledge. A novel plan of publication 
 and arrangement has been adopted, which presents peculiar advantages. With- 
 out fully detailing the method, a few of these advantages may be mentioned. 
 
 Each volume will contain one or more subjects uninterrupted and unbroken, 
 and will be accompanied by the corresponding plates or other appropriate illus- 
 trations. Facility of reference will be obtained without fettering the work by 
 a continued alphabetical arrangement. A subscriber may omit particular vol- 
 umes or sets of volumes, without disintegrating his series. Thus each purdiaser 
 may form from the 'Cabinet" a Cyclopedia, more or less comprehensive, as 
 may suit his means, taste, or profession. If a subscriber desire to discontinue 
 the work at any stage of its publication, the volumes which he may have re- 
 ceived will not lose their value by separation from the roet of the work, since 
 they will always either be complete in themselves, or may be made so at a trifling 
 expense. 
 
 The purchasers will never find their property in this work destroj'ed by the 
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 umes may be re-edited or re-written without disturbing the others. The "Cabi- 
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 from year to year whatever is new, and casting off whatever is obsolete, so as to 
 form a constantly modernized CycIofXKdia. Such are a few of the advantages 
 which the proprietors have to offer to the public, and which they pk;dge them- 
 .selves to realize. 
 
 Treati.nes on subjects which are technical and professional will be adapted, 
 not so much to those who desire to attain a practical proficiency, as to those 
 who seek that portion of information resp^jcting such matters which is generally 
 e.xpiicted from well-educated persons. An interest will be imparted to what is 
 abritract by copious illustrations, and the sciences will be rendered attractive, by 
 treating them with reference to the most familiar objects and occurrences. 
 
 The uiiwieldly bulk of Encyclopaedias, not less than the abstruse discussions 
 which thoy contain, has hitherto consigned them to the library, as works of only 
 occasional reference. 'J'he present work, from its portable form and popular style, 
 will claim a place in the drawing-room and the boudoir. Forming in itself a 
 Complete Library, aflbrding an extensive and infinitely varied store of instruc- 
 tion and amusement, presenting just so much on every subject as those not pro- 
 fessionally engaged in it require, convenient in size, attractive in form, elegant 
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 To the heads of schools and all places of public education the proprietors trust 
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 It seems scarcely necessary to add, that nothing will be admitted into the 
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 to offend public or private morals. To enforce the cultivation of religion and 
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 work feels these considerations more especially pressed upon his attention. 
 Parents and guardians may, therefore, rest assured that they will never find it 
 necessary to place a volume of the "Cabinet" beyond the reach of their children 
 or pupils. 
 
LARDNER'S CABINET CYCLOPAEDIA. 
 
 CoNsiDERABLB progress having been made in this work, the publishers 
 wish to direct the attention of the public to the advantages by which it 
 is distinguished from other similar monthly publications. 
 
 It is not intended that the Cabinet Cyclopaedia shall form an intermi- 
 nable series, in which any work of interest which may present itself from 
 time to time can claim a place. Its subjects are classified according to 
 the usual divisions of literature, science, and art. Each division is distinctly 
 traced out, and will consist of a determinate number of volumes. Al- 
 though the precise extent of the work cannot be fixed with certainty, yet 
 there is a limit which will not be exceeded ; and the subscribers may look 
 forward to the possession, within a reasonable time, of a complete 'ibrarv 
 of instruction, amusement, and general reference, in the regular form oj" 
 a popular Cvclopmdia. 
 
 The several classes of the work are— 1, NATURAL PHILOSOPHY; 2, 
 The USEFUL and FINE ARTS; 3, NATURAL HISTORY; 4, GEOG- 
 RAPHY ; 5, POLITICS and MORALS ; 6, GENERAL LITERATURE 
 and CRITICISM ; 7, HISl'ORY ; 8, BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 In the above abstruse and technical departments of knowledge, an at- 
 tempt has been made to convey to the reader a general acquaintance with 
 these subjects, by the use of plain and familiar language, appropriate 
 and well-executed engravings, and copious examples and illufitrations, 
 taken from objects and events with which every one is acquainted. 
 
 The proprietors formerly pledged themselves that no exertion should 
 be spared to obtain the support of the most distinguished talent of the age. 
 They trust that they have redeemed that pledge. Among th« volumes 
 already published in the literary department, no less than four have been 
 the production of men who stand in the first rank of literary talent, — Sir 
 James Mackintosh and Sir Walter Scott. In the scientific department, a 
 work has been produced from the pen of Mr. Herschel, which has been 
 pronounced by the highest living authority on subjects of general philoso- 
 phy, to contain '• the noblest observations on the value of knowledge 
 which have been made since Bacon," and to be " the finest work of phi- 
 losophical genius which this age has seen." 
 
 The following is a selection from the list of Contributors. 
 
 The Right Honorable Sir JAMES MACKINTOSH, M.P. 
 
 The Right Rev The Lord Bishop of Cloyne. 
 
 Sir WALTER SCOTT, Bart. 
 
 JOHN FREDERICK WILLIAM HERSCHEL, Esq. 
 
 THOMAS MOORE, Esq. 
 
 J. B. BIOT, Member of the French Institute. 
 
 ROBERT SOUTHEY, Esq. Poet Laureate. 
 
 The Baron CHARLES DUPIN, Member of tlie Royal Institute and 
 
 Chamber of Deputies. 
 THOMAS CAMPBELL, Esq. T. B. MACAULEY, Esq. M.P. 
 
 DAVID BREVVST1':R, LL.D. J. C. L. SISMONDI, of Geneva. 
 
 Cap^- HENRY KATKR, Vice President of the Royal Society. 
 The ASTRONOMER ROYAL. DA VIES GILBERT, Esq. M.P. 
 
 S. T. COLE RI DG E, Esq . JAMES MONTGOMERY, Esq. 
 
 The Right IIon.T. P. COURTENAY, M.P. 
 J. J. BERZHLIUS, of Stockholm, F.R.S., &c. 
 The Rev. G. R. GLEIG. 
 T. PHILLIPS, Esq. Prof of Painting, R.A. 
 Rev. C. TIIIRLWALL, Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. 
 ANDREW URE, M.D. F.R.S. &c. &c. &c. 
 
DR. Z.ARDNEXl'S 
 CABITOST €YCL.OP^DIA, 
 
 VOLUMES PUBIilSHED. 
 
 I. II.— HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. By Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 III. VI.— HISTORY OF ENGLAND. By Sir Jajvies Mackintosh. In 
 8 Vols. Vols. I. and II. 
 
 IV.— OUTLINES OF HISTORY. 
 
 v.— HISTORY OF the NETHERLANDS. By T. C. Grattan, Esq. 
 
 VII. VIII.— HISTORY OF FRANCE. By Eyre Evans Crowe. In 3 
 Vols. Vols. Land IL 
 
 IX.— MECHANICS. By Capt. Kater and Dr. Lardner, (complete.) 
 
 X.— A PRELIMINARY DISCOURSE on the OBJECTS, ADVAN- 
 TAGES, AND PLEASURES OF the STUDY of NATURAL PIULOSO- 
 PHY. In 1 Vol. By J. F. W. Herschel, Esq. 
 
 N. B. — This work forms the Introduction or Preface to the Cabinet 
 of Natural Philosophy in the Cyclopaedia. 
 
 XI.— BIOGRAPHY of EMINENT BRITISH STATESMEN, (nearly 
 ready.) 
 
 XII.— HYDROSTATICS and PNEUMATICS. By Dr. Lardner, (near- 
 ly ready.) 
 
 XIII.— A TREATISE on OPTICS. By Dr. Brewster, (nearly ready.) 
 
 VOLUIHES IN IMJIEDIATE PREPARATION, 
 
 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. Vol. IIL 
 
 HISTORY OF MARITIME and INLAND DISCOVERY. In 3 Vols. 
 
 LIVES OF EMINENT BRITISH LAWYERS. In 1 Vol. By H. Ros- 
 
 COE, Esq. 
 
 The HISTORY of the WESTERN WORLD. In 4 Vols. Vol. I. The 
 UNITED STATES of AMERICA. 
 
 Two volumes of this w-ork, nearly ready, will complete the History 
 of the United States to the present time. The two remaining volumes 
 will be devoted to South America and the West India Islands. 
 A HISTORY OF IRELAND, to the UNION. In 2 Vols. By T. Moore, 
 
 A PRELIMINARY DISCOURSE on the USEFUL ARTS and MANU- 
 FACTURES. By the Baron Charles Dupin, Member of the Institute 
 of France and of the Chamber of Deputies. 
 
 A HISTORY OF THE MOORS. In 3 Vols. By Robert Southey, Esq. 
 
 LIVES OF the most EMINENT LITERARY MEN of ALL NA- 
 TIONS. In 8 Vols. By Scott, Southey, Moore, Mackintosh, 
 Montgomery, Cunningham, and all the principal Literary and Scientific 
 Contributors to the Cyclopeedia. 
 
 A TREATISE on ASTRONOMY. By J. F. W. Herschel, Esq. 
 
 GEOGRAPHY. In 4 Vols. By W. Cooley, Esq. author of the " History 
 of Maritime Discovery." 
 
 LIVES OF the most DISTINGUISHED BRITISH NAVAL COM- 
 MANDERS. By R. So-uthey, Esq. 
 
 LIVES OF THE MOST DISTINGUISHED BRITISH MILITARY COM- 
 MANDERS. By the Rev. G. R. Gleig. 
 
 HISTORY OF THE ITALIAN REPUBLICS. By J. C. L. Sismondi. 
 
 The history op GREECE. In 3 Vols. By the Rev. C. Thirlwall. 
 
 LIVES OF EMINENT BRITISH ARTISTS. By W. Y. Otley, Esq. 
 and T. Phit-lips, R. A. Professor of Painting to the Royal Academy. 
 
 A TREATISE on ELECTRICITY and MAGNETISM. By M. Biot, 
 Member of the French Institute. 
 
LARDNER S CABINET CYCLOPAEDIA. 
 
 " BOOKS THAT YOC MAY CARRY TO THE FIRE, AND HOLD READILY IN YOUR 
 HAND, ARE THE MOST USEFUL AFTER ALL. A MAN WILL OFTEN LOOK AT 
 THEM, AND BE TEMPTED TO GO ON, WHEN HE WOULD HAVE BEEN FRIGHTENED 
 AT BOOKS OF A LARGER SIZE, AND OF A MORE ERUDITE APPEARANCE." 
 
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 "We advisedly call the Cabinet Cyclopaedia a great undertaliing, because we 
 consider, that in its effects on the tone and habits of thought of what is known 
 by the phrase, ' the reading public,' it will be, if carried through in the spirit of 
 its projection and commencement, one of the most invaluable productions of 
 modern litcratiirp. * * 
 
 " But these advantages, eminent as they undoubtedly are, are not the sole nor 
 the chief recommendations of the Cabinet Cyclopaedia. Neither is it on the ex- 
 treme cheapness of the publication, nor the federal independence— if we may so 
 speak— of its several volumes, that we rest our prediction of its influence on the 
 tone of thinking of the present, and on the literature of the ne.xt generation — 
 but on the promise, amounting almost to a moral certainty, of the great excel- 
 lence of its execution. A multitude of persons eminent in literature and science 
 in the United kingdom are employed in this undertaking; and, indeed, no others 
 should be employed in it; for it is a truth that the profound and practised writer 
 alone is capable of furnishing a ' popular compendium.' 
 
 " What parent or guardian that throws his eye over the list of its contributors 
 but must be rejoiced by meeting the names of those who are in themselves a 
 guarantee of intellectual and moral excellence ? "—ittcrary Oazette, 
 
 " The plan of the work appears well adapted to the purpose it is proposed to 
 fulfil— that of supplying a series of publications, embracing the whole range of 
 literature and science, in a popular and portable form ; while the excellence of 
 the execution is guarantied by the judgment displayed in the selection of writers. 
 The list of authors employed in this ambitious undertaking comprises some of 
 the most eminent men of the present age."—jlUas. 
 
 " The CyclopjEdia, when complete, will form a valuable work of reference, as 
 well as a most entertaining and instructive library. It is an essential principle 
 in every part of it, that it should be clear and easily understood, and that an 
 attempt should everywhere be made to unite accurate information with an 
 agreeable manner of conveying it. It is an experiment to try how much science 
 may be taught with little crabbed or technical language, and how far the philo- 
 sophical and poetical qualities of history may be preserved in its more condensed 
 tate. It possesses also the most indispensable of all the qualities of a work 
 n tended for general instruction — that of cheapness. Whatever the plan might 
 be, it was evident that the grand difliculty of Dr. Lardn(;r was to unite a body 
 of writers in its execution, whose character or works afforded the most probable 
 hope that they were fitted for a task of which the peculiarity, the novelty, and 
 even the prevalent relish for such writings greatly enhance the difliculty. We 
 do not believe, that in the list of contributors, there is one name of which the 
 enlightened part of the public would desire the exclusion. 
 
 " In science, the list is not less promising. The names of the President, Vice- 
 Presidents, and most distinguished Fellows of the Royal Society, are contained 
 in it. A treatise on astronomy, by Herschel ; on optics, by Brewster ; and on 
 mechanics, by Lardner ; need be only recommended by the subjects and the wri- 
 ters. An eminent Prelate, of the first rank in science, has undertaken a noble 
 bject which happily combines philosophy with religion. Twelve of the most 
 distinguished naturalists of the age. Fellows of the Linntpan and Zoological 
 Societies, are preparing a course of natural history. Others not I»!ss eminent in 
 literature and science, whose names it is not needful yet to mention, have shown 
 symptoms of an ambition to take a place among such fellow-laborers."— 7'jmei-. 
 " The topics, .is may be supposed, are both judiciously selected and treated 
 with ability. To general readers, and as part of a family library, the volumes 
 already published possess great recommemlations. For the external beauties of 
 good printing and paper they merit equal commendation." — Bait, jimerican. 
 
 " The uniform neatness of these volumes, their very moderate price, and the 
 quantity of information which they contain, drawn from the l)est and most 
 attractive sources, have given them deserved celebrity, and no one who desires 
 to possess such information, should hesitate a moment to add them to his 
 library." — Fed. Oazette. 
 
 " This excellent work continues to incre.ise in public favor, and to receive 
 fresh acccs.sions of force to its cor|)s of contributors"— /.^^ Oazette. 
 
 " Its plan and arrangement are entitled to our best commendations."— Gcnf. 
 Maff. 
 
LARDNER'S CABINET CYCLOP-^EDIA. 
 
 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. By Sir James Mackiutosli* Ii& 8 
 Vols* Vols. 1 and fi pubUslied. 
 
 " In the first volume of Sir James Mackintosh's History of England, we find 
 enough to warrant the anticipations of the public, that a calm and luminous 
 philosophy will diffuse itself over the long narrative of our British History."— 
 FAinhurgh Review. 
 
 " In this volume Sir James Mackintosh fully developes those great powers, for 
 the possession of which the public have long given him credit. The result is the 
 ablest commentarj' that has yet appeared in our language upon some of the most 
 important circumstances of English History."— w3t/oa. 
 
 " Worthy in the method, style, and reflections, of the author's high reputation. 
 We were particularly pleased with his high vein of philosophical sentiment, and 
 his occasional survey of contemporary annals."- JVotioTia/ OazeUe. 
 
 " If talents of the highest order, long experience in politics, and years of ap- 
 plication to the«tudy of history and the collection of information, can command 
 superiority in ahistorian. Sir James Mackintosh may, without reading this work, 
 l)e said to have produced the best history of this country. A perusal of the 
 work will prove that those who anticipated a superior production, have not reck- 
 oned in vain on the high qualifications of the author."— Oourier. 
 
 " Our anticipations of this volume were certainly very highly raised, and un- 
 like such anticipations in general, they have not been disappointed. A philo- 
 sophical spirit, a nervous style, and a full knowledge of the subject, acquired by 
 considerable research into the works of preceding chroniclers and historians, 
 eminently distinguish this popular abridgment, and cannot fail to recommend it 
 to universal approbation. In continuing his work as he has begun. Sir James 
 Mackintosh will confer a great benefit on his country."— Lend. Lit. OaieUe. 
 
 "Of its general merits, and its permanent value, it is impossible to ?pcak, 
 without the highest commendation, and after a careful and attentive perusal of 
 the two volumes which have been published, we arc enabled to declare that, so 
 far. Sir James Mackintosh has performed the duty to which he was assigned, 
 with all the ability that was to be expected from his ^reat previous attainments, 
 his laborious industry in investigation, his excellent judgment, his superior tal- 
 ents, and his honorable principles."— /n^uirer. 
 
 " We shall probably extract^the whole of his view of the reformation, merely 
 to show how that ini|)ortant topic has been handled by go able and philosophical 
 a writer, professing Protestantism. — National Oaiette. 
 
 "■ The talents of Sir Jamei Mackintosh are so justly and deeply respected, that 
 a strong interest is necessarily excited with regard to any work which such a 
 distinguished writer may think fit to undertake. In the present instance, as in 
 all others, our expectations are fully gratified." — Oentleman's Magazine. 
 
 " The second volume of the History of England, forming the sixth of Carey & 
 Lea's Cabinet Cyclopaedia, has been sent abroad, and entirely su-stains the repu- 
 tation of its predecessors. The various factions and dissensions, the important 
 trials and battles, which render this period so conspicuous in the page of history, 
 are all related with great clearness and masterly power."— .Boston Traveller. 
 
 HISTORY OF SCOTIiAND. By Sir IValter Scott* In » Vol«. 
 
 " The History of Scotland, by Sir Walter Scott, we do not hesitate to declare, 
 will be, if possible, more extensively read, than the most popular work of fiction, 
 by the same prolific author, and for this obvious reason: it combines much of the' 
 brilliant coloring of the Ivanhoe pictures of by-gone manners, and all the grace- 
 ful facility of style and picturesqueness of description of his other charming ro- 
 mances, with a minute fidelity to the facts of history, and a searching scrutiny 
 into their authenticity and relative value, which might put to the blush Mr. 
 Hume and other professed historians. Such is the magic charm of Sir Walter 
 Scott's pen. It has only to touch the simplest incident ofevery-day life, and it starts 
 up invested with all the interest of a scene of romance ; and yet such is his fideli- 
 ty to the text of nature, that the knights, and serfs, and collared fools with whom 
 his inventive genius has pfjopled so many volumes, are regarded by us as not 
 mere creations of fancy, but as real flesh and blood existences, with all the vir- 
 tues, feelings and errors of common-place humanity."— i4«. Gazette. 
 
V 
 
 LARDNER'S CABINET CYCLOPAEDIA. 
 
 ' OF THE MANY WORKS WHICH HAVE BEEN LATELY P0BLISHED IN IMITATION, OR 
 ON THE PLAN ADOPTED BY THE SOCIETY FOR THE DIFFUSION OF USEFUL KNOW- 
 LEDGE, DR. LARDNER'S CYCLOPJEDIA IS BY MUCH THE MOST VALUABLE, AND 
 THE MOST RECOMMENDED BY DISTINGUISHED ASSISTANCE, SCIENTIFIC AND LIT- 
 
 ETARY." — Edinburgh Review. 
 
 HISTORY OP FRANCE. By Eyre Evans Crowe. In 3 vols. 
 
 HISTORY OF FRANCE, from tlie Restoration of the Bonr- 
 I>ons, to the Revolution of 1830. By T. B. Macaulay, Esq. 
 M. P. Nearly ready. 
 
 " The Style is concise and clear ; and events are summed up with much vigor 
 and originality."— /Jf. Gazette. 
 
 " His history of France is worthy to figure with the works of his associates, 
 the best of their day, Scott and Mackintosh."— JIforatA/y Mag. 
 
 " For such a task Mr. Crowe is eminently qualified. At a glance, as it were, 
 his eye takes in the theatre of centuries. His style is neat, clear, and pithy ; and 
 his power of condensation enables him to say much, and efiectively, in a few 
 words, to present a distinct and perfect picture in a narrowly circumscribed 
 space." — La Belle Assemhlee. 
 
 "The style is neat and condensed ; the thouglits and conclusions sound and 
 just. The necessary conciseness of the narrative is unaccompanied by any 
 baldness ; on the contrary, it is spirited and engaging."— £a/<. American. 
 
 "To compress the history of a great nation, during a period of thirteen hun- 
 dred years, into two volumes, and to preserve sufficient distinctness as well as 
 interest in the narrative, to enable and induce the reader to possess hiuiself 
 clearly of all the leading incidents, is a task by no means easily executed. It 
 has, nevertheless, been well accomplished in this instance."— JV. Y. American. 
 
 "Written with spirit and taste." — U. S. Gazette. 
 
 "Could we but persuade our young friends to give these volumes a careful 
 perusal, we should feel assured of their grateful acknowledgments of profit and 
 pleasure."— JV*. Y. Mirror. 
 
 " At once concise and entertaining."— Saturday Bulletin. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE NETHERIiANDS, to the Battle of 
 Waterloo. By T. C. Grattan. 
 
 " It is but justice to Mr. Grattan to say that he has executed his laborious 
 task with much industry and proportionate eflfect. Undisfigured by pompous 
 nothingness, and without any of the aficctation of philosophical profundity, his 
 style is simple, light, and flresh- perspicuous, smooth, and harmonious." — La 
 Belle Assemblee. 
 
 " Never did work appear at a more fortunate period. The volume before us 
 is a compressed but clear and impartial narrative." — Lit. Gaz. 
 
 " A long residence in the country, and a ready access to libraries and archives, 
 have furnished Mr Grattan with materials which he has arranged with skill, 
 and out of which he has produced a most interesting volume."— Gent. Mag, 
 
 BIOGRAPHY OF BRITISH STATESMEN; containing the 
 Lives of Sir Thomas More, Cardinal "Wolsey, Archbishop 
 Cranmcr, and Liord Burlclj^h. 
 
 " A very delightful volume, and on a subject likely to increase in interest as it 
 proceeds. * * * We cordially commend the work both for its design and 
 execution." —Lond. Lit. Gazette. 
 
LARDNER'S CABINET CYCLOPAEDIA. 
 
 It is not easy to devise a cure for such a state of things (the de- 
 
 CI ININO taste for science ;) BUT THE MOST OBVIOUS REMEDY IS TO PROVIDE 
 THE EDUCATED CLASSES WITH A SERIES OF WORKS ON POPULAR AND PRACTI- 
 CAL SCIENCE, FREED FROM MATHEMATICAL SYMBOLS AND TECHNICAL TERMS, 
 WRITTEN IN SIMPLE AND PERSPICUOUS LANQUAGE, AND ILLUSTRATED BY FACTS 
 AND EXPERlMENra, WHICH ARE LEVEL TO THE CAPACITY OF ORDINARY MINDS." 
 
 Quarterly Review. 
 
 PREI.IMIN.VRY DISCOURSE ON THE OBJECTS, ADVAN- 
 TAGES, AND PLEASURES OF THE STUDY OP NATU- 
 RAL PHILOSOPHY. By J. T. W, Herscliel, A. M. late Pcl- 
 lo-vv of St* Jolui^s College, Cani1>ridge* 
 
 " Without disparaging any other of the many interesting and instructive vol- 
 umes issued in the form of cabinet and family libraries, it is, perhaps, not too 
 much to place at the head of the list, for extent and variety of condensed infor- 
 mation, Mr. Herchel's discourse of Natural Philosophy in Dr. Lardner's Cyclo- 
 paedia." — Christian Observer. 
 
 " The finest work of philosophical genius which this age has seea."— Mackin- 
 tosh's England. 
 
 " By far the most delightful book to which the existing competition between 
 literary rivals of great talent and enterprise haa given rise." — Monthly Review. 
 
 " Mr. Herschel's delightful volume. * * * We find scattered through the 
 work instances of vivid and happy illustration, where the fancy is usefully called 
 into action, so as sometimes to remind us of the splendid pictures which crowd 
 upon U8 in the style of Bacon.''— Quarterly Review. 
 
 " It is the most exciting volume of the kind we ever met wiih."— Monthly 
 Magazine. 
 
 " One of the most instructive and delightful books we have over perused."— 
 U. S. Journal. 
 
 A TREATISE ON MECHANICS. By Capt. Kater, and tlie 
 Rev. Dionysius Larduer. "Witli numerous engravlugs. 
 
 " A work which contains an uncommon amount of useful information, ex- 
 hibited in a plain and very intelligible ioxm.'"— Olmsted's J^at Philosophy. 
 
 "This volume has been lately published in England, as a part of Dr. Lardner's 
 Cabinet Cycloptedia, and has received the unsolicited approbation of the most 
 eminent men of science, and the most discriminating journals and reviews, in 
 the British metropolis.— It is written in a p<ipular and intelligible style, entirely 
 free from mathematical symbols, and disencumbered as far as possible of tech- 
 nical iihrases."— Boston Traveller. 
 
 " Admirable in development and clear in principles, and especially felicitous in 
 illustration from familiar subjects."— Jtf<mtA/y Mag. 
 
 " Though replete with philosophical information of the highest order in me- 
 chanics, adapted to ordinary capacities in a way to render it at once intelligible 
 and popular."— Z.i«. Gazette. 
 
 " A work of great merit, full of valuable information, not only to the practical 
 mechanic, but to the man of science."— JV. Y. Courier and Enquirer. 
 
 A TREATISE ON HYDROSTATICS AND PNEUMATICS. 
 By tlie Rev. D. liardner* "With numerous engravings. 
 
 " It fully sustains the favorable opinion we have already expressed as to this 
 valuable compendium of modern science." — Lit. Gazette. 
 
 " Dr. Lardner has made a good use of his acquaintance with the fomiliar facts 
 which illustrate the principles of science."— MontlUy Magazine. 
 
 " It is written with a full knowledge of the subject, and in a popular style, 
 abounding in practical illustrations of the abstruse operations of these impor- 
 tant sciences." — U. S. Journal. 
 
CABINET OF AMERICAN HISTORY. 
 
 Volnmes pu'blislied* 
 
 I. II. HISTORY OF THE SPANISH DISCOVERIES prior to the year 1520. 
 
 To "be succeeded by 
 
 ni. IV. V. HISTORY OF ANAHUAC, or MEXICO, from its discovery 
 
 to the present time. In 3 vols. 
 VI. VII. HISTORY OF PERU. In 2 vols. 
 VIII. IX. HISTORY OF BRAZIL. In 2 vols. &c. &c 
 
 Under this comprehensive title, it is proposed to publish a General His- 
 tory of America, divided into parts making together a continuous whole ; 
 yet each, having an integral form, adapted for separate publication. Each 
 portion will be brought down to the period at which it shall be written, 
 and will contain a popular description of the geology, climate and produc- 
 tions, and the civil history of the country to which it relates. 
 
 No work of this general nature has been published in the English lan- 
 guage. The work of Dr. Robertson is rather a philosophical essay on 
 American history, than an historical narrative ; and though originally de- 
 sisted to embrace the whole of the American continent, it remains un- 
 finished. It is written also, with a bias unfavorable to America arid its 
 productions, is incorrect in many important particulars, and is too much 
 abstracted for popular use. 
 
 This void in literature might have been properly filled by the writers of 
 Spain, Portugal, France, or England, but has been supplied for Europe, in 
 a measure, by an Itahan, the Cavalier Campagnoni, of whose meritorious 
 labor much use will be made in the proposed enterprise. 
 
 The volumes herewith presented, may be deemed introductory to the 
 whole work, since they narrate the history of the discovery of the three 
 great portions of America. In the prosecution of the subject, the existing 
 political divisions will be pursued and connected with former ones, by 
 proper explanations ; and where due regard for unity does not forbid, the 
 chronological order will be preserved. Thus, the next succeeding part of 
 the work, now advanced in preparation, will contain the history of Anahuac, 
 or Mexico : including its ancient annals, an account of iis subjugation, and 
 the policy of its conquerors, of its late revolutions, and of its present con- 
 stituent states. In the same manner will be treated Central America, P^ru, 
 ChiU, Boh via, the United Provinces of La Plata, Brazil and Colombia. Due 
 attention will also be given to the independent Indian nations of South 
 America 
 
 The history of the remainder of the country will be embraced by the 
 following divisions : — 1. Russian ; 2. British ; 3. Sj>anish ; 4. French ; 5. 
 Danish ; 6. Dutch America ; and 7, the United States and their dependen- 
 cies. In treating the last division, a separate volume will be appropriated 
 to each State and Territory, the history of which may require it, and " The 
 History oftJie United States" will be confined to the events of the Revolu- 
 tion and the operations of the general government. 
 
 A survey having been thus made of the whole Western Hemisphere, the 
 concluding volume will contain the history of the Indian races, particularly 
 those of the northern part of the continent, with a critical examination of 
 the theories relating to the original peopling of America. 
 
 The general title of the work is sufficiently comprehensive to include a 
 biography of distinguished Americans, and others connected with Ameri- 
 can history; and should the public supprt warrant it, " An American Bi- 
 ography " may also bo published under it, in a cheap and popular form. 
 
CABINET LIBRARY. 
 
 No. 1.— NARRATIVE OF THE LATE WAR IN GER- 
 MANY AND FRANCE. By the Makquess of London- 
 derry. With a Map. 
 
 No. 2.— JOURNAL op a NATURALIST, with plates. 
 
 No. 3.— AUTOBIOGRAPHY of SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 With a portrait. 
 
 No. 4.— MEMOIRS of SIR WALTER RALEGH. By Mrs. 
 A. T. Thomson. 
 
 No. 5.— LIFE OF BELISARIUS. By Lord Mahon. 
 
 No. 6.— MILITARY MEMOIRS of the DUKE of WEL- 
 LINGTON. By Capt. MoYLE Sherer. Witli a portrait. 
 
 No. 7.— LETTERS to a YOUNG NATURALIST on the 
 STUDY of nature and NATURAL THEOLOGY. By 
 J. L. Drummond, M. D. With numerous engravings. 
 
 IN PREPARATION. 
 
 LIFE of PETRARCH. By Thomas Moore. 
 GLEANINGS in NATURAL HISTORY, being a Companion 
 to the Journal of a Naturalist 
 
 "The Cabinet Library bids fair to be a series of great value, and is recom- 
 mended to ptiblic and private libraries, to professional men, and miscellaneons 
 readers generally. It is beautifully printed, and furnished at a price which will 
 place it within the reach of all classes of society." — j9merican Tr&celUr. 
 
 "The scries of instructive, and, in their original form, expensive works, 
 which these enterprising publishers are now issuing under the title of the 
 " Cabinet Library," is a fountain of useful, and almost universal knowledge ; 
 the advantages of which, in forming the opinions, tastes and niannei's of that 
 portion of society, to which this varied information is yet new, cannot be too 
 highly estimated."— JVafiona/ Journal. 
 
 " Messrs. Carey and Lea have commenced a series of publications under the 
 above title, which are to appear monthly, and which seem likely, from the spe- 
 cimen before us, to acquire a high degree of popularity, and to afford a mass of 
 various information and rich entertainment, at once eminently useful and 
 strongly attractive. The mechanical execution is fine, the paper and typography 
 excellent."— JV(wA»»//e Banner. 
 
 MKMOIRS OF the: LIFE OF SIR "W ALTER RALEGH, 
 witK some Account of the Period in ^vliieli h.e lived* By 
 MRS. A. T. THOMSON. Witli a Portrait. 
 
 "Such is the outline of a life, which, in Mrs. Thomson's hands, is a mine of 
 intere.«t; from the first page to the last the attention is roused and sustained, 
 and while we approve the manner, we still more applaud the spirit in which it 
 is executed." — Literary Oazette. 
 
CABINET ZiIBRARir. 
 
 JOURNAL OP A NATURAI.IST. With Plates. 
 
 Plants, trees, and stones we note ; 
 
 Birds, insocts, beasts, and rural things. 
 
 "We again most strongly recommend this little unpretending volume to the 
 attention of every lover of nature, and more particularly of our country read- 
 ers. It will induce them, we are sure, to examine more closely than they have 
 been accustomed to do, into the objects of animated nature, and such examina- 
 tion will prove one of the most innocent, and the most satisfactory sources of 
 gratification and amusement. It is a book that ought to find its way into every 
 rural drawing-room in the kingdom, and one that may safely be placed in every 
 lady's boudoir, be her rank and station in life what they may." — Quarterly Re- 
 view, No. LXXVIII. 
 
 "We think that there are few readers who will not be delighted (we are cer- 
 tain all will be instructed) by the 'Journal of a Naturalist.' "— Monthly Review 
 
 " This is a most delightful book on the most delightful of all studies. We arc 
 acquainted with no previous work which bears any resemblance to this, except 
 ' White's History of Selborne,' the most fascinating piece of rural writing and 
 sound English philosophy that ever issued from the press." — Jlthcnaum. 
 
 "The author of the volume now before us, has produced one of the most 
 charming volumes we remember to have seen for a longtime." — J\rewMonth- 
 ly Magazine, June, 1829. 
 
 " A delightful volume — perhaps the most so — nor less instructive and amusing 
 — given to Natural History since White's Selborne." — Blackwood's Magazine. 
 
 " The Journal of a Naturalist, being the second number of Carey and Lea's 
 beautiful edition of the Cabinet Library, is the best treatise on subjects con- 
 nected with this train of thought, that we have for a long time perused, and we 
 are not at all surprised that it should have received so high and flattering enco- 
 miums from the English press generally." — Boston Traveller. 
 
 "Furnishing an interesting and familiar account of the various objects of 
 animated nature, but calculated to afford bQjh instruction and entertainment." 
 — JVashvillc Banner. 
 
 "One of the most agreeable works of its kind in the language." — Courier de 
 la Louisiane. 
 
 " It abounds with numerous and curious facts, pleasing illustrations of the 
 secret operations and economy of nature, and satisfactory displays of the power, 
 wisdom and goodness, of the great Creator." — Philad. Album. 
 
 THE MARdUESS OP liONDONOERRY'S NARRATIVE OP 
 THE LATE MVXJX IN GERMANY AND PRANCE. With a 
 Map. 
 
 " No history of the events to which it relates can be correct without reference 
 to its statements." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 "■ The events detailed in this volume cannot fail to excite an intense interest." 
 — Dublin Literary Gazette. 
 
 "The only connected and well authenticated account we have of the spirit- 
 stirring scenes which preceded the fall of Napoleon. It introduces us into the 
 cabinets and presence of the allied monarchs. We observe the secret policy of 
 each individual : we see the course pursued by the wily Bernadotte, the tempo- 
 rizing Metternich, and the ambitious Alexander. The work deserves a place in 
 every historical library." — Globe. 
 
 " We hail with pleasure the appearance of the first volume of the Cabinet 
 Library." " The author had singular facilities for obtaining the materials of 
 his work, and he has introduced us to the movements and measures of cabinets 
 which have hitherto been hidden from the world." — .American Traveller. 
 
 "It may be regarded as the most authentic of all tlie publications which pro- 
 fess to detail the events of the important campaigns, terminating with that 
 which secured the capture of the French metropolis." — J^al. Journal. 
 
 " It is in fact the only authentic account of the memorable events to which 
 it refers."— JVaaAriWe Banner. 
 
 " The work deserves a place in every Yibrtary."— Philadelphia Alburn. 
 
SCOTT AND COOPER. 
 
 BY SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS, a Tale of the Lower Empire. 
 By the Author of Waverley. In 2 vols. Nearly ready. 
 
 " The reader will at once perceive that the subject, the characters and the 
 scenes of action, could not have been better selected for the display of the vari- 
 ous and unequalled powers of the author. All that is glorious in arts and splen- 
 did in arms— the glitter of armor, the pomp of war, and the splendor of chivalry 
 —the gorgeous scenery of the Bosphorus — the ruins of Byzantium — the magnifi- 
 cence of the Grecian capital, and the richness and voluptuousness of the impe- 
 rial court, will rise before the reader in a succession of beautiful and dazzling 
 images." — Commercial Mr ertiser. 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. With a 
 
 Portrait. 
 HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. In 2 vols. 
 
 " The History of Scotland, by Sir Walter Scott, we do not hesitate to declare, 
 will be, if possible, more extensively read, than the most popular work of fiction, 
 hv the same prolific author, and for this obvious reason: it combines much of the 
 brilliant coloring of the Ivanhoe pictures of bygone manners, and all tlie grace- 
 ful facility of style and picturesqueness of description of his otiier charming ro- 
 mances, with a minute fidelity to the facts of history, and a searching scrutiny 
 into their authenticity and relative value, which might put to the blush Mr. 
 Hume and other professed historians. Such is the magic charm of Sir Walter 
 Scott's pen, it has only to touch the simplest incident of everyday life, and it starts 
 up invested with all the interest of a scene of romance ; and yet such is his fideli- 
 ty to the te.xt of nature, that the knights, and serfs, and collared fools with whom 
 his inventive genius has peopled so many volumes, are regarded by us as not 
 uiere creations of fancy, but as real flesh and blocxl existences, with" all the vir- 
 tues, feelings and errors of common-place humanity." — Lit. Oazette, 
 
 TALES OF A GRANDFATHER, being a series from French 
 History. By the Author of Waverley. 
 
 BY MR. COOPER. 
 
 THE BRAVO. By the Author of the Spy, Pilot, &c. In 2 vols. 
 
 In the Press. 
 The water- WITCH, or the SKIMMER of the SEAS. 
 In 2 vols. 
 
 " We have no hesitation in classing this among the most powerful of the ro- 
 mances of our countryman."— C7. States Gazette. 
 
 "We could not break from the volumes, and may predict that they will excite 
 the same interest in the minds of almost every reader. The concluding chapters 
 produce intense emotion." — JVational Oazette. 
 
 New Editions of the following Works by the same Author. 
 NOTIONS OF THE AMERICANS, by a Travelling Bachelor, 
 
 2 vols. 12mo. 
 The WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH, 2 vols. 12mo. 
 The RED ROVER, 2 vols. 12mo. 
 The spy, 2 vols. 12mo. 
 The PIONEERS, 2 vols. 12mo. 
 The PILOT, a Tale of the Sea, 2 vols. I2mo. 
 LIONEL LINCOLN, or the LEAGUER of BOSTON, 2 vols. 
 The last of the MOHICANS, 2 vols. 12mo. 
 The PRAIRIE, 2 vols. 12mo. 
 
VOYAGES AND ADVENTURES of the COMPANIONS of 
 COLUMBUS. By Washington Irving, Author of the Life 
 of Columbus, &.C. 1 vol. 8vo. 
 
 " Of the main work we may repeat that it possesses the value of important 
 history and the magnetism of romantic adventure. It sustains in every respect 
 the reputation of Irving." " We may hope that the gifted author will treat in like 
 manner the enterprises and exploits of Pizarro and Cortes ; and thus complete a 
 series of elegant recitals, which will contribute to the especial gratification of 
 Americans, and form an imperishable fund of delightful instruction for all ages 
 and countries."— JVot. Oazette. 
 
 •' As he leads us from one savage tribe to another, as he paints successive 
 scenes of heroism, perseverance and self-denial, as he wanders among the mag- 
 nificent scenes of nature, as he relates with scrupulous fidelity the errors, and 
 the crimes, even of those whose lives are for the most part marked with traits 
 to command admiration, and perhaps esteem— every where we find him the same 
 undeviating, but beautiful moralist, gathering from every incident some lesson 
 to present in striking language to the reason and the heart."— -«wi. QwartcWy 
 Review. 
 
 " This is a delightful volume ; for the preface truly says that the expeditions 
 narrated and springing out of the voyages of Columbus may be compared with 
 attempts of adventurous knights-errant to achieve the enterprise left unfinished 
 by some illustrious predecessors. Washington Irving's name is a pledge how 
 well their stories will be told : and we only regret that we must of necessity de- 
 fer our extracts for a week."— London Lit. Oazette. 
 
 A CHRONICLE of the CONQUEST of GRENADA. By 
 Washington Irving, Esq. In 2 vols. 
 
 •' On the whole, this work will sustain the high fame of Washington Irving. 
 It fills a blank in the historical library which ought not to have remained so 
 long a blank. The language throughout is at once chaste and animated ; and 
 the narrative may be said, like Sixjnser's Fairy Queen, to present one long gal- 
 lery of splendid pictures."— iond. Lit. Oazette. 
 
 "Collecting his materials from various historians, and adopting in some 
 degree the tone and manner of a monkish chronicler, he has embodied them in 
 a narrative which in manner reminds us of the rich and storied pages of Frois- 
 sart. He dwells on the feats of chivalry performed by the Christian Knights, 
 with all the ardor which might be expected from a priest, who mixed, according 
 to the usage of the times, not only in the palaces of courtly nobles, and their gay 
 festivals, as an honored and welcome guest, but who was their companion m 
 the camp, and their spiritual and indeed bodily comforter and assistant in the 
 field of battle.— ./3m. Quarterly Revievo. 
 
 New Editions of the following Works by the same Author. 
 
 The sketch BOOK, 2 vols. 12mo. 
 
 KNICKERBOCKER'S HISTORY of NEW YORK, revised 
 and corrected. 2 vols. 
 
 BRACEBRIDGE HALL, or the HUMORISTS, 2 vols. 12mo. 
 
 TALES OF A TRAVELLER, 2 vols. 12mo. 
 
CLASSICAL LITERATURE. 
 
 INTRODUCTION to the STUDY of the GREEK CLASSIC 
 POETS, for the use of Young Persons at School or College. 
 
 Contents. — General Introduction ; Homeric Questions ; 
 Life of Homer ; Iliad ; Odyssey ; Margites ; Batrachomyo- 
 machia ; Hymns ; Hesiod. By Henry Nelson Coleridge. 
 
 " We have been highly pleased with this little volume. This work supplies a 
 want which we have often painfully felt, and affords a manual which we should 
 gladly see placed in the hands of every embryo undergraduate. We look for- 
 ward to the next portion of this work with very eager and impatient ex- 
 pectation."— ^ritisA Critic. 
 
 " Mr. Coleridge's work not only deserves the praise of clear, eloquent and 
 scholar like exposition of tho preliminary matter, which is necessary in order to 
 understand and enter into the character of the great Poet of antiquity; but it 
 has likewise the more rare merit of being admirably adapted for its acknow- 
 ledged purpose. It is written in that fresh and ardent spirit, which to the con- 
 genial mind of youth, will convey instruction in the most efleclive manner, by 
 awakening the desire of it; and by -enlisting the lively and buoyant feelings in 
 the cause of useful and improving study; while, by its prognant brevity, it is 
 more likely to stimulate than to supersede more profound and extensive research. 
 If then, as it is avowedly intended for the use of the younger readers of Homer, 
 and, as it is im|)ossibIe not to discover, with a more particular view to the great 
 .school to which the author owes his education, we shall be much mistaken if it 
 docs not become as popular as it will be useful in that celebrated establish- 
 ment." — Quarterly Review. 
 
 " We sincerely hope that Mr. Coleridge will favor us with a continuation of 
 this work, which he promises.— Genf. Mag. 
 
 "The author of this elegant volume has collected a vast mass of valuable in- 
 formation. To the higher classes of the public schools, and young men of uni- 
 versities, this volume will be especially valuable; as it will afford an agreeable 
 relief of light reading to more grave studies, at once instructive and entertain- 
 ing." — Wesley an Methodist Magazine. 
 
 ATLAS OF ANCIENT GEOGRAPHY, consisting of 21 Col- 
 ored Maps, with a complete Accentuated Index. By Samuel 
 Butler, D. D., F. R. S. &c. Archdeacon of Derby. 
 
 Bij the same Author. 
 
 GEOGRAPHIA CLASSICA : a Sketch of Ancient Geography, 
 for the Use of Schools. In 8vo. 
 
 Extract of a Letter from Professor Stuart of Andover. 
 
 " I have used Butler's Atlas Classica for 12 or 14 years, and prefer it on the 
 score of convenience and correctness to any atlas within the compass of my 
 knowledire. It is evidently a work of much care and taste, and most happily 
 adapted to classical readers and indeed all others, who consult the histoiy of past 
 ages. I have long cherished a strong desire to see the work brought forward in 
 this country, and I am exceedingly gratified that you have carried through this 
 undertaking. The beautiful manner in which the specimen is executed that you 
 have sent me does great credit to engravers and publishers. It cannot be that 
 our schools and colleges will fail to adopt this work, and bring it into very gen- 
 eral circulation. I know of none which in all res{»ects would supply its place." 
 
 "The abridged but classical and e.xcel lent work of Butler, on Ancient Geogra- 
 pliy, which you are printing as an accompaniment to the maps, I consider one 
 of tho most attractive works of the kind, esporially for young persons studying 
 the classics, that has come under my notice. I wish you the most ample success 
 in these highly useful publications." 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 PRIVATE MEMOIRS of NAPOLEON BONAPARTE, from 
 the French of M. Fauvelet de Bourrienne, Private Secre- 
 tary to the Emperor. In 2 vols. 8vo. 
 
 The peculiar advantages of position in regard to his present subject, 
 solely enjoyed by M. de Bourrienne, his literary accomplishments and 
 moral qualifications, have already obtained for these memoirs the first rank 
 in contemporary and authentic history. In France, where they had been 
 for years expected with anxiety, and where, since the revolution, no work 
 connected with that period or its consequent events has created so great a 
 sensation, the volumes of Bourrienne have, from the first, been accepted as 
 the only trustworthy exhibition of the private life and political principles 
 of Napoleon. 
 
 " We know from the best political authority now living in England, that the 
 writer's accounts are perfectly corroborated by facts." — Lit. Qai. 
 
 ANNALS OF THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGNS. By the 
 Author of Cyril Thornton. In 3 vols. 12rao. with plates. 
 
 The HISTORY OF LOUISIANA, particularly of the Cession 
 of that Colony to the United States of North America ; with 
 an Introductory Essay on the Constitution and Government of 
 the United States, by M. de Marbois, Peer of France, trans- 
 lated from the French by an American Citizen. In 1 vol. 8vo. 
 
 The PERSIAN ADVENTURER. By the Author of the Kuz- 
 ziLBASH. In 2 vols. 12mo. 
 " It is full of glowing descriptions of Eastern life."— Cowrier. 
 
 MORALS OF PLEASURE, Illustrated by Stories designed for 
 
 Young Persons, in 1 vol. 12mo. 
 
 " The style of the stories is no less remarkable for its ease and gracefulness, 
 than for the delicacy of its humor, and its beautiful and at times alffecting sim- 
 plicity. A lady must have written it— for it is from the bosom of woman alone, 
 that such tenderness of feeling and such delicacy of sentiment— such sweet les- 
 sons of morality — such deep and pure streams of virtue and piety, gush forth to 
 cleanse the Juvenile mind from the grosser impurities of our nature, and prepare 
 the young for lives of usefulness here, and happiness hereafter."— JV. Y. Com, 
 Advertiser. 
 
 CLARENCE ; a Tale of our own Times. By the Author of 
 Redwood, Hope Leslie, &c. In 2 vols. 
 
 AMERICAN QUARTERLY REVIEW, published on the first 
 of March, June, September, and December. Price $5 per ann. 
 *^* A few complete Sets of the Work are still for sale. 
 
 CONSIDERATIONS ON THE CURRENCY AND BANK- 
 ING SYSTEM OF THE UNITED STATES. By Aijjert 
 Gallatin. 
 
 SONGS OF THE AFFECTIONS. By FelTcia Hemans. Roy- 
 al 18mo. 
 
mizscz:iii.Ai?i:ous. 
 
 A MEMOIR OP SEBASTIAN CABOT, with a Review of the 
 History- of Maritime Discovery* Illustrated Tby Documeuts 
 from the Rolls, now first published* 
 
 " Put forth in the most unpretending manner, and without a name, this work 
 is of paramount importance to the subjects of which it treats." — Literary Ga- 
 zette. " The author has corrected many grave errors, and in general given us a 
 clearer insight into transactions of considerable national interest." — lb. " VV^ill 
 it not," says the author, with just astonishment, " be deemed almost incredible, 
 that the very instrument in the Records of England, which recites the Great 
 Discovery, and plainly contemplates a scheme of Colonization, should, up to 
 this moment, have been treated by her own writers as that which first gave 
 permission to go forth and explore?" — lb. "We must return to investigate sev- 
 eral collateral matters which we think deserving of more space than we can 
 this week bestow. Meaowliile we recommend tbe work as one of great value 
 and interest." — lb. 
 
 "The general reader, as well as the navigator and the curious, will derive 
 pleasure and information from this well-written production." — Courier. 
 
 "A specimen of honest inquiry. It is quite frightful to think of the numlier 
 of tlie inaccuracies it exposes : we shall cease to have confidence in bt)oks." 
 "The investigation of truth is not the fashion of these times. But every sin- 
 cere inquirer after historical accuracy ought to purchase the book as a curios- 
 ity: more false assertions and inaccurate statenu-nts were never exposed in 
 the same compass. It has given us a lesson we shall never forget, and hope to 
 profit by."— Spectator. 
 
 HISTORY OP THE NORTHMEN, OR NORMANS AND 
 DANES ; from the earliest times to the Conquest of Eng- 
 land toy William of Normandy* By Henry VVhcaton, Mcm- 
 tocr of the Scandinavian and Icelandic Literary Societies 
 of Copenliagen* 
 
 This work embraces the great leading features of Scandinavian history, com- 
 mencing with the heroic age, and advancing from the earliest dawn of civiliza- 
 tion to the intro<luction of Christianity into the North— its long and bloody 
 strife with Paganism— tlie discovery and colonization of Iceland, Greenland, 
 and North America, by the Norwegian navicatora, Inrfore the time of Columbus 
 —the military and maritime expefiitions of tl»c Northmen— tlM'ir early inter- 
 course of commerce and war with Constantinople and the Eastern empire— the 
 establishment of a Norman state in France, under Rollo. and the subjugation 
 of England, first by the Danes, under Canute the Great, and 8ul)«;qiieiitly by 
 the Normans, under Duke William, the founder of the English monarchy. It 
 also contains an account of the mythology and literature of the ancient North 
 -the Icelandic language prevailing all over the Scandinavian countries until 
 the formation of the present living tongues of Sweden and D»!nmark— an 
 analysis of the Eddas, Sagas, and various chronicles and songs relating to the 
 Northern deities and heroes, constituting the original materials from which the 
 work has been principally composed. It is intended to illustrate the history of 
 France and England during the middle ages, and at the same time to serve as 
 an introduction to the modern history of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. 
 
 LETTERS TO A YOUNG NATURALIST, on the Study of 
 Nature, and Natural Theology. By JAMES L. DRUM- 
 MOND, M* D* &.C. With numerous engravings* 
 
 " We know of no work, compressed within the same limits, which seems so 
 happily calculated to generate in a young mind, and to renovate in the old, an 
 ardent love of nature in all her forms."— ^onfA/y Review. 
 
 " We cannot but eulogize, in the warmest manner, the endeavor, and we must 
 say the successful endeavor, of a man of science, like Dr. Drunimond, to bring 
 down so exalted a pursuit to the level of youthful faculties, and to cultivate a 
 taste at once so useful, virtuous, and refined.- JVtio Monthlij Maif. 
 
TRAVELS. 
 
 NOTES ON ITALY, during the years 1829-30. By Rembrandt 
 Peale. In 1 vol. 8vo. 
 
 " This artist will gratify all reasonable expectation ; he is neither ostenta- 
 tious, nor dogmatical, nor too minute; he is not a partisan nor a carper; he ad- 
 mires without servility, he criticises without malevolence; his frankness and 
 good humor give an agreeable color and effect to all his decisions, and the object 
 of them; his book leaves a useful general idea of the names, works, and deserts, 
 of the great masters; it is an instructive and entertaining index." — Jfat. Oaz. 
 
 " We have made a copious extract in preceding columns from this interesting 
 work of our countryman, Rembrandt Peale, recently published. It has received 
 high commendation from respectable sources, which is justified by the portions 
 we have seen extracted." — Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 "Mr. Peale must be allowed the credit of candor and entire freedom from affec- 
 tation in the judgments he has passed. At the same time, we should not omit to 
 notice the variety, extent, and minuteness of his examinations. No church, 
 gallery, or collection, was passed by, and most of the individual pictures are 
 separately and carefully noticed." — iwi. Quarterly Review. 
 
 FRAGMENTS of VOYAGES and TRAVELS, including 
 ANECDOTES of NAVAL LIFE ; intended chiefly for the 
 Use of Young Persons. By Basil Hall, Capt R. N. In 2 
 vols, royal 18mo. 
 
 " His volumes consist of a melange of autobiography, naval anecdotes, and 
 sketches of a somewhat discursive nature, wliich we have felt much pleasure in 
 perusing." 
 
 "The title page to these volumes indicates their being chiefly intended for 
 young persons, but we are much mistaken if the race of gray-beards will be 
 among the least numerous of the readers of ' midshipmen's pranks and the hu- 
 mors of the green room.' " — Lit. Oazette, 
 
 A TOUR IN AMERICA. By Basil Hall, Capt. R. N. In 2 
 vols. 12mo. 
 
 SKETCHES OF CHINA, with Illustrations from Original 
 Drawings. By W. W. Wood. In 1 vol. 12mo. 
 
 " The residence of the author in China, during the years 1826-7-8 and 9, has 
 enabled him to collect much very curious information relative to this singular 
 p(;ople, which he has embodied in his work; and will serve to gratify the curios- 
 ity of many whose time or dispositions do not allow tliem to seek, in the volum- 
 inous writings of the Jesuits and early travellers, the information contained in 
 the present work. The recent discussion relative to the renewal of the East 
 India Company's Charter, has excited much interest; and among ourselves, the 
 desire to be further acquainted with the subjects of 'the Celestial Empire,' has 
 been considerably augmented." 
 
 EXPEDITION to the SOURCES of the MISSISSIPPI, 
 Executed by order of the Government of the United States. 
 By Major S. H. Long. In 2 vols. 8vo. With Plates. 
 
 HISTORICAL, CHRONOLOGICAL, GEOGRAPHICAL, and 
 STATISTICAL ATLAS of NORTH and SOUTH AME- 
 RICA, and the west INDIES, with all their Divisions 
 into States, Kingdoms, &c. on the Plan of Le Sage, and in- 
 tended as a companion to Lavoisne's Atlas. In 1 vol. folio, 
 containing 54 Maps. Third Edition, improved and enlarged. 
 
EDUCATION. 
 
 LESSONS ON THINGS, intended to improve Children in the 
 Practice of Observation, Reflection and Description, on the Sys- 
 tem of Pestalozzi, edited by John Frost, A. M. 
 
 The publishers request the attention of teachers, school com- 
 mittees, and all who are desirous of improving the methods of in- 
 struction, to this work, which is on a plan hitherto unattempted 
 by any school-book in this country, and which has been attended 
 with extraordinary success in England. 
 
 The following remarks on the work are extracted from the 
 " Quarterly Journal of Education." 
 
 " This little volume is a 'correcterl and re-corrected' edition of leswons actual- 
 ly given to children, and, therefore, possesses a value to which no book made in 
 the closet can lay claim, being the result of actual experiment. The work con- 
 sists of a number of lessons, divided into five series; beginning with subjects 
 the most easy and elementary, it gradually increases in difficulty, each. succes- 
 sive step being adapted to the mind of the child as it acquires fresh stores of 
 knowledge. 
 
 " Every part of these lessons is interesting to the child, both on account of the 
 active operation into which his own mind is necessarily called by the wanner in 
 which the lessons are given ; and also by the attractive nature of many of the 
 materials which form the subject of the lessons. In the first and most elementa- 
 ry series, the pupil is simply taught to make a right use of his organs of sense, 
 and to exercise his judgment so far only as relates to the objects about him ; and 
 accordingly the matter brought before him at this stage, is such that its obvious 
 properties can be discovered and described by a child who has acquired a tolera- 
 ble knowledge of his mother tongue." 
 
 OUTLINES OF HISTORY, from the Earliest Records to the 
 Present Time. Prepared for the Use of Schools, with Questions, 
 by John Frost, A. M. 
 
 "The main object of the work i?, by giving a selection of interesting and 
 striking facts from more elaborate histories, projKjrly and carefully arranged, 
 with chronological tables, to render the study of general history less dry and repul- 
 sive than it has been heretofore. This, we tliink is fully accomplished. Very great 
 care appi^ars to have been bestowed on the selections, and in arranging the 
 chronological tables, as well as in the classification of the historical matter into 
 parts and chapters. The work will sufficiently recommend itself to all who ex- 
 amine it." — Sat. Evening Post. 
 
 "To concentrate in one comparatively small volume, a complete epitome of the 
 entire history of the world, ancient and modern, so treated as to present a cor- 
 rect image of it, would seem to be an object to be wished for, rather than ex- 
 pected ; the ' Outlines of History,' however, realize this object." — Asiatic Journal. 
 
 "We consider that Mr. F. has done a service to schools, by the time and labor 
 which he has bestowed upon this work; the marginal dates will be found of 
 great service, but the chapters of questions upon the text, and upon the maps, 
 to illustrate the geography of the history, will especially recommend the work 
 to the attention of teachers." — U. S. Oazette. 
 
 Philadelphia, July 10<A, 1831. 
 " The ' Outlines of History,' I consider an excellent class-book of general his- 
 tory for the use of schools. The questions added by Mr. Frost, are a most valu- 
 able auxiliary for the teacher as well as the pupil. I shall use the ' Outlines' in 
 my school, and cordially recommend it to parents and teachers. 
 
 " S. C. WALKER." 
 
 Philadelphia, Jipril30th, 1831. 
 " Dear Sir,— I have just received a copy of your edition of the ' Outlines of His- 
 tory.' From a cursory perusal, I am disposed to give it a high rank as a school- 
 book. So well satisfied am I with the arrangement and execution of the work, 
 that I intend to put it immediately into the hands of a class in my own school. 
 " Very respectfully, your obe<lient servant, 
 " Mr. John Frost." " LEVI FLETCHER. 
 
TRAVELS. 
 
 NOTES ON ITALY, during the years 1829-30. By Rembrandt 
 Peale. In 1 vol. 8vo. 
 
 " This artist will gratify all reasonable expectation ; he is neither ostenta- 
 tious, nor dogmatical, nor too minute ; he is not a partisan nor a carper; he ad- 
 mires without servility, he criticises without malevolence; his frankness and 
 good huuior give an agreeable color and effect to all his decisions, and the object 
 of them ; his book leaves a useful general idea of the names, works, and deserts, 
 of the great masters; it is an instructive and entertaining index." — JVat. Oaz. 
 
 " We have made a copious extract in preceding columns from this interesting 
 work of our countryman, Rembrandt Peale, recently published. It has received 
 high commendation from respectable sources, which is justified by the portions 
 we have seen extracted." — Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 " Mr. Peale must be allowed the credit of candor and entire freedom from affec- 
 tation in the judgments he has passed. At the same time, we should not omit to 
 notice the variety, extent, and minuteness of his examinations. No church, 
 gallery, or collection, was passed by, and most of the individual pictures are 
 separately and carefully noticed."— ^»i. Quarterly Review. 
 
 FRAGMENTS of VOYAGES and TRAVELS, including 
 ANECDOTES of NAVAL LIFE ; intended chiefly for the 
 Use of Young Persons. By Basil Hall, Capt. R. N. In 2 
 vols, royal 18mo. 
 
 " His volumes consist of a melange of autobiography, naval anecdotes, and 
 sketches of a somewhat discursive nature, which we have felt much pleasure in 
 perusing." 
 
 "The title page to these volumes indicates their being chiefly intended for 
 young persons, but we are much mistaken if the race of gray-beards will be 
 among the least numerous of the readers of ' midshipmen's pranks and the hu- 
 mors of the green room.' " — Lit. Oazette. 
 
 A TOUR in AMERICA. By Basil Hall, Capt. R. N. In 2 
 vols. 12mo. 
 
 SKETCHES OF CHINA, with Illustrations from Original 
 Drawings. By W. W. Wood. In 1 vol. 12mo. 
 
 " The residence of the author in China, during the years 1826-7-8 and 9, has 
 enabled him to collect much very curious information relative to this singular 
 people, which he has embodied in his work; and will serve to gratify the curios- 
 ity of many whose time or dispositions do not allow them to seek, in the volum- 
 inous writings of the Jesuits and early travellers, the information contained in 
 the present work. The recent discussion relative to the renewal of the East 
 India Company's Charter, has excited much interest ; and among ourselves, the 
 desire to be further acquainted with the subjects of 'the Celestial Empire,' has 
 been considerably augmented." 
 
 EXPEDITION to the SOURCES of the MISSISSIPPI, 
 
 Executed by order of the Government of the United States. 
 By Major S. H. Long. In 2 vols. 8vo. With Plates. 
 
 HISTORICAL, CHRONOLOGICAL, GEOGRAPHICAL, and 
 STATISTICAL ATLAS of NORTH and SOUTH AME- 
 RICA, AND THE WEST INDIES, with all their Divisions 
 into States, Kingdoms, &c. on the Plan of Le Sage, and in- 
 tended as a companion to Lavoisne's Atlas. In 1 vol. folio, 
 containing 54 Maps. Third Edition, improved and enlarged. 
 
EDUCATION. 
 
 LESSONS ON THINGS, intended to improve Children in the 
 Practice of Observation, Reflection and Description, on the Sys- 
 tem of PESTAX.OZZI, edited by John Frost, A. M. 
 
 The publishers request the attention of teachers, school com- 
 mittees, and all who are desirous of improving the methods of in- 
 struction, to this work, which is on a plan hitherto unattempted 
 by any school-book in this country, and which has been attended 
 with extraordinary success in England. 
 
 The following remarks on the work are extracted fix)m the 
 " Quarterly Journal of Education." 
 
 " This litt! N a 'corrected and re-correct«d' edition of leamna actual- 
 
 ly given to . ; tberefore, poawMes a value to which no book made in 
 
 the clo»'t ca,. iM^ing the result of actual experiment. The work con- 
 
 sistfl of a numuer oi irmons, divided into five aeries; berinninf with subjecta 
 the most easy and elementary, it frradually increases in difficulty, eachsucees- 
 sive step being adapted to the mind of the child as it acquires fresh stores of 
 knowledge. 
 
 " Every part of these lewons is interesHof to the child, both on account of the 
 active operation into which his own mind is necesMrily called by the manner in 
 whirh the lessons are given ; and also bv the attractive nature of many of the 
 mairriaiM Which form the subject of the lessons. In the first and most elementa- 
 ry ^•■ries, the pupil is rimftf tuufkt to make a right use of his orvaiia of sense, 
 , A . . .T.-rriiiebis Judgmentso ikr oalv as relates to the objects ahtiut him: and 
 tlie matter bntrnght h a to ra Mb at tMa sUfi. is such timt lu obviniis 
 I II be discovered an^ daac ri b ed by a child who has acquired a tnkra 
 :■■ igu of his mother tongue." 
 
 OUTLINES OF HISTORY', from the Earliest Records to the 
 Present Time. Prepared for the Use of Schools, with Questions, 
 by John Frost, A. M. 
 
 " Ti... iM.Tin object of the work it. hv ».vin.T n Bi^ln/•tion of intcrefltinr and 
 '•< flrom more elaborate hi ' md carefully Rrrnnc«Hl. 
 
 ' '^cal tables, to render th*- -(orytoaadryaiut rrptil- 
 
 : liaa been herctofbre. Thia. ^ .mniinhed. Very great 
 
 care appears to have been beatowed ' i arranging the 
 
 chronological table*, as well aa ia tbr r ica| matter into 
 
 parta and chapter*. The work will sut! ... .If to all who ex- 
 
 amine it.'*— Sal. R99wtmg Pmt. 
 
 "To concentrate in OBaeoniparativcly small volume, a complete epitoflnehf the 
 entire history of the world, aaeieot and modaro, so treated as to present m cor- 
 r> ( t linage of it, would seem to be an ol^t to be wished fbr, rather than ex- 
 l>Tt.<|; the 'Outlines of History.' however, realiae tills ol4ec«.'*—dM«tfey»ii ma/. 
 
 " W'e consiiier that Mr. F. has done a service to schools, by the time and labor 
 which lie has bestowed upon this work; the marginal dales will b<> foiinil of 
 Kreat service, but the chapters of question* upon the text, and upon tht; mn|i«i, 
 to illustrate the geography of the history, will especially recommend the work 
 to the attention of teachers." — U. & OstjsMs. 
 
 PUladtlpU; Julv Wih. IPHF. 
 "The 'Outlines of History,* I consider an excellent class-book 'n«. 
 
 tor>- for the use of schools. The questions added by Mr. Frost, ni in- 
 
 able auxiliaryfor the teacher as well as the pupil. I shall ose the l . in 
 
 my school, and cordially recommend it to parenu and teachers. 
 
 " a C. WALKER." 
 
 Pkilari I^QI. 
 
 " Dear Sir,— I have Just received a copy of yonr e<l i ^^ of His- 
 
 tory.' From a cumory perusal, I am disposed to gi\' a school- 
 
 book. Bo well satisfied am I with the arrangement n r)t tlie work, I 
 
 that I intend to put it iipmediately into the hands <'; my own school. 
 
 " Very respectfully, \ i servant. 
 " Mr. Jons Frobt." ' ■ i,kv i FLETCHER. 
 
GEOLOGICAL MANUAL, by H. T. De la Beche, P. R. S., F. 
 G. S., Mem. Geol. Soc. of France. In 8vo. With 104 Wood 
 Cuts. In the Press. 
 
 ELEMENTS of PHYSICS, or NATURAL PHILOSOPHY, 
 GENERAL and MEDICAL, explained independently of 
 TECHNICAL MATHEMATICS, and containing New Dis- 
 quisitions and Practical Suggestions. By Neill Arnott, M. D. 
 Second American from the fourth London edition, with Additions 
 by Isaac Hays, M. D. 
 
 " Dr. Arnott's work has done for Physics as much as Locke's Essay did for the 
 science of mind." — London University Magazine. 
 
 " We may venture to predict that it will not be surpassed."— rimes. 
 
 "Dr. A. has not done less for Physics than Blackstone did for the Law." — 
 Morning Herald. 
 
 " Dr. A. has made Natural Philosophy as attractive as BuflTon made Natural 
 History."— jFrewcA Critic. 
 
 " A work of the highest class among the productions of mind."— Omner. 
 
 " We regard the style and manner as quite admirable." — Morning Chronicle. 
 
 " As interesting as novel-reading."— ./JtAen«i/»n. 
 
 " Never did philosophic hand wield a pen more calculated to win men to be 
 wise and good." — Edinburgh Observer. 
 
 " Of this valuable, or we might say, invaluable work, a second edition has 
 been siwedily demanded by the public voice."— Lit. Oaz. 
 
 " Of the works that have been prepared with the view of making science fa- 
 miliar, the most decidedly successful, perhaps, is that of Dr. Arnott, and we should 
 be much pleased to see an equally useful treatise on each of the departments of 
 science. Some valuable additions have been made to the American edition."— 
 JVatiojial Gazette. 
 
 ARNOTT'S ELEMENTS or PHYSICS. Vol. IL Part I. 
 
 Containing Light and Heat. 
 
 "Dr. Arnott's previous volume has been so well received, that it has almost 
 banished all the flimsy productions called popular, which falsely pretend to strip 
 science of its mysterious and repulsive aspect, and to exhibit a holyday apparel. 
 The success of such a work shows most clearly that it is plain, but sound know- 
 ledge which the public want." — Monthly Review. 
 
 AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY, or NATURAL HISTORY 
 OF BIRDS, INHABITING THE UNITED STATES, by Charles 
 LuciEN Bonaparte ; designed as a continuation of Wilson's 
 Ornithology, Vols. I. II. and IIL 
 %* Gentlemen who possess Wilson, and are desirous of rendering the 
 
 work complete, are informed that the edition of this work is very small, 
 
 and that but a very limited number of copies remain unsold. Vol. IV. in 
 
 the Press. 
 
 A DISCOURSE ON the REVOLUTIONS of the SURFACE 
 or THE GLOBE and the Changes thereby produced in 
 THE ANIMAL KINGDOM. By Baron G. Cuvier. Trans- 
 lated from the French, with Illustrations and a Glossary. In 
 12mo. With Plates. 
 
 • One of the most scientific and important, yet plain and lucid works, which 
 adorn the age. Here is vast aid to the reader interested in the study of na- 
 ture, and the lights which reason and investigation liave thrown upon t)te 
 formation of the universe."- JVeio Monthly Magazine. 
 
CBEIMCISTRY. 
 
 THE! CHEMISTRY OP THE ARTS, on the liasis of Gray's 
 Operative Chemist, toeing an Exliiliitiou of tlie Arts and 
 Manufactures dependent on Clxemical Principles, witli 
 numerous Engravings, l>y ARTHUR li. PORTER, M. D. 
 late Professor of Chemistry, A-c. in the University of Ver- 
 mont* In $vo« "With numerous Plates* 
 
 The popular and valuable English work of Mr. Gray, which forms the 
 groundwork of the present volume, was published in iJondon in 1829, and 
 designed to exhibit a systematic and practical view of the numerous Arts and 
 Manufactures which involve the application of Chemical Science. The au- 
 thor himself, a skilful, manufacturing, as well as an able, scientific chemist, 
 enjoying the multiplied advantages afforded by the metropolis of the greatest 
 manufacturing nation on earth, was eminently qualified for so arduous an 
 undertaking, and the popularity of the work in England, as well as its 
 intrinsic merits, attest the fidelity and success with which it has been ex- 
 ecuted. In the work now offered to the American public, the practical 
 character of the Operative Chemist has been preserved, and much extend- 
 ed by the addition of a great variety of original matter, bv numerous cor- 
 rections of the original text, and the adaptation of the whole to tlie state 
 and wants of the Arts and Manufactures of the United States. Among the 
 most considerable additions will be found full and extended treatises on the 
 Bleaching of Cotton and Linen, on the various branches of Calico Printing, 
 on the Manufacture of the Chloride of Lime, or Bleaching Powder, and 
 numerous Staple Articles used in the Arts of Dying, Calico Printing, and 
 various other processes of Manufacture, such as the Salts of Tin, Lead, 
 Manganese, and Antimony ; the most recent Improvements on the Manu- 
 facture of the Muriatic, Nitric, and Sulphuric Acids, the Chromatcs of 
 Potash, the latest information on the comparative Value of Different Va- 
 rieties of Fuel, on the Construr.tion of Stoves, Fire-PIaces, and Stoving 
 Rooms, on the Ventilation of ApartmonLs, &c. &c. The leading object has 
 been to improve and extend the practical character of the Operative Chem- 
 ist, and to supply, as the publishers flatter themselves, a deficiency which 
 is felt by every artist and manufacturer, whose processes involve tne prin- 
 ciples of chemical science, the want of a Systematic Work which should 
 embody the most recent improvements in the chemical arts and manufac- 
 tures, whether derived from the researches of scientific men, or the ex- 
 periments and observations of the operative raanufiiciurer and artisans 
 themselves. 
 
 CHEMICAIi MANIPUIiATION. Instruction to Students on 
 the Methods of performing Experiments of Demonstra- 
 tion or Research, -tvith accuracy and success* By MICHAEI. 
 FARAOAY, F* R* S* First American, from the second 
 liondon edition, with Additions by J* K. MITCHELL, M* D. 
 
 " After a very careful perusal of this work, we strenuously recommend it, as 
 containing the most complete and excellent instructions for conducting chemical 
 experiments. There are few persons, however great their experience, who may 
 not gain information in many important particulars; and for ourselves, we beg 
 most unequivocally to acknowledge that we have acquired many new and im- 
 portant hints on subjects of even every-day occurrence."— PAi/osopAicoZ Mag. 
 
 " A work hitherto exceedingly wanted in the laboratory, equally useful to the 
 proficient and to the student, and eminently creditable to the industry and skill 
 of the author, and to the school whence it emaneiiea.'' —Journal of Science and 
 
 Arts. 
 
MEBICIIVE AND SURGERY. 
 
 A TREATISE on FEVER. By Southwood Smith, M. D., 
 
 Physician to the London Fever Hospital. 
 
 " No work has been more lauded by the Reviews than the Treatise on Fevers, 
 by Southwood Smith. Dr. Johnson, the editor of the Medico-Chirurgical Re- 
 view, says, ' It is the best we have ever perused on the subject of fever, and in 
 our conscience, we beHeve it the best that ever flowed from the pen of physician 
 in any age or in any country.' ''''—Jim. Med. Journ. 
 
 An essay on REMITTENT and INTERMITTENT DIS- 
 EASES, including generically Marsh Fever and Neuralgia — 
 comprising under the former, various Anomalies, Obscurities, 
 and Consequences, and under a new systematic View of the 
 latter, treating of Tic Douloureux, Sciatica, Headache, Oph- 
 thalmia, Toothache, Palsy, and many other Modes and Conse- 
 quences of this generic Disease ; by John Macculloch, M. D., 
 F. R. S. &c. &c. 
 
 " In rendering Dr. Macculloch's work more accessible to the profession, we are 
 conscious that we are doing the state some service."— Jlferf. Chir. Review. 
 
 " We most strongly recommend Dr. Macculloch's treatise to the attention of 
 our medical brethren, as presenting a most valuable mass of information, on a 
 most important subject."— JV. Jl. Med. and Surff. Journal. 
 
 A PRACTICAL SYNOPSIS OF CUTANEOUS DISEASES, 
 from the most celebrated Authors, and particularly from Docu- 
 ments afforded by the Clinical Lectures of Dr. Biett, Physician 
 to the Hospital of St. Louis, Paris. By A. Carman, M. D. 
 and H. E. Schedel, M. D. 
 
 " We can safely recommend this work to the attention of practitioners as con- 
 taining much practical information, not only on the treatment, but also on the 
 causes of cutaneous afTections, as being in fact the best treatise on diseases of 
 the skin that has ever appeared." — American Journal of the Medical Sciences, JSTo. 5. 
 
 SURGICAL MEMOIRS OF THE RUSSIAN CAMPAIGN. 
 Translated from the French of Baron Larrey. Nearly ready. 
 
 LECTURES ON INFLAMMATION, exhibiting a view of 
 the General Doctrines, Pathological and Practical, of Medical 
 Surgery. By John Thompson, M. D., F. R. S. E. Second 
 American edition. 
 
 THE INSTITUTES AND PRACTICE OF SURGERY; 
 being the Outlines of a Course of Lectures, By W. Gibson, 
 M. D. Professor of Surgery in the University of Pennsylvania. 
 3d edition, revised, corrected, and enlarged. In 2 vols. 8vo. 
 
 PRINCIPLES OF MILITARY SURGERY, comprising Ob- 
 servations on the Arrangements, Police, and Practice of Hos- 
 pitals, and on the History, Treatment, and Anomalies of Va- 
 riola and Syphilis.; illustrated with cases and dissections. By 
 John Hennen, M. D., F. R. S. E. Inspector of Military Hos- 
 
 ?itals — first American from the third London edition, with the 
 iife of the Author, by his son. Dr. John Hennen. 
 
 "The value of Dr. Ilennen's work is too well appreciated to need any praise 
 of ours. We wcte only required then, to bring the third edition before the 
 notice of our readers; and having done this, we shall merely add, that the vol- 
 ume merits a place in every library, and that no military surgeon ought to be 
 without it." — Medical Oazctte. 
 
2iiiza>zczirs. 
 
 AMXIRIC.VN JOVHSAIm OP THE MEDICAJL SCIENCES. 
 PnblUhed i^nartcrly. 
 
 And supported by the most distinguished Physicians in the United States, 
 among which are Profeasors Bigelow, Channing, Chapman, Coxe, De 
 Butta, Devveea, Dickson, Dudley, Francis, Gibson, Hare, Henderson, 
 Homer, Hosack, Jackson, Macneven, Molt, Mussev, Physick, Potter, 
 Sewali, Warren, and Worthington ; Drs. Daniell, DraKe, Emerson, Feam, 
 Geddincs, Griffith, Halo. Hays, Hayward. Ives, Jackson, Moultrie, Ware, 
 and Wright. It is published mmctuaUy on the first of November, Feb- 
 ruary, May, and August. Eadi No. contains about 280 large 8vo. pees, 
 and one of more plaie»— being a greater amount of matter thaa is lur- 
 nished by any other Medical Journal in the United States. Price $6 ix;r 
 annum. 
 
 The follovvino: Extracts show the cslimation in which this 
 Journal is held in Europe : — 
 
 "Several of the American Journals are before us. • ♦ t ♦ Of tbeae the 
 American Journal of tbe Medical Bciencea is by 1^ the Iwtter periodica) ; it is, 
 indeed, the best of tbe trans-atlantic medical publications : and, to make a com- 
 parison nearer home, is in most remects aaperior to Ibe great majority of Eu- 
 ropean works of the same description "^Tke Lanctt, Jan. Ib31. 
 
 " We need scarcely refer our esteemed and hJKbly eminent cotemporary, [ T%e 
 Jtmerican Journal of Uu Medicnl Seiencu:] ttom whom we quoU. to our critical 
 remarks on the opinions of our own countrymen, or to tha prindpies which in- 
 fluence us in the discharce of our editorial duties." " Our copious extracts from 
 his unoqualled publication, unnoticing multitudes of others which come before 
 us. are the beflt proof of the aateem which w« enterUia fbr kit talants and abil- 
 ities "—/»nc/<m Medical and Snrgieai Jpummt, MareA, 1830. 
 
 "Tit- \ ' I of the Medical Sciences is one of the most complete 
 
 anf\ N wrous periodical publications of the United States."— 
 
 Bullet n, alea, TVm. XIV. 
 
 PATHOLOGICAL and PRACTICAL RESEARCHES on 
 DISEASES OF THE BRAIN and SPINAL CORD. By John 
 Abercrombie, M. D. 
 
 " We have here a work of aathority. and one which does credit to the author 
 and his country."— A"<7ra Amer.Med. and Surg. JournaL 
 
 By the tame Author, 
 PATHOLOGICAL and PRACTICAL RESEARCHES on 
 DISEASES OF THE STOMACH, the INTESTINAL 
 CANAU THE LIVER, and other VISCERA of the 
 
 ABDOMEN. 
 
 "We have now closed a very long review of a very valuable work, and nl 
 though \%'c have endeavored to condense into our pa^s a great mass of ini|w>rt- 
 ant matter, we feel that our author has not yet received Justice."— itfsdko-CAtf-- 
 urgical Review. 
 
 A RATIONAL EXPOSITION of the PHYSICAL SIGNS 
 OF DISEASES of the LUNGS and PLEURA ; Illustrating 
 their Pathology and facilitating their Diagnoeis. By Cuarlem 
 J. Williams, M. D. In 8vo. with plates. 
 
 " If we am not i^rcatly mistaken, it will lead to a bettnr undcmtanding, and 
 a more correct estimate of the value of auscultation, than any thing that has 
 yet apppared." — Am. Med. Journal. 
 
 MANUAL of the PHYSIOLOGY of MAN; or a concise 
 Description of the Phenomena of his Organization. By P. 
 HuTiN. Translated from the French, with Notes by J. Togno. 
 In 12ino. 
 
SniEDZCINE. 
 
 The practice of PHYSIC. By W. P. Dewebb, M. D. Ad- 
 junct Professor of Midwifery, in the University of Pennsylva- 
 nia, 2 Vols. 8vo. 
 
 " We have no hesitation in recommending it as decidedly one of the best sys- 
 tems of medicine extant. The tenor of the work in general reflects the highest 
 honor on Dr. Dewees's talents, industry, and capacity for the execution of the 
 arduous task which he had undertaken. It is one of the most able and satisfac- 
 tory works wliich modern times have produced, and will be a standard authori- 
 ty." — London Med, and Surg. Journal, Aug. 1830. 
 
 DEWEES ON THE DISEASES of CHILDREN. 3d ed. In 8vo. 
 The objects of this work are, 1st, to teach those who have the charge of 
 children, either as parent or guardian, the most approved methods of se- 
 curing and improving their physical powers. This is attempted by pointing 
 out the duties which the parent or the guardian owes for this purpose, to 
 this interesting, but helpless class of beings, and the manner by which their 
 duties shall be fulfilled. And 2d, to render available a long experience to 
 these objects of our affection when they become diseased. In attempting 
 this, the author has avoided as much as possible, "technicality;" and has 
 given, if he does not flatter himself too much, to each disease of which 
 he treats, its appropriate and designating characters, with a fidelity that 
 will prevent any two being confounded together, with the best mode ol" 
 treating them, that either his own experience or that of others has sug- 
 gested. 
 
 DEWEES on the DISEASES of FEMALES. 3d edition, with 
 Additions. In 8vo. 
 
 A COMPENDIOUS SYSTEM OF MIDWIFERY; chiefly 
 designed to facilitate the Inquiries of those who may be pur- 
 suing this Branch of Study. In 8vo. with 13 Plates. 5th edition, 
 corrected and enlarged. 
 
 The ELEMENTS OF THERAPEUTICS and MATERIA 
 MEDICA. By N. Chapman, M. D. 2 vols. 8vo. 5th edition, 
 corrected and revised. 
 
 MANUAL OF PATHOLOGY: containing the Symptoms, Di- 
 agnosis, and Morbid Character of Diseases, &.c. By L. Mar- 
 tinet. Translated, with Notes and Additions, by Jones Quain. 
 Second American Edition, 12mo. 
 
 "We strongly recommend M. Martinet's Manual to the profession, and es- 
 pecially to students; if the latter wish to study diseases to advantage, they 
 should always have it at hand, both when at the bedside of the patient, and 
 when making post mortem examinations." — American Journal of the Medical 
 Sciences, JVb. /. 
 
 CLINICAL ILLUSTRATIONS OF FEVER, comprising a 
 Report of the Cases treated at the London Fever Hospital in 
 1828-29, by Alexander Tweedie, M. D., Member of tlie Royal 
 College of Physicians of London, &c. 1 vol. 8vo. 
 
 •' In short, liie present work, concise, unostentatious as it is, would have led 
 us to think that Dr. Tweedie was a man of clear judgment, unfettered by at- 
 tachment to any fashionable hypothesis, that he was nn energetic but judicious 
 practitioner, and that, if he did not dazzle his readers with the brilliancy of the- 
 oretical PiMiculations he would command their assent to the solidity of his didac- 
 tic precepts." — Med. Chir. Journal. 
 
BIEDIOZKE. 
 
 The anatomy, PHYSIOLOGY, and DISEASES of the 
 TEETH. By Thomas Bell, F. R. S., F. L. S. &c. In 1 vol. 
 8vo. With Plates. 
 
 " Mr. Bell has evidently endeavored to construct a work of reference for the 
 practitioner, and a text-book for the student, containing a ' plain and practical 
 digest of the information at present possessed on the subject, and results of the 
 author's own investigations and experience.' " * * * " We must now take leave 
 of Mr. Bell, whose work we have no doubt will become a class-book on the im- 
 portant subject of dental surgery." — Medico- Chirurgical Review. 
 
 " We have no hesitation in pronouncing it to be the best treatise in the Bng- 
 lish language."— JVortA American Medical and Surgical Journal, JVo. 19. 
 
 AxMERICAN DISPENSATORY. Eighth Edition, improved 
 and greatly enlarged. By John Redman Coxb, M. D. Professor 
 of Materia Medica and Pharmacy in the University of Penn- 
 sylvania. In 1 vol. 8vo. 
 %* This new edition has been arranged with special reference to the 
 
 recent Pharmacopceias, published in Philadelphia and New- York. 
 
 ELLIS' MEDICAL FORMULARY. The Medical Formulary, 
 being a collection of prescriptions derived from the writings 
 and practice of many of the most eminent Physicians in Ame- 
 rica and Europe. By Benjamin Ellis, M. D. 3d. edition. 
 With Additions. 
 
 "We would especially recommend it to our brethren in distant parts of the 
 country, whose insulated situations may prevent tl»em ft-oui having access to th« 
 many authorities which have been consulted in arranging the materials for this 
 work."— Phil. Med. and Phys. Journal. 
 
 MANUAL OF MATERIA MEDICA and PHARMACY. By 
 H. M. Edwards, M. D. and P. Vavasseur, M. D. comprising 
 a concise Description of the Articles used in Medicine ; their 
 Physical and Chemical Properties ; the Botanical Characters of 
 the Medicinal Plants ; the Formula; for the Principal Officinal 
 Preparations of the American, Parisian, Dublin, &,c. Pharma- 
 copoeias ; with Observations on the proper Mode of combining 
 and administering Remedies. Translated from the French, 
 with numerous Additions and Corrections, and adapted to the 
 Practice of Medicine and to the Art of Pharmacy in the United 
 States. By Joseph Toono, M. D. Member of the Philadelphia 
 Medical Society, and E. Durand, Member of the Pliiladelphia 
 College of Pliarmacy. 
 
 " It contains all the pharmaceutical information that the physician can desire, 
 and in addition, a larger mass of information, in relation to the properties, &c. 
 of the diffrrent articles and preparations employed in medicine, than any of the 
 dispensatories, and we think will entirely supersede all these publications in the 
 library of the physician." — Am. Joum. of the Medical Sciences. 
 
 MEMOIR ON THE TREATMENT op VENEREAL DISEASES 
 WITHOUT MERCURY, employed at the Military Hospital of 
 the Val-de-Grace. Translated from the French of H. M. J. 
 Desruelles, M. D. &c. To which are added, Observations by 
 G. J. Guthrie, Esq. and various documents, showing the results 
 of this Mode of Treatment, in Great Britain, Franoe, Gor- 
 rftany, and America. 1 vol. 8vo. 
 
PREPARING FOR PUBLIC ATION, 
 
 A 
 
 CYCLOPiEDI/V 
 
 OP 
 
 PHACTICAL MEDICINE; 
 
 COMPRISING 
 
 TREATISES ON THE NATURE AND TREATMENT OF DISEASES, 
 
 MATERIA MEDICA AND THERAPEUTICS, 
 
 MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE, &c 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 JOHN FORBES, M. D. F. R. S. Physician to the Chichester Infirmary, &c. 
 
 ALEXANDER TWEEDIE, M. D. Physician to the London Fever Hos- 
 pital, &c. 
 
 JOHN CONOLLY, M. D. Professor of Medicine in the London Univer- 
 sity, &c. 
 
 WITH THE ASSISTANCE OF THE. FOLLOWING PHYSICIANS ; 
 
 JAMES APJOHN, M. D. M. R. I. A. Professor of 
 Chemistry to the Royal College of Surgeons in 
 Ireland. 
 
 JAMES L. BARDSLEY, M. D. Physician to the 
 Manchester Royal Infirmary Dispensary, &c. 
 
 EDWARD BARLOW, M. D. Physician to the 
 Bath Unit«d Hospital and lutirmary. 
 
 R. H. BRABANT, M. D. Devizes. 
 
 JOSEPH BROWN, M. D. Physician to the Sunder- 
 land and Bishopweannouth Infirmary. 
 
 THOMAS H. BURDER, M. D. Member of the 
 Roval College of Physicians, I/)ndon. 
 
 JOHN BURNE, M. 1). Physician to the Carey- 
 S'reet Dispensary. 
 
 H. W. CARTER, M. D. P. R. S. E. Physician to 
 the Kent and Canterbury Hospital. 
 
 JOHN CHEYNE, M. D. F. R. S. E. M. K. I. A. 
 Physician-Genera) to the Forces in Ireland, &c.&c. 
 
 JAMES CLARK, M. D. Physician to St. George's 
 Infirmary, Ac. &c. 
 
 JOHN CLENUINNING, M. U. Fellow of the 
 Royal College of Physicians, London. 
 
 JOHN CRAMPTON, M. D. M. R. I. A. King's Pro- 
 fessor nf Materia Medica, Pliysician to Steevens's 
 Hospital, &c. &c. Dublin. 
 
 ANDREW CRAWFORD, M. D. Physician to the 
 Hampshire County Hospital, Winchester. 
 
 WH.LIAM CUMIN. M. D. Glasgow. 
 
 JAMES CUSACK, M. B. Steevens' Hospital, Dub- 
 lin. 
 
 JOHN DARWALL, M. D. Physician to the Gene- 
 ral Dispensary, Birmingham. 
 
 D. 1). DAVIS, M. D. M. R. S. L. Professor of Mid- 
 wifery in the London University. 
 
 JOHN ELLIOTSON, M. D. F. R.S. ' Physician to 
 St. Thomas's Hospital. 
 
 R. J. GRAVES. M. D. M. R. I. A. King's Professor 
 of the Institutes of Medicine, Physician to the 
 Meath Hospital and County of Dublin Infirmary. 
 
 GEORGE GREGORY, M. D. Physician to the 
 Small-Pox Hospital. 
 
 MARSHALL HALI^ M. D. F. R. S. E. Member of 
 the Royal College of Physicians, London, he, Ac. 
 
 THOMAS HANCOCK, M. D. Liverpool, Member 
 of the Royal College of Physicians, London. ' 
 
 To adapt the above work to the wants of this country, tlie publishers 
 have engaged the assistance of many of our most eminent physicians, and 
 they pledge themselves that no exertion shall be siwired to render it wor- 
 thy of patronage. It will be completed in five volumes, octavo, of about 
 600 pjiges each. 
 
 CHARLES HASTINGS, M. D. Physician to the 
 Worcester General Infirmary. 
 
 BISSET HAWKINS, M. D. Fellow of the Royal 
 College of Physicians, Professor of Materia Medi- 
 ca and Therapeutics in King's College, I»ndon. 
 
 J. HOPE^ M. D. Member of the Royal College of 
 Physicians, London. 
 
 ARTHUR JACOB, M. D. M. R. I. A. Professor of 
 Anatomy to the Royal College of Surgeons in 
 Ireland. 
 
 ROBERT LEE, M. D. F. R. S. Physician to the 
 British Lying-in Hospital. 
 
 CHARLES LOCOCK, M. D. Physician to the 
 Westminster General Lying-in Hospital, &c. &c. 
 
 H. MARSH, M. D. M. R. I. A. Professor of the 
 Principles and Practice of Medicine to the Royal 
 College of Surgeons in Ireland, &c. Dublin. 
 
 JONES QUAIN, M. B. Lecturer on Anatomy and 
 Physiology in the Medical School, Aldersgate- 
 Street. 
 
 J. C. PRICHARD, M. D. F. R. S. Physician to the 
 Infirmary and to St. Fetor's Hospital, Bristol. 
 
 ARCHIBALD ROBERTSON, M. D. Physician to 
 the Northampton General Infirmary. 
 
 P. M. ROGET, M. D. Sec. R. S. Consulting Physi- 
 cian to the Queen Charlotte's Lying-in Hosp'ital 
 and so the Northern Dispensary, &c. &c. 
 
 JOHN SCOTT, M. D. Edinburgh. 
 
 WIL1.IAM STOKES, M. D. Physician to the Meath 
 Hospital. 
 
 WILLIAM STROUD, M.D. Physician to the Nor- 
 thern Dispensary. 
 
 A. T. THOMSON, M. D. F. L. S. Professor of Ma- 
 teria Medica in the London University. 
 
 THOMAS THOMSON, M. D. F. R. S. L. & E. Re- 
 gius Professor of Chemistry in the University of 
 Glasgow, &c. &c. 
 , T. J. TODD, M. D. Physician to the Dispensar)-, 
 I Brif;btoD. 
 
 , RICHARD TOWNSEND, A. B. M. D. M. R. I. A. 
 I Fellow of the King and Queen's College of Phy- 
 sicians, Dublin. 
 
 CHARLES J. B. WILLIAMS, M. D. Londoa. 
 
 &c. &C. &C. 
 
NEIV JULIIDICILL AND OTHER VTOKBS, 
 
 JUST PUBLISHED BY 
 
 E. L. CAREY «fe A. HART, 
 
 pivilatreliJliCa, 
 
 AND FOR SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS IN THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 TATE ON HYSTERIA. 
 
 A TREATISE on HYSTERIA. By George Tate, M. D. In 
 
 one vol. 8vo. 
 
 " As puhlic journalists, we take this occasion to return him our hearty thanks 
 for the pains he has taken to shed a new lighten an obscure and much neglected 
 topic."— JVoWA jimer. Med. and Surg. Journ. JVo. XIX. 
 
 ♦' We are glad to see an American reprint of this work. It is purely practical, 
 and will prove a valuable source of reference in the treatment of a Protean dis- 
 ease, that not unfrequently baffles even the most skilful. We have read the 
 treatise with much satisfaction, and recommend it to the Profession."— JV. Y. 
 Med. Journ. JVo. III. 
 
 HALIi ON TIIE liOSS OF BLOOD. 
 
 RESEARCHES, principally relative to the MORBID and 
 CURATIVE EFFECTS of LOSS of BLOOD. By Mar- 
 shall Hall, M. D. F. R. S. E. &c. &c. In one vol. 8vo. 
 
 " It will be seen that we have been much pleased with Dr. Hall's work gene- 
 rally ; we tliink it is calculated to do much good in placing the subject of the due 
 institution of blood-letting on a practical basis. Dr. Hall has subjoined a plan 
 of a Register of Cases of Blood-letting, which would be a most useful record, if 
 properly kept ; and we cannot recommend such a detail of facts, to practitioners, 
 in too high terms." — .American Journal of Medical Sciences, JVV». XI. 
 
 " It is not for us to say how large may have been the numl)er of sufferers, but we 
 know, some have perished from direct exhaustion complicated with reaction, 
 who might have been saved, if the principles and practices of our author had been 
 known and understood."— JV. j?. Med. and Surg. Journal, JVo. XX. for Oct. 1830. 
 
 TEAIiB ON NEURALGIC DISEASES. 
 
 A TREATISE on NEURALGIC DISEASES dependent upon 
 Irritation of the Spinal Marrow and Ganglia of the Sympathetic 
 Nerve. By Thomas Pridgin Teale, Member of the Royal 
 College of Surgeons in London, of the Royal Medical Society 
 of Edinburgh, Senior Surgeon to the Leeds Public Dispensary. 
 In one vol. 8vo. 
 
 " It is a source of genuine gratification to meet with a work of this character, 
 when it is so often our lot to be obliged to labor hard to winnow a few grains of 
 information from the great mass of dullness, ignorance, and misstatement with 
 which we are beset, and cannot too highly recommend it to the attention of the 
 profession." — American Journal of the Medical Sciences, JNTo. X. 
 
 THE STTRGEON-DENTIST>S MANUAI.. 
 
 The SURGEON-DENTIST'S ANATOMICAL and PHYSIO- 
 LOGICAL MANUAL. By G. Waite, Member of the Royal 
 College of Surgeons in London, &-c. &c. In one vol. 18mo. 
 
 " The work cannot fail, we think, to answer well the purpose for which it was 
 designed, of a manual for the practical dentist; and in the notes will be found 
 many useful hints respecting the diseases of these structures."— Boaion Med. and 
 Surg. Journ. 1830. 
 
SELECT MEDICO-CHIRURGICAL TRANSACTIONS ; a 
 Collection of the most Valuable Memoirs, read to the Medico- 
 Chirurgical Societies of London and Edinburgh ; the Associa- 
 tion of Fellows and Licentiates of the King and Queen's Col- 
 lege of Physicians in Ireland ; the Royal Academy of Medi- 
 cine of Paris ; the Royal Societies of London and Edinburgh ; 
 the Royal Academy of Turin ; the Medical and the Anatomical 
 Societies of Paris, &,c. &,c. &lc. Edited by Isaac Hays, M. D. 
 In one vol. 8vo. 
 
 The PAINTER'S and COLORMAN'S COMPLETE GUIDE; 
 being a Practical Treatise on the Preparation of Colors, and 
 their application to the different kinds of Painting ; in which 
 is particularly described the WJiole Art of House Painting. 
 By P. F. TiNGRY, Professor of Chemistry, Natural History, and 
 Mineralogy, in the Academy of Geneva. First American from 
 the third London Edition, Corrected and considerably Improved 
 by a Practical Chemist In one vol. 12mo. 
 
 The GROOM'S ORACLE, and POCKET STABLE DIREC- 
 TORY : in which the Management of Horses generally, as to 
 Health, Dieting, and Exercise, is considered, in a Series of 
 Familiar Dialogues between two Grooms engaged in training 
 Horses to their work, as well for the Road as the Chase and 
 Turf By John Hinds, V, S., Author of the "Veterinary Sur- 
 geon." Embellished with an elegant Frontispiece, by S. Alken. 
 First American from the second London Edition. With con- 
 siderable Additions, and an Appendix, including the Receipt 
 Book of John Hinds, V. S. In one vol. 12mo. 
 
 "The 'Groom's Oracle,' by J. Hinds, is among the most valuable of our recent 
 pubfications ; H ought to be in the possession of every gentleman, who either 
 has in possession, or has a chance of possessing, the noble animal to whose 
 proper treatment the author has directed his enlightened researches." — Taunton 
 Courier, 1830. 
 
 The FAMILY DYER and SCOURER; being a Complete 
 Treatise on the Arts of Dyeing and Cleaning every Article of 
 Dress, whether made of Wool, Cotton, Silk, Flax, or Hair ; 
 also Bed and Window Furniture, Carpets, Hearth-rugs, Coun- 
 terpanes, Bonnets, Feathers, &c. By William Tucker, Dyer 
 and Scourer in the Metropolis. Second American, from the 
 fourth London edition, considerably Improved. In one vol. 12mo. 
 
 PICTURE OP PHILADELPHIA in 1830-1 ; or a Brief Account 
 of the various Institutions and Public Objects in this Metropo- 
 lis, forming a Guide for Strangers : accompanied by a New 
 Plan of the City. In a neat Pocket Volume. 
 
 The horse im all ms VARIETIES and USES; his Breed- 
 ing, Rearing, and Management, whetlier in Labor or Rest; 
 with Rules J occasionally interspersed, for his JPrescrvation 
 from Disease. By John Lawrence, Author of " The History 
 of the Horse," &c. In one vol. 12mo. 
 
 " IndejHjndontly of the practical value of the book, and it is really and exten- 
 sively valuahle, it is one of the most amusing the reader will meet with in a 
 thousand, convfili'te and unique, embracing every possible subject that can be 
 connected with tl»e Itorsa." — Munt/Uy Magazine. 
 
THE 
 
 CABINET OF BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 CONDUCTED BY THE 
 
 REV. DIONYSIUS LARDNER, LL.D. F.R.S.L.&E. 
 
 M.R.I.A. F.R.A.S. F.L.S. F.Z.S. Hon. F.C.P. S. fltc. &c. 
 
 ASSISTED BT 
 
 EMINENT UTERARY AND SCIENTIPIC MEN, 
 
 EMINENT BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 I 
 
 CAREY AND LEA— CHESTNUT STREET. 
 1832. 
 
LIVES 
 
 or 
 
 EMINENT 
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN 
 
 VOL. T. 
 
 CAREY AND LEA— CHESTNUT STREET. 
 1832. 
 
"9^ 
 
 h 
 
 
 1. 
 
 4 
 
 \ 
 
 Cf 
 
 Y JiUO 
 
ADVERTISEMBNi;,;,„^.i,„,, 
 
 The present voliime commences a Biographical 
 series, whic'h will include the lives of the most 
 considerable persons who have appeared in the 
 political history of these countries, from the reign of 
 Henry the Eighth inclusive, to the present time. The 
 chronological order will be generally observed, and 
 the Memoirs will vary in length, according to the 
 varying interest and importance of the subjects, 
 and the extent of the materials which may be found 
 accessible. 
 
 The literary contributors being persons who cannot 
 be dictated to, nor required to modify the expression 
 of their opinions, so as to adapt them to the views of 
 others, the Editor will not hold himself responsible for 
 the various political and literary opinions which may 
 be found in this series. Still less will the author of 
 any one life be answerable for the doctrines or opin- 
 ions advanced by the author of another. 
 
 Under such circumstances, the reader will not be 
 surprised if contemporary lives occasionally present 
 conflicting opinions. The Editor, however, feels 
 
VI ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 confident that these different views will be such only 
 as men of equally liberal principles may honestly and 
 consistently entertain. 
 
 As the Life of sir Thomas More contains obser- 
 vations which have personal reference to its author, it 
 may be right to state here that it is the production of 
 sir James Mackintosh. 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 SIR THOMAS M0REr,,ki.J.:7!ffff')i'}?]:!T}Jy..,,. 1 
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY 91 
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER 152 
 
 WILLIAM CECIL, LORD BURLEIGH 197 
 

LIVES 
 
 EMINENT BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 
 1480—1535. 
 
 Aristotle and Bacon, the greatest philosophers of the 
 ancient and modern world, agree in representing poetry 
 as being of a more excellent nature than history. Agree- 
 ably to the predominance of mere understanding in Aris- 
 totle's mind, he alleges as his cause of preference, that 
 poetry regards general truth, or conformity to universal 
 nature ; while history is conversant only with a confined 
 and accidental truth, dependent on time, place, and cir- 
 cumstance. The ground assigned by Bacon is such as 
 naturally issued from that fusion of imagination with rea- 
 son, which constitutes his philosophical genius. Poetry is 
 ranked more highly by him, because the poet presents us 
 with a pure excellence and an unmingled grandeur, not to 
 be found in the coarse realities of life or of history ; but 
 which the mind of man, although not destined to reach, is 
 framed to contemplate with delight. 
 
 The general difference between biography and history 
 is obvious. There have been many men in every age 
 whose lives are full of interest and instruction, but who, 
 having never taken a part in public affairs, are altogether 
 excluded from the province of the historian. There 
 have been also, probably, equal numbers who have influ- 
 enced the fortune of nations in peace or in war, of the 
 peculiarities of whose character we have no information ; 
 and who, for the purposes of the biographer, may be said 
 to have no private life. 
 
 VOL. I. 1 
 
"Z BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 These are extreme cases. But there are other men, 
 whose manners and acts are equally well known, whose 
 individual lives are deeply interesting, whose character- 
 istic qualities are peculiarly striking, who have taken an 
 important share in events connected with the most ex- 
 traordinary revolutions of human affairs, and whose biog- 
 raphy becomes more difficult from that combination and 
 intermixture of private with public occurrences, which 
 render it instructive and interesting. The variety and 
 splendor of the lives of such men render it often difficult 
 to distinguish the portion of them which ought to be 
 admitted into history, from that which should be reserved 
 for biography. Generally speaking, these two parts are 
 BO distinct and unlike, that they cannot be confounded 
 without much injury to both ; — either when the biographer 
 hides the portrait of the individual by a crowded and con- 
 fined picture of events, or when the historian allows un- 
 connected narratives of the lives of men to break the 
 thread of history. The historian contemplates only the 
 surface of human nature, adorned and disguised when the 
 actors perform brilliant parts before a great audience, in 
 the midst of so many dazzling circumstances, that it is 
 hard to estimate their intrinsic worth ; and impossible, in a 
 historical relation, to exhibit the secret springs of their 
 conduct. The biographer endeavors to follow the hero 
 and the statesman, from the field, the council, or the 
 senate, to his private dwelling, where, in the midst of do- 
 mestic ease, or of social pleasure, he throws aside the robe 
 and the mask, becomes again a man instead of an actor, 
 and, in spite of himself, often betrays those frailties and 
 singularities which are visible in the countenance and 
 voice, the gesture and manner, of every man, when he is 
 not acting a part. It is particularly difficult to observe 
 the distinction in the case of sir Thomas More, because 
 he was so perfectly natural a man, that he carried his 
 amiable peculiarities into the gravest deliberations of 
 state and the most solemn acts of law. Perhaps nothing 
 more can be universally laid down, than that the biogra- 
 pher never ought to introduce public events, except as 
 far as they are absolutely necessary to the illustration of 
 character, and that the historian should rarely digress into 
 biographical particulars, except as far as they contribute 
 to me clearness of his narrative of political occurrences. 
 
 Sir Thomas More was bom in Milk Street, in the 
 city of London, in the year 1480, three years before the 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 3 
 
 death of Edward IV. His family was respectable,— no 
 mean advantage at that time. His father, sir John More, 
 who was born about 1440, was entitled by his descent to 
 use an armorial bearing, — a privilege guarded strictly and 
 jealously as the badge of those who then began to be 
 called gentry, who, Siough separated from*tne lords of 
 parliament by political rights, yet formed with them in the 
 order of society one body, corresponding to those called 
 noble in the other countries of Europe. Though the 
 political power of the barons was on the wane, the social 
 position of the united body of nobility and gentry retained 
 its dignity.* Sir John More was one of the justices of the 
 court of King's Bench to the end of his long life ; and, 
 according to his son's account, well performed the peace- 
 able duties of civil life, being gentle in his deportment, 
 blameless, meek and merciful, an equitable judge, and an 
 upright man.f 
 
 Sir Thomas More received the first rudiments of his 
 education at St. Anthony's school, in Threadneedle Street, 
 under Nicholas Hart ; for the daybreak of letters was now 
 so bright, that the reputation of schools was carefully 
 noted, and schoolmasters began to be held in some part 
 of the estimation which they merit. Here, however, his 
 studies were confined to Latin ; the cultivation of Greek, 
 which contains the sources and models of Roman litera- 
 ture, being yet far from having sunk to the level of the 
 best among the schools. It was the custom of that age 
 that young gentlemen should pass part of their boyhood 
 in the house and service of their superiors, where they 
 might profit by listening to the conversation of men of 
 experience, and gradually acquire the manners of the 
 world. It was not deemed derogatory from youths of 
 rank; it was rather thought a beneficial expedient for 
 inuring them to stern discipline and implicit obedience, 
 that they should be trained, during this noviciate, in hum- 
 ble and even menial offices. A young gentlemen thought 
 himself no more lowered by serving as a page in the 
 family of a great peer or prelate, than a Courtenay or a 
 
 *"InsirT. More's epitaph, he describes himself as 'born of no noble 
 family, but of an honest stock,' (or, in the words of the original, familia. non 
 celebri, sed honest^ natus,) a true translation, as we here take nobility and 
 Tioble ; for none under a baron, except he be of the privy council, doth chal- 
 lenge it ; and in this sense he meant it ; but as the Latin word nobilis is 
 taken in other countries for gentrie, it was otherwise. Sir John More bare 
 arms from his birth ; and though we cannot certainly tell who were his an- 
 cestors, they must needs be gentlemen."— L^fe of T. More, by T. More, his 
 great grandson, pp. 3, 4. 
 
 f "Homo civilis, innocens, mitis, integer."— Sir Thomas More*s epitaph. 
 
4 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Howard considered it as a degradation to be the huntsman 
 or the cupbearer of a Tudor. 
 
 More was fortunate in the character of his master. 
 When his school studies were thought to be finished, 
 about his fifl^enth year, he was placed in the house of 
 cardinal Morton, archbishop of Canterbury. This prelate, 
 who was born in 1410, was originally an eminent civilian, 
 canonist, and a practiser of note in the ecclesiastical 
 courts. He was a Lancastrian, and the fidelity with ^vhich 
 he adhered to Henry VI., till that unfortunate prince's 
 death, recommended him to the confidence and patronage 
 of Edward IV. He negotiated the marriage with the 
 princess Elizabeth, which reconciled (with whatever con- 
 fusion of titles) the pretensions of York and Lancaster, 
 and raised Henry Tudor to the throne. By these services, 
 and by his long experience in affairs, he continued to be 
 prime minister till his death, which happened in 1500, at the 
 advanced age of ninety.* Even at the time of More's 
 entry into his household, the old cardinal, though then 
 fourscore and five years, was pleased with the extraordi- 
 nary promise of the sharp and lively boy ; as aged persons 
 sometimes, as it were, catch a glimpse of the pleasure of 
 youth, by entering for a moment into its feelings. More 
 broke into the rude dramas performed at the cardinal's 
 Christmas festivities, to which he was too young to be in- 
 vited, and often invented at the moment speeches for him- 
 self, " which made the lookers-on more sport than all the 
 players beside." The cardinal, much delighting in his 
 wit and towardness, would often say of him unto the nobles 
 that divers times dined with him, — " This child here wait- 
 ing at the table, whosoever shall live to see it, will prove 
 a marvellous man."| More, in his historical work, com- 
 memorates this early friend, not without a sidelong glance 
 at the acts of a courtier. " He was a man of great natural 
 wit, very well learned, honorable in behavior, lacking in 
 no wise to win favor."t In " Utopia " he praises the car- 
 dinal more lavishly, and with no restraint from the severe 
 justice of history. In Morton's house he was probably 
 first known to Colet, dean of St. Paul's, the founder of 
 St. Paul's school, and one of the most eminent restorers of 
 ancient literature in England ; who was wont to say, that 
 
 ♦ Dod'i Charch History, i. 141. The Roman Catholics, now restored to 
 their just rank in society, have no loneer an excuse for not continuing thi« 
 useful work.— Oodtoin's Catalogue of Bishops, 161. 277. edit. 1615. 
 
 i Singer's Roper, 4. 
 More, Hist. Rich. III. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 5 
 
 " there was but one wit in England, and that was youn;r 
 Thomas More."* 
 
 More went to Oxford in 1497, where he appears to have 
 had apartments in St. Mary's hall, but to have carried on 
 his studies at Canterbury college,f where Wolsey after- 
 wards reared the magnificent edifice of Christchurch. At 
 that university he founded a sort of civil war, waged 
 between the partisans of Greek literature, who were then 
 innovators in education, suspected of heresy, if not of 
 infidelity, on the one hand ; and on tlie other side, the larger 
 body, comprehending the aged, the powerful, and the cel- 
 ebrated, who were content to be no wiser than their fore- 
 fathers. The younger followers of the latter faction 
 affected the ridiculous denomination of Trojans, and 
 assumed the names of Priam, Hector, Paris, and iEneaa, 
 to denote their hostility to the Greeks. The puerile ped- 
 antry of these coxcombs had the good effect of awaJcening 
 the zeal of More for his Grecian masters, and of inducing 
 him to withstand the barbarism which would exclude the 
 noblest productions of the human mind from the education 
 of English youth. He expostulated with the university, in 
 a letter addressed to the whole body, reproaching them 
 with the better example of Cambridge, where the gates 
 were thrown open to the higher classics of Greece, as 
 freely as to their Roman imitators.| The established 
 clergy even then, though Luther had not yet alarmed 
 them, strangers as they were to the new learning, affected 
 to contemn that of which they were ignorant, and could 
 not endure the prospect of a rising generation more learned 
 than themselves. Their whole education was Latin, and 
 their instruction was limited to Roman and canon law, to 
 theology, and school philosophy. They dreaded the down- 
 fall of the authority of the vulgate from the study of Greek 
 and Hebrew; But the course of things was irresistible. 
 The scholastic system was now on the verge of general 
 disregard, and the perusal of the greatest Roman writers 
 turned all eyes towards the Grecian masters. What man 
 of high capacity, and of ambition becoming his faculties, 
 could read Cicero without a desire to comprehend Demos- 
 thenes and Plato? What youth desirous of excellence 
 but would rise from tlie study of the Georgics and the 
 iEneid, with a wish to be acquainted with Hesiod and 
 Apollonius, with Pindar, and above all with Homer? 
 
 * More'8 life of More, p. 25. f Wood's Ath. Oxon. Hearne's Roper. 
 
 t See this first Letter in the Appendix to the second volume of Jortin'i 
 Life of Erasmus. 
 
 1* 
 
6 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 These studies were then pursued, not with the dull languor 
 and cold formality with which the indolent, incapable, in- 
 curious majority of boys obey the prescribed rules of an 
 old establishment, but with the enthusiastic admiration 
 with which the superior few feel an earnest of their own 
 higher powers, in the delight which arises in their minds 
 at the contemplation of new beauty, and of excellence un- 
 imagined before. 
 
 More found several of the restorers of Grecian literature 
 at Oxford, who had been the scholars of the exiled Greeks 
 in Italy ; Grocyn, the first professor of Greek in the uni- 
 versity ; Linacre, the accomplished founder of the college 
 of physicians ; and William Latimer, of whom we know 
 little more than what we collect from the general testimony 
 borne by his most eminent contemporaries to his learning 
 and virtue. Grocyn, the first of the English restorers, 
 was a late learner, being in the forty-eighth year of his 
 age when he went, in 1488, to Italy, where the fountains 
 of ancient learning were once more opened. After having 
 studied under Politian, and learnt Greek from Chalcondy- 
 las, one of the lettered emigrants who educated the teach- 
 ers of the western nations, he returned to Oxford, where 
 he taught that language to More, to Linacre, and to Eras- 
 mus. Linacre followed the example of Grocyn in visiting 
 Italy, and profiting by the instructions of Chalcondylas, 
 Colet spent four years in the same country, and in the like 
 studies. William Latimer repaired at a mature age to 
 Padua, in quest of that knowledge which was not to be 
 acquired at home. He was afterwards chosen to be tutor 
 to Reginald Pole, the king's cousin; and Erasmus, by 
 attributing to him "maidenly modesty," leaves in one 
 word an agreeable impression of the character of a man 
 chosen for his scholarship to be Linacre's colleague in a 
 projected translation of Aristotle, and solicited by the 
 latter for aid in his edition of the New Testament.* 
 
 More, at that university, became known to a man far 
 more extraordinary than any of these scholars. Erasmus 
 was invited to England by lord Mountjoy, who had been 
 his pupil at Paris, and continued to be his friend during 
 life. He resided at Oxford during a great part of 1497 ; 
 and having returned to Paris in 1498, spent the former por- 
 tion of the same year at the university of Oxford, where 
 he again had an opportunity of pouring his zeal for Greek 
 
 ♦ For Latimer, Dod, i. 219. For Grocyn, lb. 227. Colct and Linacro, all 
 biographical compilutious. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 7 
 
 Study into the miiid of More. Their friendship, though 
 formed at an age of considerable disparity, — Erasmus 
 being then thirty, and More only seventeen, — ^lasted 
 throughout the whole of their lives. Erasmus had ac- 
 quired only the rudiments of Greek at the age most suited 
 to the acquisition of languages, and was now completing 
 his knowledge on that subject at a period of mature man- 
 hood, which he jestingly compares with the age at which 
 the elder Cato commenced his Grecian studies.* Though 
 Erasmus himself seems to have been much excited to- 
 wards Greek learning by the example of the English 
 scholars, yet the cultivation of classical literature was then 
 so small a part of the employment or amusement of life, 
 that William Latimer, one of the most eminent of these 
 scholars, to whom Erasmus applied for aid in his edition 
 of the Greek Testament, declared that he had not read a 
 page of Greek or Latin for nine years,t that he had almost 
 forgotten his ancient literature, and that Greek hooka 
 were scarcely procurable in England. Sir John More, 
 inflexibly adhering to tlie old education, and dreading that 
 the allurements of literature might seduce his son from 
 law, discouraged the pursuit of Greek, and at the same 
 time reduced the allowance of Thomas to the level of the 
 most frugal life ; a parsimony for which the son was after- 
 wards, though not tlien, thankful, as having taught him 
 good husbandry, and preserved him from dissipation. 
 
 At the university, or soon after leaving it, young More 
 composed the greater part of his English verses ; which 
 are not such as, from their intrinsic merit, in a more ad- 
 vanced state of our language and literature, would be 
 deserving of particular attention. But as the poems of a 
 contemporary of Skelton, they may merit more consider- 
 ation. Our language was still neglected, or confined 
 chiefly to the vulgar uses of life. Its force, its compass, 
 and its capacity of harmony, were untried : for though 
 Chaucer had shone brightly for a season, the century 
 which followed was dark and wintry. No master genius 
 had impregnated the nation with poetical sensibility. In 
 these inauspicious circumstances, the composition of 
 poems, especially if they manifest a sense of harmony, and 
 
 * " Delibavimus et olim has literas sed summis dantaxat labrii, at 
 nuper paulo altius ingressi, videmus id quod Hsepe nnmeroapud gravissimos 
 auctores leginius. Latinam eruditionem extra Ortecismum itianeam esse 
 et dimidiatam. Apud nos enim rivuli vix quidam sunt, et lacunuls lutu- 
 lentse, apud illoa fontes purissimi et flumina aurum volventia." — Erasm. 
 Epist. 75. Op. iii. p. 63. Lug. Bat. 1703. 
 
 ■f Guliel. Lutimer Epist. Erasnio. Erasin. Op. iii. p. 293. 
 
8 BRITISH STAtESMEK. 
 
 some adaptation of the sound to the subject, indicates a 
 delight in poetry, and a proneness to that beautiful art, 
 which in such an age is a more than ordinary token of a 
 capacity for it. The experience of all ages, however it 
 may be accounted for, shows that the mind, when melted 
 into tenderness, or exalted by the contemplation of gran- 
 deur, vents its feelings in language suited to a state of 
 excitement, and delights in distinguishing its diction from 
 common speech by some species of measure and modula- 
 tion, which combines the gratification of the ear with that 
 of the fancy and the heart. The secret connection be- 
 tween a poetical ear and a poetical soul is touched by the 
 most sublime of poets, who consoled himself in his blindness 
 by the remembrance of those, who, under the like calamity, 
 
 Feed on thoughts that voluntary move 
 
 *" Harmonious numbers. 
 
 We may be excused for throwing a glance over the 
 compositions of a writer, who is represented a century 
 after his death, by Ben Jonson, as one of the models of 
 English literature. More's poem on the death of Elizabeth, 
 the wife of Henry VII., and his merry jest how a serjeant 
 would play the friar, may be considered as fair samples of 
 his pensive and sportive vein. The superiority of the lat- 
 ter shows his natural disposition to pleasantry. There is a 
 sort of dancing mirth in the metre, which seems to warrant 
 the observation above hazarded, that in a rude period the 
 structure of verse may be regarded as some presumption 
 of a genius for poetry. In a refined age, indeed, all the 
 circumstances are different. The frame of metrical com- 
 position is known to all the world. It may be taught by 
 rule, and acquired mechanically. The greatest facility of 
 versification may exist without a spark of genius. Even 
 then, however, the secrets of the art of versification are 
 chiefly revealed to a chosen few by their poetical sensi- 
 bility ; so that sufficient remains of the original tie still 
 continue to attest the primitive union. It is remarkable, 
 that the most poetical of his poems is written in Latin. It 
 is a poem addressed to a lady, with whom he had been in 
 love when he was sixteen years old, and she fourteen ; 
 it turns chiefly on the pleasing reflection that his affec- 
 tionate remembrance restored to her the beauty, of which 
 twenty-five years seemed to others to have robbed her.* 
 
 * " Gratulatur quod eain ropererit incolumcm quam olim ferme puer 
 amaverat."— Jl/ori Poemata. 
 
 It does not seom reconcilablo with dates, that this lady could have been 
 the younger sister of Jane Colt. Vido infri. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 9 
 
 When More had completed his time at Oxford, he ap- 
 plied himself to the law, which was to be the occupation 
 of his life. He first studied at New Inn, and afterwards 
 at Lincoln's Inn.* The societies of lawyers having pur- 
 chased some innSf or noblemen's residences, in London, 
 were hence called inns of court It was not then a meta- 
 phor to call them an university ; they had professors of 
 law ; they conferred the characters of barrister and Ser- 
 jeant, analogous to the degrees of bachelor, master, and 
 doctor, bestowed by universities ; and every man, before 
 he became a barrister, was subjected to examination, and 
 obliged to defend a thesis. More was appointed reader 
 at Furnival's Inn, where he delivered lectures for three 
 years. The English law had then grown into a science, 
 formed by a process of generalization from usages and 
 decisions, with less help from the Roman law than the 
 jurisprudence of any other country, though not with that 
 total independence of it which English lawyers in former 
 times considered as a subject of boast ; it was rather 
 formed as the law of Rome itself had been formed, than 
 adopted from that noble system. When More began to 
 lecture on English law, it was by no means in a disorderly 
 and neglected state. The ecclesiastical lawyers, whose 
 arguments and determinations were its earliest materials, 
 were well prepared, by the logic and philosophy of their 
 masters the schoolmen, for those exact and even subtle 
 distinctions which the precision of the rules of jurispru- 
 dence eminently required. In the reigns of the Lancas- 
 trian princes, Littleton had reduced the law to an elemen- 
 tary treatise, distinguished by a clear method and an 
 elegant conciseness. Fortescue had at that time compared 
 the governments of England and France with the eye of a 
 philosophical observer. Brooke and Fitzherbert had com- 
 piled digests of the law which they called (it might be 
 thought, from their size, ironically) Abridgments. The 
 latter composed a treatise, still very curious, on writs ; 
 that is, on those commands (formally from the king) which 
 constitute essential parts of every legal proceeding. 
 Other writings on jurisprudence occupied the printing 
 presses of London in the earliest stagef of their existence. 
 More delivered lectures at St. Lawrence's church in the 
 
 * Inn waa Buccessively applied, like the French word hotel, first to the 
 town mansion of a great man, and afterwards to a house where all mankind 
 were entertained for money. 
 
 t Doctor and Student, by St. Germain. DiversiVi des Cowrtcs, printed by 
 Rastal in 1534, &c. &c. 
 
10 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Old Jewry, on the work of St. Augustine, " De Civitato 
 Dei," that is, on the divine government of the moral world ; 
 which must seem to readers who look at ancient times 
 through modern habits, a very singular occupation for a 
 young lawyer. But the clergy were the chief depositaries 
 of knowledge, and were the sole canonists and civilians, 
 as they had once been the only lawyers.* Religion, mor- 
 als, and law, were then taught together without due dis- 
 tinction between them, to the injury and confusion of them 
 all. To these lectures, we are told by the affectionate 
 biographer, "there resorted doctor Grocyn, an excellent 
 cunning man, and all the chief learned of the city of Lon- 
 don."! More, in his lectures, however, did not so much 
 discuss " the points of divinity as the precepts of moral 
 philosophy and history, wherewith these books are replen- 
 ished."! They, perhaps, however, embittered his polem- 
 ical writings, and somewhat soured that naturally sweet 
 temper, which was so deeply felt by his companions, that 
 Erasmus scarcely ever concludes a letter to him without 
 epithets more indicative of the most tender affection than 
 of the calm feelings of friendship.§ 
 
 The tenderness of his nature combined with the instruc- 
 tions and habits of his education to predispose him to piety. 
 As he lived in the neighborhood of the great Carthusian 
 monastery, called the Charterhouse, for some years, he 
 manifested a predilection for monastic life, and is said to 
 have practised some of those austerities and self-inflictions 
 which prevail among the gloomier and more stern orders. 
 A pure mind in that age often sought to extinguish some 
 of the inferior impulses of human nature, instead of em- 
 ploying them for their appointed purpose, — that of animat- 
 ing the domestic affections, and sweetening the most 
 important duties of life.|| He soon learnt, by self exami- 
 nation, his unfitness for the priesthood, and relinquished 
 his project of taking orders, in words which should have 
 warned his church against the imposition of unnatural 
 self denial on vast multitudes and successive generations 
 of men.1I 
 
 The same affectionate disposition which had driven him 
 towards the visions, and, strange as it may seem, to the 
 
 ♦ JifiMus causidicus nisi clericus. 
 
 t Roper, p. 5. Singer's edition. % Mere's Life of Sir T. More, p. 44. 
 
 $ Suavissime More. Charissime More. Mellitissime More. 
 
 II Founded in thee 
 
 Relations dear and all the charities, Sec. 
 IT " Maluit maritus esse castus quam sacerdos impurus." — Erasm. Ep. ad 
 Ulric ab Hutton, 23 July, 1519. Op. iii. p. 475. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 11 
 
 austerities of the monks, now sought a more natural chan- 
 nel. " He resorted to the house of one maister Colt, a 
 gentleman of Essex, who had often invited him thither ; 
 having three daughters, whose honest conversation and 
 virtuous education provoked him there especially to set 
 his affection. And albeit his mind most served him to the 
 second daughter, for that he thought her the fairest and 
 best favored, yet when he considered that it would be both 
 great grief, and some shame also, to the eldest, to see her 
 younger sister preferred before her in marriage, he then 
 of a certain pity framed his fancy toward her, and soon 
 after married her, neverthemore discontinuing his study of 
 the law at Lincoln's Inn."* His more remote descendant 
 adds, that Mr. Colt " proffered unto him the choice of any 
 of his daughters ; and that More, out of a kind of compas- 
 sion, settled his fancy on the eldest."f Erasmus gives a 
 turn to More's marriage with Jane Colt, which is too in- 
 genious to be probable : — " He wedded a very young girl 
 of respectable family, but who had hitherto lived in the 
 country with her parents and sisters ; and was so unedu- 
 cated, that he could mould her to his own tastes and man- 
 ners. He caused her to be instructed in letters ; and she 
 became a very skilful musician, which peculiarly pleased 
 him."t 
 
 The plain matter of fact seems to have been, that in an 
 age when marriage chiefly depended upon a bargain 
 between parents, on which sons were little consulted, and 
 daughters not at all. More, emerging at twenty-one from 
 the toil of acquiring Greek, and the voluntary self torture 
 of Carthusian mystics, was delighted at his first entry 
 among pleasing young women, of whom the least attract- 
 ive might, in these circumstances, have touched him ; and 
 that his slight preference for the second easily yielded to 
 a good-natured reluctance to mortify the elder. Most 
 young ladies in Essex, in the beginning of the sixteenth 
 century, probably required some tuition to appear in Lon- 
 don among scholars and courtiers, who were at that mo- 
 ment more mingled than it is now usual for them to be. 
 It is impossible to ascertain the precise shade of feeling 
 which the biographers intended to denote by the words 
 " pity " and " compassion," for the use of which they are 
 charged with a want of gallantry or delicacy by modern 
 writers ; although neither of these terms, when the context 
 
 * Roper, p, 6. Singer's edition. t More, p. 30, 
 
 J Epist, ad Ulric. ab Hutton, ut iupri. 
 
12 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 is at the same time read, seems unhappily employed to sig- 
 nify the natural refinement, which shrinks from humbling 
 the harmless self-complacency of an innocent girl. 
 
 The marriage proved so happy, that nothing was to be 
 regretted in it but the shortness of the union, in conse- 
 quence of the early death of Jane Colt, who left a son and 
 three daughters ; of whom Margaret, the eldest, inherited 
 the features, the form, and the genius of her father, and 
 requited his fond partiality by a daughterly love, which 
 endured to the end. 
 
 In no long time* after the death of Jane Colt, he mar- 
 ried Alice Middleton, a widow, seven years older than 
 himself, and neither handsome nor young ; rather for the 
 care of his family, and the management of his house, than 
 as a companion and a friend. He treated her, and indeed 
 most females except his daughter Margaret, as better 
 qualified to relish a jest, than to take a part in more serious 
 conversation ; and in their presence gave an unbounded 
 scope to his natural inclination towards pleasantry. He 
 even indulged himself in a Latin jingle on her want of 
 youth and beauty, " nee bella nee puella."f " She was of 
 good years, of no good favor or complexion, nor very rich, 
 and by disposition near and worldly. It was reported that 
 he wooed her for a friend of his ; but she answering that 
 he might speed if he spoke for himself, he married her 
 with the consent of his friend, yielding to her that which 
 perhaps he never would have done of his own accord. 
 Indeed, her favor could not have bewitched, or scarce 
 moved, any man to love her ; but yet she proved a kind 
 and careful mother-in-law to his children." Erasmus, who 
 was often an inmate in the family, speaks of her as " a 
 keen and watchful manager, with whom More lived on 
 terms of as much respect and kindness as if she had been 
 fair and young." Such is the happy power of a loving 
 disposition, which overflows on companions, though their 
 attractions or deserts should be slender. " No husband," 
 continues Erasmus, " ever gained so much obedience from 
 a wife by authority and severity, as More won by gentle- 
 ness and pleasantry. Though verging on old age, and not 
 of a yielding temper, he prevailed on her to take lessons 
 on the lute, the cithara, the viol, the monochord, and the 
 flute, which she daily practised to him. With the same 
 gentleness he ruled his whole family, so that it was with- 
 
 * " In a few months," says Erasmus, in his letter to Hutton : within two 
 or three years, according to his great grandson, — Marc's Life of More, p. ^. 
 t Erasm. Epist. ad Hutt. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 13 
 
 out broils or quarrels. He composed all differences, and 
 never parted with any one on terms of unkindness. The 
 house was fated to the peculiar felicity that those who 
 dwelt in it were always raised to a higher fortune ; and that 
 no spot ever fell on the good name of its happy inhabitants." 
 The course of More's domestic life is minutely described 
 by eye witnesses. " His custom was daily (besides his 
 private prayers with his children) to say the seven psalms, 
 the litany, and the suffrages following ; so was his guise 
 with his wife, children, and household, nightly before he 
 went to bed, to go to his chapel, and there on his knees or- 
 dinarily to say certain psalms and collects with them."* 
 " With him," says Erasmus, " you might imagine youraelf 
 in the academy of Plato. But I should do injustice to his 
 house by comparing it to the academy of Plato, where 
 numbers, and geometrical figures, and sometimes moral 
 virtues, were the subjects of discussion ; it would be more 
 just to call it a school and exercise of the Christian relig- 
 ion. All its inhabitants, male or female, applied their 
 leisure to liberal studies and profitable reading, although 
 piety was their first care. No wrangling, no angry 
 word, was heard in it ; no one was idle : every one did his 
 duty with alacrity, and not without a temperate cheerful- 
 ness."f Erasmus had not the sensibility of his friend : he 
 was more prone to smile than to sigh at the concerns of 
 men ; but he was touched by tlie remembrance of these 
 domestic solemnities in the household of his friends. He 
 manifests an agreeable emotion at the recollection of these 
 scenes in daily life, which tended to hallow the natural 
 authority of parents ; to bestow a soit of dignity on humble 
 occupations ; to raise menial offices to the rank of virtues ; 
 to spread peace and cultivate kindness among those who 
 had shared, and were soon again to share, the same 
 modest rites, in gently breathing around them a spirit of 
 meek equality, which rather humbled the pride of the 
 great than disquieted the spirits of the lowly. More him- 
 self justly speaks of the hourly interchange of the smaller 
 acts of kindness which flow from the charities of domestic 
 life, as having a claim on his time as strong as the occu- 
 pations which seemed to others so much more serious and 
 important. "While," says he, "in pleading, in hearing, 
 in deciding causes or composing differences, in waiting on 
 some men about business, and on others out of respect, 
 the greatest part of the day is spent on other men's affairs, 
 
 * Roper, p. 25. Singer's edition. 
 t Eraam. Epist. 426. Opp. iii. 1810. 
 VOL. I. 2 
 
14 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 the remainder of it must be given to my family at home ; 
 so that I can reserve no part of it to myself, that is, to 
 study. I must talk with my wife, and chat with my chil- 
 dren, and I have somewhat to say to my servants ; for all 
 these things I reckon as a part of my business, except a 
 man will resolve to be a stranger at home ; and with 
 whomsoever either nature, chance, or choice, has engaged 
 a man in any commerce, he must endeavor to make him- 
 self as acceptable to those about him as he can."* 
 
 His occupations now necessarily employed a large 
 portion of his time. His professional practice became so 
 considerable, that about the accession of Henry VHL, in 
 1509, with his legal office in the city of London, it pro- 
 duced 400Z. a year, probably equivalent to an annual 
 income of 5000Z. in the present day. Though it be not 
 easy to determine the exact period of the occurrences of 
 his life, from his establishment in London to his accept- 
 ance of political office, the beginning of Henry VHI.'s 
 reign may be considered as the time of his highest emi- 
 nence at the bar. About this time a ship belonging to 
 the pope, or claimed by his holiness on behalf of some of 
 his subjects, happened to come to Southampton, where 
 she was seized as a forfeiture to the king ; probably as 
 what is called a droit of the crown, or a droit of the admi- 
 ralty, though in what circumstances or on what grounds 
 we know not. The papal minister made suit to the king 
 that the case might be argued for the pope by learned 
 counsel in a public place, and in presence of tlie minister 
 himself, who was a distinguished civilian. None was 
 found so well qualified to be of counsel for the ambassador 
 as More, who could report in Latin to that minister all the 
 reasonings of the counsel on both sides. More accord- 
 ingly stated all their arguments to his client, and argued 
 so learnedly on the pope's side, that he succeeded in ob- 
 taining an order for the restitution of the vessel detained ; 
 and appears by his probity and ability to have reached the 
 summit of his forensic reputation.f There was no case 
 of consequence in controversy before any court of law, in 
 which he was not of counsel for one of the parties. 
 
 It has been already intimated, that about the same time 
 he was appointed to a judicial office in the city of London, 
 which is described by his son-in-law as one of the under- 
 sheriffs of the city. These officers are now annually ap- 
 
 '* Dedication of Utopia to Peter Giles, Burnet's translation, 1684. 
 t Eoper, p. 9. 
 
SIR TH03fAS MORE. 15 
 
 pointed, and exercise no judicial powers. Roper, who was 
 for many years an officer of the court of King's Bench, 
 gives the name of the office correctly ; but does not de- 
 scribe its nature and importance so truly as Erasmus, who 
 tells his correspondent that More passed several years in 
 the city of London, where he was born, as a judge in civil 
 causes. "This office, though not laborious, for the 
 court sits only on the forenoon of every Thursday, is ac- 
 counted very honorable. No judge of that court ever 
 went through more causes ; none decided them more up- 
 rightly ; often remitting the fees to which he was entitled 
 from the suitors. His deportment in this capacity endeared 
 him extremely to his fellow-citizens."* He was judge of 
 the sheriff's court, which, being the county court for Lon- 
 don and Middlesex, was, at that time, a station of honor 
 and advantage.! For the county courts in general, and 
 indeed all the ancient subordinate jurisdictions of the com- 
 mon law, had not yet been superseded by that concentra- 
 tion of authority in the hands of the superior courts at 
 Westminster, which contributed to the purity and dignity 
 of the judicial character, as well as to a perfect uniformity 
 and a constant improvement of the administration of law ; 
 a great commendation, it is true, but to which we cannot 
 add that it served in the same degree to promote a speedy 
 and cheap redress of the wrongs suffered by those suitors 
 to whom cost and delay are most grievous. More's office, 
 in that state of jurisdiction, might therefore have possessed 
 the importance which his contemporaries ascribed to it; 
 although the denomination of it would not make such an 
 impression on modern ears. 
 
 From communications obtained for me from the records 
 of the city, I am enabled to ascertain some particulars of 
 the nature of More's appointment, Avhich have occasioned 
 a difference of opinion. He was under-sheriff of London ; 
 for, on the 8th of May, 1514, it was agreed by the common 
 council, " that Thomas More, gentleman, one of the under- 
 sheriffs of London, should occupy his office and chamber 
 by a sufficient deputy, during his absence as the king's 
 ambassador in Flanders." It appears from several entries 
 in the same records, from 1496 to 1502 inclusive, that the 
 under-sheriffi was annually elected, or rather confirmed ; 
 
 * Erasm. Ep. ad Ulric. Hutt. 
 
 t " In urbe sua pro shyrevo dixit." These are the words of an inscription 
 intended by More himself on his family monument, and sent to Erasmus, 
 15th June, 1532.— Era^m. 0pp. in. 1441. 
 
 t The Latin term for under-sheriff in the entries is subvicecomes ; but the 
 leave of absence during the Flemish mission is in English. 
 
16 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 for the practice was not to remove him without his own 
 application or some serious fault. For six years of Henry's 
 reign, Edward Dudley was one of the under-sheriffs ; a 
 circumstance which renders the superior importance of the 
 office at that time probable. Thomas Marowe, the author 
 of works on law esteemed in his time, though not publish- 
 ed, appears in the above records as under-sheriff. 
 
 It is apparent, that either as a considerable source of his 
 income, or as an honorable token of public confidence, 
 this office was valued by More ; since he informs Eras- 
 mus, in 1516, that he had declined a handsome pension 
 offered to him by the king on his return from Flanders : 
 that he believed he should always decline it; because 
 either it would oblige him to resign his office in the city, 
 which he preferred to a better, or if he retained it, in case 
 of a controversy of the city with the king for their privi- 
 leges, he might be deemed by his fellow-citizens to be 
 disabled by dependence on the crown from sincerely and 
 faithfully maintaining their rights.* This last reasoning 
 is also interesting, as the first intimation of the necessity 
 of a city law-officer being independent on the crown, and 
 of the legal resistance of the corporation of London to a 
 Tudor king. It paved the way for those happier times, in 
 which the great city had the honor to number the Holts 
 and the Denmans among her legal advisers. 
 
 He is the first person in our history distinguished by the 
 faculty of public speaking, and remarkable for the success- 
 ful employment of it in parliament against a lavish grant 
 of money to the crown. The circumstances of a fact thus 
 doubly memorable are related by his son-in-law as follows : 
 — " In the latter time of king Henry VII. he was made a 
 burgess of the parliament, wherein was demanded by the 
 king about three fifteenths for the marriage of his eldest 
 daughter, that then should be the Scottish queen. At the 
 last debating whereof he made such arguments and rea- 
 sons there against, that the king's demands were thereby 
 clean overthrown ; so that one of the king's privy chamber, 
 named maister Tyler, being present thereat, brought word 
 to the king out of the parliament house, that a beardless 
 boy had disappointed all his purpose. Whereupon the 
 king, conceiving great indignation towards him, could not 
 be satisfied untU he had some way revenged it. And for- 
 asmuch as he, nothing having, could nothing lose, his 
 grace devised a causeless quarrel against his father; 
 
 * Thomas Moras Erasmo. 1516. Ep. 227. Erasmt 0pp. iii. 220. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 17 
 
 keeping liim in the Tower till he had made him to pay 
 _ 100/. fine" (probably on a charge of having infringed some 
 obsolete penal law). " Shortly after, it fortuned that sir 
 T. More, coming in a suit to Dr. Fox, bishop of Winches- 
 ter, one of the king's privy council, the bishop called him 
 aside, and, pretending great favor towards him, promised 
 that if he would be ruled by him he would not fail into 
 the king's favor again to restore him ; meaning, as it was 
 afterwards conjectured, to cause him thereby to confess 
 his offences against the king, whereby his highness might, 
 with the better color, have occasion to revenge his dis- 
 pleasure against him. But when he came from the bishop, 
 he fell into communication with one maister Whitforde, 
 his familiar friend, then chaplain to that bishop, and showed 
 him what the bishop had said, praying for his advice. 
 Whitforde prayed him by the passion of God not to follow 
 the counsel ; for my lord, to serve the king's turn, will not 
 stick to agree to his own father's death. So sir Thomas 
 More returned to the bishop no more ; and had not the 
 king died soon after, he was determined to have gone over 
 sea."* That the advice of Whitford was wise, ap- 
 peared from a circumstance which occurred nearly ten 
 years after, which exhibits a new feature in the charac- 
 ter of the king and of his bishops. When Dudley was 
 sacrificed to popular resentment, under Henry VIII., and 
 when he was on his way to execution, he jnet sir Thomas, 
 to whom he said, — " Oh More, More ! God was your good 
 friend, that you did not ask the king forgiveness, as manic 
 would have had you do ; for if you had done so, perhaps 
 you should have been in the like case with us iww."^ 
 
 It was natural that the restorer of political eloquence, 
 which had slumbered for a long series of ages,t should 
 also be the earliest of the parliamentary champions of 
 liberty. But it is lamentable that we have so little infor- 
 mation respecting sir Thomas More's oratory, which alone 
 could have armed him for the noble conflict. He may be 
 said to hold the same station among us, which is assigned 
 by Cicero, in his dialogue on the celebrated orators of 
 Rome,§ to Cato the censor, whose consulship was only 
 
 * Roper, p. 7. There seems to be some forgetfulness of dates in the latter 
 part of this passage, which has been copied by succeeding writers. Mar- 
 garet, it is well known, wan married in 1503. The debate was not, there- 
 fore, later than that year. But Henry VII. lived till 1509. 
 
 t More's Life of iMore, p. 38. 
 
 I " PoEtquam pugnatum est apud Actinm, magna ilia ingenia cessere." — 
 Tacitus. 
 
 $ BrutuB, sivc de Claris Oratoribm. 
 o # 
 
18 BRITISH &TATES1VIEX. 
 
 about ninety years prior to tlie consulship of Cicero him- 
 self. That celebrated Roman had, indeed, made an ani- 
 mated speech in the eighty-fifth year of his age, which 
 was the last of his life. A hundred and fifty of his 
 speeches were extant in the time of Cicero. " But," says 
 the latter, " what living or lately deceased orator has read 
 them ? Who knows them at all ?" 
 
 Sir Thomas More's answer, as speaker of the house of 
 commons, to Wolsey, of which more will be said present- 
 ly, is admirable for its promptitude, quickness, seasonable- 
 ness, and caution, combined with dignity and spirit. It 
 unites presence of mind and adaptation to the person and 
 circumstances, with address and management seldom sur- 
 passed. If the tone be more submissive than suits modem 
 ears, it is yet remarkable for that ingenious refinement 
 which for an instant shows a glimpse of the sword gener- 
 ally hidden under robes of state. " His eloquent tongue," 
 • says Erasmus, " so well seconds his fertile invention, that 
 no one speaks better when suddenly called forth. His at- 
 tention never languishes ; his mind is always before his 
 words ; his memory has all its stock so turned into ready mo- 
 ney, that, without hesitation or delay, it gives out whatever 
 the time and the case may require. His acuteness in dis- 
 pute is unrivalled, and he often perplexes the most 
 renowned theologians when he enters their province."* 
 Though much of this encomium may be applicable rather 
 to private conversation than to public debate ; and though 
 his presence of mind may refer most to promptitude of 
 repartee, and comparatively little to that readiness of re- 
 ply, of which his experience must have been limited ; it 
 is still obvious that the great critic has ascribed to his 
 friend the higher part of those mental qualities, which, 
 when justly balanced and perfectly trained, constitute a 
 great orator. 
 
 As if it had been the lot of More to open all the paths 
 through the wilds of our old English speech, he is to be 
 considered as our earliest prose writer, and as the first 
 Englishman who wrote the history of his country in its 
 present language. The historical fragment commands be- 
 lief by simplicity, and by abstinence from too confident 
 affirmation. It betrays some negligence about minute par- 
 ticulars, which is not displeasing as a symptom of the 
 absence of eagerness to enforce a narrative. The compo- 
 sition has an ease and a rotundity, which gratify the ear 
 
 * Erasni. Epist. od Ulric. ub Huttoii. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 19 
 
 without awakening the suspicion of art, of which there 
 was no model in any preceding writer of English prose. 
 
 In comparing the prose of More with the modern style, 
 we must distinguish the words from the composition. A 
 very small part of his vocabulary has been superannuated. 
 The number of terms which require any explanation is 
 inconsiderable ; and in that respect the stability of the 
 language is remarkable. He is, indeed, in his words, more 
 English than the great writers of a century after him, who 
 loaded their native tongue with expressions of Greek or 
 Latin derivation. Cicero, speaking of old Cato, seems al- 
 most to describe More. " His style is rather antiquated ; 
 he has some words displeasing to our ears, but which were 
 then in familiar use. Change those terms, which he could 
 not, you will then prefer no speaker to Cato."* 
 
 But in the combination and arrangement of words, in 
 ordinary phraseology and common habits of composition, 
 he differs more widely from the style prevalent among us 
 for nearly two centuries. His diction seems a continued 
 experiment to discover the forms into which the language 
 naturally runs. In that attempt he has frequently failed. 
 Fortunate accident, or more varied experiment in after- 
 times, led to the adoption of other combinations, which 
 could scarcely have succeeded, if tliey had not been more 
 consonant to the spirit of the language, and more agree- 
 able to the ear and the feelings of the people. The struc- 
 ture of his sentences is frequently not that which the 
 English language has finafiy adopted. The language of 
 his countrymen has decided, without appeal, against the 
 composition of the father of English prose. 
 
 The speeches contained in his fragment, like many of 
 those in the ancient historians, were probably as reel as 
 he could render them in substance ; but brightened by or- 
 nament, and improved in composition. It could, indeed, 
 scarcely be otherwise ; for the history was written in 
 1513,t and the death of Edward IV., with which it opens, 
 occurred in 1483 ; and cardinal Morton, who became prime 
 minister two years after that event, appears to have taken 
 
 ♦ Brutus, c. 68. 
 
 t Holinshed, iii. 360. Ilolinshed called More'a work " unfinished." 
 That it was meant to extend to the death of Richard III. seems probable 
 from the following sentence : — " But, forasmuch as this duke's (the duke 
 of Gloucester) demeanor ministereth in effect all the whole matter whereof 
 this book shall entreat, it is therefore convenient to show you, as we farther 
 go, what manner of man this was that could find in his heart such mischief 
 to conceive." — lb. 361. 
 
20 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 
 ronng More into his household about the year 1493. 
 
 ''here is little scope, in so short a time, for much falsifica- 
 tion, by tradition, of the arguments and topics really em- 
 ployed. 
 
 The speeches have the merit of being accommodated to 
 the circumstances, and of disposing those to whom they 
 were addressed to promote the object of the speaker. 
 Strange as it may seem, this rare merit renders it probable 
 that More had been taught, by the practice of speaking in 
 contests where objects the most important are the prize 
 of the victor, that eloquence is the art of persuasion ; and 
 that the end of the orator is not the display of his talents, 
 but dominion over the minds of his hearers. The dying 
 speech, in which Edward exhorts the two parties of his 
 friends to harmony, is a grave appeal to their prudence, as 
 well as an affecting address from a father and a king to 
 their public feelings. The surmises thrown out by Rich- 
 ard against the Widvilles are short, dark, and well adapted 
 to awaken suspicion and alarm. The insinuations against 
 the queen, and the threats of danger to the lords them- 
 selves from leaving the person of the duke of York in the 
 hands of that princess, in Richard's speech to the privy 
 council, before the archbishop of York was sent to West- 
 minster to demand the surrender of the boy, are admirable 
 specimens of the address and art of crafty ambition. 
 Generally speaking, the speeches have little of the vague 
 common-place of rhetoricians and declaimers. They are 
 calculated for the very persons to whom they were spoken, 
 and fitted for all their peculiarities of interest and temper. 
 Time is not wasted in parade. In the case, indeed, of the 
 dispute between the archbishop and the queen, about 
 taking the duke of York out of his mother's care, in sanc- 
 tuary at Westminster, there is more ingenious argument 
 than the scene allows ; and the mind rejects logical refine- 
 ments, of which the use, on such an occasion, is quite 
 irreconcilable to dramatic verisimilitude. The duke of 
 Buckingham alleged in council, that sanctuary could be 
 claimed only against danger ; and that tlie royal infant had 
 neither wisdom to desire sanctuary nor the malicious inten- 
 tion in his acts without which he could not require it. To this 
 notable paradox, which amounted to an affirmation that no 
 certainly innocent person could ever claim protection from a 
 sanctuary, when it was carried to the queen, she answered 
 readily, that if she could be in sanctuary, it followed that 
 her child, who was her ward, was included in her protec- 
 
SIR THOIVIAS MORE. 21 
 
 tion, as much as her servants were, without contradiction, 
 allowed to be. 
 
 The Latin epigrams of More, a small volume which it 
 required two years to carry through the press at Basil, are 
 mostly translations from the Anthologia, which were rather 
 made known to Europe by the fame of the writer, than 
 calculated to increase it. They contain, however, some 
 decisive proofs that he always entertained the opinions 
 respecting the dependence of all government on the con- 
 sent of the people, to which he professed his adherence 
 almost in his dying moments. Latin versification was not 
 in that early period successfully attempted in any trans- 
 alpine country. The rules of prosody, or at least the 
 laws of metrical composition, were not yet sufficiently 
 studied for such attempts. His Latinity was of the 
 same school with that of his friend Erasmus ; which was, in- 
 deed, common to the first generation of scholars after the 
 revival of classical study. Finding Latin a sort of gene- 
 ral language employed by men of letters in their conver- 
 sation and correspondence, they continued the use of it in 
 the mixed and corrupted state to which such an applica- 
 tion had necessarily reduced it: they began, indeed, to 
 purify it from some grosser corruptions ; but they built 
 their style upon the foundation of this colloquial dialect, 
 with no rigorous observation of the good usage of the 
 Roman language. Writings of business, of pleasantry, 
 of familiar intercourse, could never have been composed 
 in pure Latinity, which was still more inconsistent with 
 new manners, institutions, and opinions, and with discoveries 
 and inventions added to those which were transmitted by 
 antiquity. Erasmus, who is the master and model of this 
 system of composition, admirably shows how much had 
 been gained by loosening the fetters of a dead speech, 
 and acquiring in its stead the nature, ease, variety, and 
 vivacity of a spoken and living tongue. The course of 
 circumstances, however, determined that this language 
 should not subsist, or at least flourish, for much more 
 than a century. It was assailed on one side by the purely 
 classical, whom Erasmus, in derision, calls " Ciceronians ;" 
 and when it was sufficiently emasculated by dread of their 
 censure, it was finally overAvhelmed by the rise of a nation- 
 al literature in every European language. 
 
 More exemplified the abundance and flexibility of the 
 Erasmian Latinity in Utopia, with which this short view 
 of all his writings, except those of controversy, may be 
 fitly concluded. The idea of the work was suggested 
 
22 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 by some of the dialogues of Plato, who speaks of vast 
 territories, formerly cultivated and peopled, but afterwards, 
 by some convulsion of nature, covered by the Atlantic 
 Ocean. These Egyptian traditions, or legends, harmon- 
 ized admirably with that discovery of a new continent by 
 Columbus, which had roused the admiration of Europe 
 about twenty years before the composition of Utopia. 
 This was the name of an island feigned to have been dis- 
 covered by a supposed companion of Amerigo Vespucci, 
 who is made to tell the wondrous tale of its condition to 
 More, at Antwerp, in 1514. 
 
 More, imitating the ancients only as a philosopher, 
 borrowed from Plato the conception of an imaginary com- 
 monwealth, of which he placed the seat in Utopia. All 
 the names which he invented for men or places* were 
 intimations of their being unreal, and were, perhaps, by 
 treating with raillery his own notions, intended to silence 
 gainsayers. The first book, which is preliminary, is natu- 
 rally and ingeniously opened by a conversation, in which 
 Raphael Hythloday, the Utopian traveller, describes his 
 visit to England ; where, as much as in other countries, he 
 found all proposals for improvement encountered by the 
 remark that " Such things pleased our ancestors, and it 
 were well for us if we could but match them ; as if it were 
 a great mischief that any should be found wiser than his 
 ancestors."! "I met these proud, morose, and absurd 
 judgments, particularly once when dining with cardinal 
 Morton at London." After describing that portion of 
 More's boyhood in a manner which was sure to win his 
 heart, Raphael proceeds to say, " that there happened to 
 be at table an English lawyer, who run out into high com- 
 mendation of the severe execution of justice upon thieves, 
 who were then hanged so fast that there were sometimes 
 twenty hanging upon^ one gibbet ; and added, ' that he 
 could not wonder enough how it came to pass that there 
 
 * The following specimen of Utopian etymologies may amuse some 
 readers : — 
 
 Utopia - - ovTOTTOs - - - nowhere. 
 
 Achorians - a-x^P^ - - - o*""© country. 
 
 Ademians - a-STjuos - - - of no people. 
 
 Anyder (a river) a-v5u)p - - - waterless. ) The invisible city is on 
 
 Amaurot (a city) a-fxavpos - - - dark. \ the river Waterless. 
 
 Hythloday - Saita-vBXos - - a learner of trifles, &c. 
 
 Some are intentionally unmeaning, and others are taken from little known 
 language in order to perplex pedants. Joseph Scaliger represents Utopia 
 as a word not formed according to the analogy which regulates the formation 
 of Greek words. — Epist. Oer. Jao. Voss. 340. Amstel. 1699. 
 
 t Burnet's translation of Utopia, p. 13. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 23 
 
 were so many thieves left robbing in all places.' " Ra- 
 phael answered, " that it was because the punishment of 
 death was neither just in itself, nor good for the public ; 
 for as the severity was too great, so the remedy was not 
 effectual.* You, as well as other nations, like bad school- 
 masters, chastise their scholars because they have not the 
 skill to teach them." Raphael afterwards more specially 
 ascribed the gangs of banditti, who, after the suppression 
 of Perkin Warbeck's Cornish revolt, infested England, to 
 two causes ; of which the first was the frequent disband- 
 ing of the idle and armed retainers of the nobles, who, 
 when from necessity let loose from their masters, were too 
 proud for industry, and had no resource but rapine ; and 
 the second weis the conversion of much corn-field into 
 pasture for sheep, because the latter had become more 
 profitable ; by which base motives many landholders were 
 tempted to expel their tenants and destroy the food of 
 man. Raphael suggested the substitution of hard labor 
 for death ; for which he quoted the example of the Ro- 
 mans, and of an imaginary community in Persia. " The 
 lawyer answered, ' that it could never be so settled in 
 England, without endangering the whole nation by it :' he 
 shook his head, and made some grimaces, and then held his 
 peace, and all the company seemed to be of his mind. 
 But the cardinal said, ' It is not easy to say whether this 
 plan would succeed or not, since no trial has been made 
 of it ; but it might be tried on thieves condemned to death, 
 and adopted if found to answer: and vagabonds might be 
 treated in the same way.' When the cardinal had said 
 this, they all fell to commend the motion, though they had 
 despised it when it came from me. They more particular- 
 ly commended that concerning the vagabonds, because it 
 had been added by him." 
 
 From some part of the above extracts it is apparent 
 that More, instead of having anticipated the econom- 
 ical doctrines of Adam Smith, as some modern wri- 
 ters have fancied, was thoroughly imbued with the preju- 
 dices of his contemporaries against the inclosure of 
 commons, and the extension of pasture. It is, however, 
 observable, that he is perfectly consistent with himself, 
 and follows his principals through all their legitimate 
 consequences, though they may end in doctrines of very 
 startling sound. Considering separate property as always 
 productive of unequal distribution of the fruits of labor, 
 
 * Burnet's translation of Utopia, book i. 
 
24 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 and regarding that inequality of fortune as the source of 
 bodily suffering to those who labor, and of mental depriva- 
 tion to those who are not compelled to toil for subsist- 
 ence, Hythloday is made to say, that " as long as there is 
 any property, and while money is the standard of all other 
 things, he cannot expect that a nation can be governed either 
 justly or happUy."* More himself objects to Hythloday : 
 " It seems to me that men cannot live conveniently where 
 all things are common. How can there be any plenty 
 where every man will excuse himself from laboring ? for, 
 as the hope of gain doth not excite him, so the confidence 
 that he has in other men's industry may make him sloth- 
 ful. And if people come to be pinched with want, and 
 yet cannot dispose of any thing as their own, what can 
 follow but perpetual sedition and bloodshed; especially 
 when the reverence and authority due to magistrates fall 
 to the ground : for I cannot imagine how they can be kept 
 up among those that are in all things equal to one another." 
 These remarks do in reality contain the germs of unan- 
 swerable objections to all those projects of a community 
 of goods, which suppose the moral character of the major- 
 ity of mankind to continue, at the moment of their adop- 
 tion, such as it has been heretofore in the most favorable 
 instances. If, indeed, it be proposed only on the supposi- 
 tion, that by the influence of laws, or by the agency of 
 any other cause, mankind in general are rendered more 
 honest, more benevolent, more disinterested, than they 
 have hitherto been, it is evident that they will, in the same 
 proportion, approach to a practice more near the princi- 
 ple of an equality and a community of all advantages. 
 The hints of an answer to Plato, thrown out by More, are 
 so decisive, that it is not easy to see how he left this 
 speck on his romance, unless we may be allowed to sus- 
 pect that the speculation was in part suggested as a con- 
 venient cover for that biting satire on the sordid and rapa- 
 cious government of Henry VII. which occupies a con- 
 siderable portion of Hythloday's first discourse. It may 
 also be supposed that More, not anxious to save visionary 
 reformers from a few light blows in an attack aimed at 
 corrupt and tyrannical statesmen, thinks it suitable to his 
 imaginary personage, and conducive to the liveliness of liis 
 fiction, to represent the traveller in Utopia as touched by 
 one of the most alluring and delusive of political chimeras. 
 
 ♦ Utopia, 57. Happening to writo where I havo no access to the original, 
 1 use Burnet'i! translation. There can be no doubt of Burnet's leanunir or 
 fidelity. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 25 
 
 In Utopia, farm-houses were built over the whole coun- 
 try, to which inhabitants were sent in rotation from the 
 fifty-four cities. Every family had forty men and women, 
 besides two slaves ; a master and mistress preside over 
 every family, and over thirty families a magistrate. Every 
 year twenty of the family return to town, being two years 
 in the country ; so that all acquire some knowledge of 
 agriculture, and the land is never left in the hands of 
 persons quite unacquainted with country labors. When 
 they want any thing in the country which it doth not 
 produce, they fetch it from the city without carrying 
 any thing in exchange. The magistrates take care 
 to see it given to them. The people of the towna 
 carry their commodities to the market place, where they 
 are taken away by those who need them. The chief 
 business of the magistrates is to take care that no man 
 may live idle, and that every one should labor in his trade 
 for six hours of every twenty-four: a portion of time, 
 which, according to Hythloday, was sufficient for an 
 abundant supply of all the necessaries and moderate ac- 
 commodations of the community, and which is not inade- 
 quate where all labor, and none apply extreme labor to 
 the production of superfluities to gratify a few, where 
 there are no idle priests or idle rich men, and where women 
 of all sorts perform their light allotment of labor. To 
 women all domestic offices which did not degrade or dis- 
 please were assigned. Unhappily, however, the iniquitous 
 and unrighteous expedient wa.s devised, of releasing the 
 better order of females from offensive and noisome occu- 
 pations, by throwing them upon slaves. Their citizens 
 were forbidden to be butchers, " because they think that 
 pity and good-nature, which are among the best of those 
 affections that are born loithin us, are much impaired by the 
 butchering of aniinalsJ" A striking representation, incieed, 
 of the depraving effiscts of cruelty to animals, but abused for 
 the iniquitous and cruel purpose of training inferiors to bar- 
 barous habits, in ordc r to preserve for their masters the 
 exclusive benefit of a discipline of humanity. Slaves, too, 
 were employed in hunting, which was deemed too frivo- 
 lous and barbarous an amusement for citizens. "They 
 look upon hunting as one of the basest parts of a butcher's 
 business, for they account it more decent to kill beasts for 
 the sustenance of mankind, than to take pleasure in seeing 
 a weak, harmless, and fearful hare torn in pieces by a 
 strong, fierce, and cruel dog." An excess of population 
 was remedied by planting colonies ; a defect, by the recall 
 
 VOL. I. 3 
 
26 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 of the necessary number of former colonists; irregularities 
 of distribution, by transferring the superfluous members 
 of one township to supply the vacancies in another. They 
 did not enslave their prisoners, nor the children of their 
 own slaves. They are criminals condemned to slavery as 
 a punishment; which would be no injustice in itself, if 
 they had not purchased persons so condemned in other 
 countries, which was in effect a premium on unjust con- 
 victions. — In those maladies where there is no hope of 
 cure or alleviation, it was customary for the Utopian priests 
 to advise the patient voluntarily to shorten his useless and 
 burthensome life by opium or some equally easy means. In 
 cases of suicide without permission of the priests and the 
 senate, the party is excluded from the honors of a decent 
 funeral. They allow divorce in adultery and incorrigible 
 perverseness. Slavery is the general punishment of the 
 highest crime. They have few laws, and no lawyers. 
 " Utopus, the founder of the state, made a law that every 
 man might be of what religion he pleased, and might en- 
 deavor to draw others to it by force of argument and by 
 amicable and modest ways ; but those who used reproach- 
 es or violence in their attempts were to be condemned to 
 banishment or slavery." 
 
 The following passage is so remarkable, and has hither- 
 to been so little considered in the history of toleration, that 
 I shall insert it at length : — " This law was made by Uto- 
 pus, not only for preserving the public peace, which, he 
 said, suffered much by daily contentions and irreconcila- 
 ble heat in these matters, but because he thought the in- 
 terest of religion itself required it. As for those who so 
 far depart from the dignity of human nature as to think 
 that our souls died with our bodies, or that the world was 
 governed by chance without a wise and over-ruling Provi- 
 dence, the Utopians never raise them to honors or offices, 
 nor employ them in any public trust, but despise them as 
 men of base and sordid minds ; yet they do not punish 
 such men, because they lay it dow" as a ground, that a 
 man cannot make himself believe any thing he pleases ; 
 nor do they drive any to dissemble their thoughts ; so that 
 men are not tempted to lie or disguise their opinions among 
 them, which, being a sort of fraud, is abhorred by the Utopi- 
 ans." A beautiful and conclusive reason, which, when it was 
 used for the first time, as it probably was in Utopia, must 
 have been drawn from so deep a sense of the value of sin- 
 cerity, as of itself to prove that he who thus employed it was 
 sincere. "These unbelievers are not allowed to argue 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 27 
 
 before the common people ; but they are suffered and 
 even encouraged to dispute in private with their priests and 
 other grave men, being confident that they will be cured 
 of these mad opinions by having reason laid before them." 
 
 It may be doubted whether some extravagances in oth- 
 er parts of Utopia were not introduced to cover such 
 passages as the above, by enabling the writer to call the 
 whole a mere sport of wit, and thus exempt him from the 
 perilous responsibility of having maintained such doctrines 
 seriously. In other cases, he seems diffidently to propose 
 opinions to which he was in some measure inclined, but 
 in the course of his statement to have heated himself into 
 an indignation against the vices and corruptions of Europe, 
 which vents itself in eloquent invectives not unworthy of 
 Gulliver. He makes Hythloday at last declare, — " As I 
 hope for mercy, I can have no other notion of all the other 
 governments that I see or know, but that they are a con- 
 spiracy of the richer sort, who, on pretence of managing 
 the public, do only pursue their private ends." The true 
 notion of Utopia is, however, that it intimates a variety of 
 doctrines, and exhibits a multiplicity of projects, which the 
 writer regards with almost every possible degree of appro- 
 bation and shade of assent ; from the frontiers of serious 
 and entire belief, through gradations of descending plausi- 
 sibility, where the lowest are scarcely more than tJie exer- 
 cises of ingenuity, and to which some wild paradoxes are 
 appended, either as a vehicle, or as an easy means (if neces- 
 sary) of disavowing the serious intention of the whole of 
 this Platonic fiction. 
 
 It must be owned, that though one class of More's suc- 
 cessors were more susceptible of judicious admiration of 
 the beauties of Plato and Cicero than his less perfectly 
 formed taste could be, and though another division of them 
 had acquired a knowledge of the words of the Greek 
 language, and perception of their force and distinctions, 
 for the attainment of which More came too early into the 
 world, yet none would have been so heartily welcomed by 
 the masters of the Lyceum and the Academy, as qualified to 
 take a part in the discussion of those grave and lofty themes 
 which were freely agitated in these early nurseries of 
 human reason. 
 
 About the time of More's first journey to the continent, 
 in the summer of 1514, not long after which Utopia 
 was composed, rfiay be placed the happiest period of his 
 life. He acquired an income equivalent to four or five 
 thousand pounds sterling of our present money, by his own 
 
98 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 independent industry and well-earned character. He had 
 leisure for the cultivation of literature, for correspondence 
 with his friend Erasmus, for keeping up an intercourse 
 with European men of letters, who had already placed him 
 in their first class, and for the composition of works, from 
 which, unaware of the rapid changes which were to ensue, 
 he probably promised himself more fame, or at least more 
 popularity, than they have procured for him. His affec- 
 tions and his temper continued to ensure the happiness of 
 his home, even when his son with a wife, three daughters 
 with their husbands, and a proportionable number of 
 grandchildren, dwelt under his patriarchal roof. 
 
 At the same period the general progress of European 
 literature, the cheerful prospects of improved education 
 and diffused knowledge, had filled the minds of More and 
 Erasmus with delight. The expectation of an age of pa- 
 cific improvement seems to have prevailed among studious 
 men in the twenty years which elapsed between the mi- 
 gration of classical learning across the Alps, and the rise 
 of the religious dissensions stirred up by the preaching of 
 Luther. " I foresee," says More's colleague on his Flemish 
 mission, " that our posterity will rival the ancients in every 
 sort of study ; and if they be not ungrateful, they will pay 
 the greatest thanks to those who have revived these studies. 
 Go on, and deserve well of posterity, who will never suffer 
 the name of Erasmus to perish."* Erasmus himself, two 
 years after, expresses the same hopes, which, with unwonted 
 courtesy, he chooses to found on the literary character of the 
 conversation in the palace of Henry VHI. ; — " The world is 
 recovering the use of its senses, like one awakened from tlie 
 deepest sleep ; and yet there are some who cling to their old 
 ignorance with their hands and feet, and will not suffer them- 
 selves to be torn from it."f To Wolsey he speaks in still 
 more sanguine language, mixed with the like personal 
 compliment : — " I see another golden age arising, if other 
 rulers be animated by your spirit. Nor will posterity be 
 ungrateful. This new felicity, obtained for the world by 
 you, will be commemorated in immortal monuments by 
 Grecian and Roman eloquence."! Though the judg- 
 ment of posterity in favor of kings and cardinals is thus 
 confidently foretold, the writers do not the less betray 
 their hope of a better age, which will bestow the highest 
 honors on the promoters of knowledge. A better age was, 
 
 ♦ Tomtal. Erasm. 14th of 8ept. 1517. Erasm. 0pp. iii. p. 267. 
 
 f Tonstal. EraMiu. iJ7. EraHin. Henric. Guildeford, 15th of May, 1319 
 
 X lb. 322. Thomas Card. Erasm. Rot. 18th of May, 1518. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 29 
 
 in truth, to come ; but the time and circumstances of its 
 appearance did not correspond to their sanguine hopes. 
 An age of iron was to precede, in which the turbulence of 
 reformation and the obstinacy of establishment were to 
 meet in long and bloody contest. 
 
 When the storm seemed ready to break out, Erasmus 
 thought it his duty to incur the obloquy which always at- 
 tends mediatorial counsels. " You know the character of 
 the Germans, who are more easily led than driven. Great 
 danger may arise, if the native ferocity of that people be 
 exasperated by untimely severities. We see the pertina- 
 city of Bohemia and the neighboring provinces. A bloody 
 policy has been tried without success. Other remedies 
 must be employed. The hatred of Rome is fixed in the 
 minds of many nations, chiefly from the rumors believed 
 of the dissolute manners of that city, and from the immo- 
 ralities of the representatives of the supreme pontiff 
 abroad."* 
 
 The uncharitableness, the turbulence, the hatred, the 
 bloodshed, which followed the preaching of Luther, closed 
 the bright visions of the two illustrious friends, who agreed 
 in an ardent love of peace, though not without a difference 
 in the shades and modifications of their pacific temper, 
 arising from some dissimilarity of original character. The 
 tender heart of More clung more strongly to the religion 
 of his youth. Erasmus more apprehended disturbance of 
 his tastes and pursuits, and betrays in some of his writings 
 a temper, which might have led him to doubt whether the 
 glimmering of probability, to which More is limited, be 
 equivalent to the evils attendant on the search. 
 
 The public life of More began in the summer of 1514,f 
 with a mission to Bruges, in which Tunstall, then mas- 
 ter of the rolls, and afterwards bishop of Durham, was his 
 colleague, of which the object was to settle some partic- 
 ulars relating to the commercial intercourse of England 
 with the Netherlands. He was consoled, for a detention 
 unexpectedly long, by the company of Tunstall, whom ho 
 describes as one not only fraught with all learning, and 
 severe in his life and morals, but inferior to no man as a 
 delightful companion.}: On this mission he became ac- 
 quainted with several of the friends of Erasmus in Flan- 
 
 ♦ Tonatal. Erasm. 590. Pentinger. Cologne, 9th of November, 1520. To 
 this theory neither of the parties about to contend could have assented; 
 but it is not on that account the less likely to be in a great measure true. 
 
 t Erasm. Pctro Algidio. Lond. 7th of May, 1514. 0pp. iii. 135. Records 
 of the Common Council of London. 
 
 I Moras Erasmo, ^Oth April, 1516. 
 
 3* 
 
30 BRITISH STATESMEN-. 
 
 der3, where he evidenOy saw a progress in accommoda- 
 tions and ornaments of life, to which he had been hitherto 
 a stranger. With Peter Giles of Antwerp, to whom he 
 intrusted the publication of Utopia by a prefatory dedica- 
 tion, he continued to be closely connected during the lives 
 of both. In the year 1515, he was sent again to the 
 Netherlands on the like mission. The intricate relations 
 of traffic between the two countries had given rise to a 
 succession of disputes, in which the determination of one 
 case generally produced new suits. As More had, in the 
 year 1510,* been elected sub-sheriff of London, he obtained 
 leave of absence from the mayor and aldermen of that city, 
 " on occasion of both these missions, to go upon the king's 
 ambasset to Flanders."f 
 
 In the beginning of 1516 he was made a privy-council- 
 lor ; and from that time may be dated the final surrender 
 of his own tastes for domestic life, and his predilections 
 for studious leisure, to the flattering importunities of Henry 
 VIII. " He had resolved," says Erasmus, " to be content 
 with his private station ; but having gone on more than 
 one mission abroad, the king, not discouraged by the 
 unusual refusal of a pension, did not rest till he had drawn 
 More into the palace. For why should I not say ' draum^^ 
 since no man ever labored with more industry for admis- 
 sion to a court, than More to avoid it ? The king would 
 scarcely ever suffer the philosopher to quit him. For if 
 serious affairs were to be considered, who could give more 
 prudent counsel? or if the king's mind was to be relaxed 
 by cheerful conversation, where could there be a more 
 facetious companion ?"| 
 
 Roper, who was an eye-witness of these circumstances, 
 relates them with an agreeable simplicity. " So from time 
 to tune was he by the king advanced, continuing in his 
 singular favor and trusty service for twenty years. A 
 good part thereof used the king, upon holidays, when he 
 had done his own devotion, to send for him ; and there, 
 sometimes in matters of astronomy, geometry, divinity, 
 and such other faculties, and sometimes on his worldly af- 
 fairs, to converse with him. And other whiles in the night 
 would he have him up into the leads, there to consider 
 with him the diversities, courses, motions, and operations 
 of the stars and planets. And because he was of a pleas- 
 
 * City Records, 3d Sept. 1510, in room of Richard Brooke, a 
 recorder, perhapx the autiior of the well-known Abridgment of the 
 t City Records, May 1514, and May 1515. 
 X Erasm. Hutt. 23d of July, 1519. Opp. iii. p. G28. 
 
 ppointed 
 
 liHW. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 31 
 
 ant disposition, it pleased the king and queen, after the 
 council had supped at the time of tlieir own (i. c. the royal) 
 supper, to call for him to be merry with them." What 
 Roper adds could not have been discovered by a less near 
 observer, and would scarcely be credited upon less author- 
 ity : " When, then, he perceived so much in his talk to 
 delight, that he could not once in a month get leave to go 
 home to his wife and children (whose company he most 
 desired), he, much misliking this restraint on his liberty, 
 began thereupon somewhat to dissemble his nature, and 
 so by little and little from his former mirth to disuse him- 
 self, that he was of them from thenceforth, at such seasons, 
 no more so ordinarily sent for."* To his retirement at 
 Chelsea, however, the king followed him. " He used of a 
 particular love to come of a sudden to Chelsea, and lean- 
 ing on his shoulder, to talk with him of secret counsel in 
 his garden, yea, and to dine with him upon no inviting."f 
 The taste for More's conversation, and the eagerness for 
 his company thus displayed, would be creditable to the 
 king, if his behavior in after time had not converted them 
 into the strongest proofs of utter depravity. Even in 
 Henry's favor there was somewhat tyrannical, and his very 
 friendship was dictatorial and self-willed. It was reserved 
 for Henry afterwards to exhibit the singular, and perhaps 
 solitary, example of a man who was softened by no recol- 
 lection of a communion of counsels, of studies, of amuse- 
 ments, of social pleasures, and who did not consider that 
 the remembrance of intimate friendship with such a man 
 as More bound him to the observance of common humanity, 
 or even of bare justice. In the moments of Henry's par- 
 tiality, the sagacity of More was not so utterly blinded by 
 his good-nature, that he did not in some degree penetrate 
 into the true character of caresses from a beast of prey. 
 "When I saw the king walking with him for an hour, 
 holding his arm about liis neck, I rejoiced, and said to sir 
 Thomas, how happy he was whom the king had so familiar- 
 ly entertained, as I had never seen him to do to any one be- 
 fore, except cardinal Wolsey. 'I thank our Lord, son,' 
 said he, ' I find his grace my very good lord indeed, and I 
 believe he doth as singularly favor me as any other sub- 
 ject within this realm : howbeit, son Roper, I may tell thee, 
 I have no cause to be proud thereof; for if my head would 
 v/in him a castle in France, when there was war between 
 us, it should not fail to go.' " X 
 
 * Roper, 12. t More's Life of Sir T. More, p. 49. 
 
 X Roper, 21, 22. Compare this insight into Henry's character with a deo- 
 
32 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Utopia, composed in 1516, was printed incorrectly, per- 
 haps clandestinely, at Paris. Erasmus's friend and printer, 
 Froben, brought out an exact edition at Basle in 1518, 
 which was retarded by the expectation of a preface from 
 Budd^ or Buddseus, the restorer of Greek learning in 
 France, and probably the most critical scholar in that 
 province of literature on the north of the Alps. It was 
 received with loud applause by the scholars of France and 
 Germany. Erasmus confidently observed to an intimate 
 friend, that the second book having been written before 
 the first, had occasioned some disorder and inequality 
 of style; but he particularly praised its novelty and 
 originality, and its keen satire on the vices and absurdities 
 of Europe. 
 
 So important was the office of under-sheriff then held 
 to be, that More did not resign it till the 23d of July, 
 1519,* though he had in the intermediate time served the 
 public in stations of trust and honor. In 1521 he was 
 knighted, and raised to the office of treasurer of the 
 exchequer,f a station in some respects the same with 
 that of chancellor of the exchequer, who at present 
 is on his appointment to be designated by the ad- 
 ditional name of under-treasurer of the exchequer. It is 
 a minute, but somewhat remarkable, stroke in the picture 
 of manners, that the honor of knighthood should be spoken 
 of by Erasmus, if not as of superior dignity to so impor- 
 tant an office, at least as observably adding to its conse- 
 quence. 
 
 From 1517 to 1522, More was employed at various times 
 at Bruges, in missions like his first to the Flemish govern- 
 ment, or at Calais in watching and conciliating Francis I., 
 with whom Henry and Wolsey long thought it convenient 
 to keep up friendly appearances. To trace the date of 
 More's reluctant journeys in the course of the uninterest- 
 ing attempts of politicians on both sides to gain or dupe 
 
 laration of an opposite nature, though borrowed also from castles and 
 towns, made by Charles V. when ho heard of More's murder. 
 
 * City Records. 
 
 t Est quod Moro gratuleris, nam Rex ilium nee ambienUm nee fiagitantem 
 raunere magnifico honestavit addito salario noquaquam penitendo, est enim 
 principi huo u thesauris. Nee hoc contentus, equitis aurati dignitatem ad- 
 jecit.— £rrt.sm. Budd. 1521. Opp. iii. 378. 
 
 " Then died master Weston, treasurer of the exchequer, whose office the 
 king of his own aceord, vnthout any asking, freely gave unto sir Thomas 
 3Iore."— /iopcr, 13. 
 
 The minute verbal coincidences which often occur between Erasmus and 
 Roper, cannot be explained otherwise than by the probable supposition, that 
 copies or originals of the correspondence between More and Erasmus wer« 
 preserved by Ropor after the death of the former. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 3^ 
 
 each otlier, would be vain, without some outline of the nego- 
 tiations in which he was employed, and repulsive to most 
 readers if the inquiry promised a better chance of a suc- 
 cessful result. Wolsey appears to have occEisionally ap- 
 pointed commissioners to conduct his own affairs as well 
 as those of his master at Calais, where they received 
 instructions from London with the greatest rapidity, and 
 whence it was easy to manage negotiations, and to shift 
 them speedily, with Brussels and Paris ; with the addition- 
 al advantage, that it might be somewhat easier to conceal 
 from one of those jealous courts the secret dealings of that 
 of England with the other, than if the despatches had been 
 sent directly from London to the place of their destination. 
 Of this commission More was once at least an unwilling 
 member. Erasmus, in a letter to Peter Giles on the 15th 
 of November, 1518, says, " More is still at Calais, of which 
 he is heartily tired. He lives with great expense, and is 
 engaged in business most odious to him. Such are the 
 rewards reserved by kings for their favorites."* Two 
 years after. More writes more bitterly to Erasmus, of hia 
 own residence and occupations. " I approve your deter- 
 mination never to be involved in the busy trifling of 
 princes ; from which, as you love me, you must wish that 
 I were extricated. You cannot imagine how painfully I 
 feel myself plunged in them, for nothing can be more 
 odious to me than this legation. I am here banished to a 
 petty seaport, of which the air and the earth are equally 
 disagreeable to me. Abhorrent as I am by nature from 
 strife, even when it is profitable as at home, you may 
 judge how wearisome it is here where it is attended by 
 loss."! On More's journey in summer 1519, he had har- 
 bored hopes of being consoled by seeing Erasmus at Ca- 
 lais, for all the tiresome pageantry, selfish scuffles, and 
 paltry frauds, which he was to witness at the congress 
 of kings,J where More could find little to abate 3iose 
 splenetic views of courts, which his disappointed benevo- 
 lence breathed in Utopia. In 1521, Wolsey twice visit- 
 ed Calais during the residence of More, who appears to 
 have then had a weight in council, and a place in the royal 
 favor, second only to those of the cardinal. 
 
 In 1523,§ a parliament was held in the middle of April 
 
 * Erasm. Opp. iii. 357. 
 
 t Erasm. Opp. iii. 589. 
 
 j Opp. iii. 450. Morus Erasmo, e Cantuaria, 11 Jun. 15J9. From the 
 dates of the following letters of Erasmus, it appears that the hopes of Moro 
 were disappointed. 
 
 ^14 Hen. VIII. 
 
34 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 at Westminster, in which l^^ore took a part honorable to 
 his memory, which has been already mentioned as one of 
 the remaining fragments of his eloquence, but which can- 
 not be so shortly passed over here, because it was one of 
 those signal acts of his life which must bear on it the 
 stamp of his character. Sir John More, his father, in spite 
 of very advanced age, was named at the beginning of 
 this parliament one of " the triers of petitions from Gas- 
 cogny," an office of which the duties had become nomi- 
 nal, but which still retained its ancient dignity. Sir 
 Thomas More was chosen by the house of commons 
 to be their speaker. He excused himself, as usual, 
 on the ground of alleged disability. His excuse was 
 justly pronounced to be inadmissible. The journals 
 of parliament are lost, or at least have not been printed. 
 The rolls of parliament exhibit only a short account 
 of what occurred, which is necessarily an unsatis- 
 factory substitute for the deficient journals. But. as the 
 matter personally concerns sir Thomas More, and as the 
 account of it given by his son-in-law, then an inmate in 
 his house, agrees with the abridgment of the rolls, as far 
 as the latter goes, it has been thought proper in this place 
 to insert the very words of Roper's narrative. It may be 
 reasonably conjectured that the speeches of More were 
 copied from his manuscript by his pious son-in-law.* — 
 " Sith I perceive, most redoubted sovereign, that it stand- 
 eth not with your pleasure to reform this election, and 
 cause it to be changed, but have, by the mouth of the most 
 reverend father in God the legate, your highness's chan- 
 cellor, thereunto given your most royal assent, and have 
 of your benignity determined far above that I may bear 
 for this office to repute me meet, rather than that you 
 should seem to impute unto your commons that they had 
 unmeetly chosen, I am ready obediently to conform my- 
 self to the accomplishment of your highness's pleasure 
 and commandment. In most humble wise I beseech your 
 majesty that I may make to you two lowly petitions ; the 
 one privately concerning myself, the other the whole as- 
 sembly of your commons' house. For myself, most gra- 
 cious sovereign, that if it mishap me in any thing hereaf- 
 
 '*' This conjecture is almost raised above that name by what precedes. 
 " Sir Thomas More made an oration, not now extant, to the king's high- 
 ness, for his dischareo from the speakership, whereunto when the king 
 would not consent, the speaker spoke to his grace in form following." — 
 It cannot be doubted, without iniustice to the honest and amiable biogra- 
 pher, that he would have his readers to understand that the original of the 
 speeches, which actually follow, were extant in his hands. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 35 
 
 ter, that is, on the behalf of your commons in your high 
 presence to be declared, to mistake my message, and in 
 lack of good utterance by my inishearsal to prevent or 
 impair their prudent instructions, that it may then like 
 your most noble majesty to give me leave to repair again 
 unto the commons' house, and to confer with them and 
 take their advice what things I shall on their behalf utter 
 and speak before your royal grace. 
 
 " Mine other humble request, most excellent prince, is 
 this ; forasmuch as there be of your commons here by 
 your high commandment assembled for your parliament, 
 a great number which are after the accustomed manner 
 appointed in the commons' house to heal and advise of 
 the common affairs among themselves apart ; and albeit, 
 most dear liege lord, that according to your most prudent 
 advice, by your honorable writs every where declared, 
 there hath been as due diligence used in sending up to 
 your highness's court of parliament the most discreet 
 persons out of every quarter that men could esteem meet 
 thereunto. Whereby it is not to be doubted but that there 
 is a very substantial assembly of right wise, meet, and pol- 
 itique persons ; yet, most victorious prince, sith among so 
 many wise men, neither is every man wise alike, nor among 
 so many alike well witted, every man well spoken ; and it 
 often happeth that as much folly is uttered with painted 
 polished speech, so many boisterous and rude in language 
 give right substantial counsel ; and sith also in matters of 
 great importance, the mind is often so occupied in the 
 matter, that a man rather studieth what to say than how ; 
 by reason whereof the wisest man and best spoken in a 
 whole country fortuneth, when his mind is fervent in the 
 matter, somewhat to speak in such wise as he would after- 
 wards wish to have been uttered otherwise, and yet no 
 worse will had when he spake it than he had when he 
 would so gladly change it. Therefore, most gracious 
 sovereign, considering that in your high court of parlia- 
 ment is nothing treated but matter of weight and impor- 
 tance concerning your realm, and your own royal estate, 
 it could not fail to put to silence from the giving of their 
 advice and counsel many of your discreet commons, to 
 the great hindrance of your common affairs, unless every 
 one of your commons were utterly discharged from all 
 doubt and fear how any thing that it should happen them 
 to speak, should happen of your highness to be taken. 
 And in this point, though your well-known and proved 
 benignity putteth every man in good hope ; yet such is 
 
36 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 the weight of tlie matter, such is the reverend dread tliat 
 the timorous hearts of your natural subjects conceive to- 
 wards your highness, our most redoubted king and un- 
 doubted sovereign, that they cannot in tliis point find 
 themselves satisfied, except your gracious bounty therein 
 declared put away the scruple of their timorous minds, 
 and put them out of doubt. It may therefore like your 
 most abundant grace to give to all your commons here 
 assembled your most gracious licence and pardon freely, 
 without doubt of your dreadful displeasure, every man to 
 discharge his conscience, and boldly in every thing inci- 
 dent among us to declare his advice ; and whatsoever hap- 
 peneth any man to say, that it may like your noble majesty, 
 of your inestimable goodness, to take all in good part, in- 
 terpreting every man's words, how uncunningly soever they 
 may be couched, to proceed yet of good zeal towards the 
 profit of your realm, and honor of your royal person ; and 
 the prosperous estate and preservation whereof, most excel- 
 lent sovereign, is the thing which we all, your majesty's 
 humble loving subjects, according to the most bounden duty 
 of our natural allegiance, most highly desire and pray for." 
 
 This speech, the substance of which is in the rolls de- 
 nominated the protest, is conformable to former usage, and 
 the model of speeches made since that time in the like 
 circumstances. What follows is more singular, and not 
 easily reconciled with the intimate connection then sub- 
 sisting between the speaker and the government, espe- 
 cially with the cardinal : — 
 
 "At this parliament cardinal Wolsey found himself 
 much aggrieved with the burgesses thereof; for that noth- 
 ing was so soon done or spoken therein, but that it was 
 immediately blown abroad in every alehouse. It fortuned 
 at that parliament a very great subsidy to be demanded, 
 which the cardinal, fearing would not pass the commons' 
 house, determined, for the furtherance thereof, to be there 
 present himself. Before where coming, after long de- 
 bating there, whether it was better but with a few of his 
 lords, as the most opinion of the house'was, or with his whole 
 train royally to receive him ; ' Masters,' quoth sir Thomas 
 More, ' forasmuch as my lord cardinal lately, ye wot well, 
 laid to our charge the lightness of our tongues for things 
 uttered out of this house, it shall not in my mind be amiss 
 to receive him with all his pomp, with his maces, his pil- 
 lars, his poll-axes, his hat, and great seal too ; to the intent, 
 that if he find the like fault with us hereafter, we may be 
 the bolder from ourselves to lay the blame on those whom 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 37 
 
 his grace bringeth here with him.' Whereunto the house 
 wholly agreeing, he was received accordingly. Where 
 after he had by a solemn oration, by many reasons, proved 
 how necessary it was the demand then moved to be 
 granted, and farther showed that less would not serve to 
 maintain the prince's purpose ; he seeing the company 
 sitting still silent, and thereunto nothing answering, and, 
 contrary to his expectation, showing in themselves towards 
 his request no towardness of inclination, said to them, 
 ' Masters, you have many wise and learned men amongst 
 you, and sith I am from the king's own person sent hitherto 
 unto you, to the preservation of yourselves and of all the 
 realm, I think it meet you give me some reasonable an- 
 swer. Whereat every man holding his peace, then began 
 to speak to one master Marney, afterwards lord Marney ; 
 ' How say you,' quoth he, ' master Marney ?' who making 
 him no answer neither, he severally asked the same ques- 
 tion of divers others, accounted the wisest of the company ; 
 to whom, when none of them all would give so much as 
 one word, being agreed before, as the custom was to give 
 answer by their speaker ; ' Masters,' quoth the cardinal, 
 * unless it be the manner of your house, as of likelihood it 
 is, by the mouth of your speaker, whom you have chosen 
 for trusty and wise (as indeed he is), in such cases to utter 
 your minds, here is, without doubt, a marvellously obstinate 
 silence : and thereupon he required answer of Mr. Speak- 
 er ; who first reverently, on his knees, excusing the silence 
 of the house, abashed at the presence of so noble a per- 
 sonage, able to amaze the wisest and best learned in a 
 realm, and then, by many probable arguments, proving 
 that for them to make answer was neither expedient nor 
 agreeable with the ancient liberty of the house ; in conclu- 
 sion for himself, showed, that though they had all with 
 their voices trusted him, yet except every one of them 
 could put into his own head their several wits, he alone in 
 so weighty a matter was unmeet to make his grace an- 
 swer. Whereupon the cardinal, displeased with sir 
 Thomas More, that had not in this parliament in all things 
 satisfied his desire, suddenly arose and departed."* 
 
 This passage deserves attention as a specimen of the 
 mild independence and quiet steadiness of More's charac- 
 ter, and also as a proof how he perceived the strength 
 which the commons had gained by the power of the 
 purse, which was daily and silently growing, and which 
 
 * Roper, p. 13—21. 
 VOL. I. 4 
 
38 fiRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 could be disturbed only by such an unseasonable show of 
 an immature authority as might too soon have roused the 
 crown to resistance. It is one among many instances of 
 the progress of the influence of parliaments in the midst 
 of their apparently indiscriminate submission, and it affords 
 a pregnant proof that we must not estimate the spirit of 
 our forefathers by the humility of their demeanor. 
 
 The reader will obsei-ve how nearly the example of 
 More was followed by a succeeding speaker, comparatively 
 of no distinction, but in circumstances far more memorable, 
 in the answer of Lenthall to Charles I., when that unfor- 
 tunate prince came to the house of commons to arrest five 
 leading members of that assembly, who had incurred his 
 displeasure. 
 
 There is another point from which these early reports 
 of parliamentary speeches may be viewed, and from which 
 it is curious to consider them. They belong to that criti- 
 cal moment in the history of our language when it was 
 forming a prose style, — a written diction adapted to grave 
 and important occasions. In the passage just quoted, 
 there are about twenty words and phrases (some of them, 
 it is true, used more than once) which would not now be 
 employed. Some of them are shades, such as " lowly," 
 where we say " humble ;" " company," for " a house of 
 parliament ;" " simpleness," for " simplicity," with a deeper 
 tinge of folly than the single word now ever has ; " right," 
 then used as a general sign of the superlative, where we 
 say " very," or " most ;" " reverend," for " reverent," or 
 " reverential." " If it mishap me," if it should so happen, 
 "to mishap in me," "-it often happeth," are instances of 
 the employment of the verb " hap " for happen, or of a 
 conjugation of the former, which has fallen into irrecover- 
 able disuse. A phrase was then so frequent as to become, 
 indeed, the established mode of commencing an address 
 to a superior, in which the old usage was, " It may like," 
 or " It may please your Majesty," where modern language 
 absolutely requires us to say, "May it please," by a slight 
 inversion of the words retained, but witli the exclusion of 
 the word " like " in that combination. " Let " is used for 
 " hinder," as is still the case in some public forms, and in 
 the excellent version of the Scriptures. "Well witted" 
 is a happy phrase lost to the language except on familiar 
 occasions with a smile, or by a master in the art of com- 
 bining words. Perhaps "enable me," for "give me by 
 your countenance the ability which I have not," is the 
 only phrase which savors of awkwardness or of harsh effect 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 39 
 
 in the excellent speaker. The whole passage is a remark- 
 able example of tlie almost imperceptible differences which 
 mark various stages in the progress of a language. In 
 several of the above instances, we see a sort of contest for 
 admission into the language between two phrases ex- 
 tremely similar, and yet a victory which excluded one of 
 them as rigidly as if the distinction had been very wide. 
 Every case where subsequent usage has altered or re- 
 jected words or phrases must be regarded as a sort of 
 national verdict, which is necessarily followed by their 
 disfranchisement. They have no longer any claim on the 
 English language, other than that which may be possessed 
 by all alien suppliants for naturalization. Such examples 
 should warn a writer, desirous to be lastingly read, of the 
 danger which attends new words, or very new accepta- 
 tions of those which are established, or even of attempts 
 to revive those which are altogether superannuated. They 
 show in the clearest light that the learned and the vulgar 
 parts of language, being those which are most liable to 
 change, are unfit materials for a durable style, and they 
 teach us to look to those words which form the far larger 
 portion of ancient as well as of modern language, that 
 " well of English undefiled," which has been happily re- 
 sorted to from More to Cowper, as being proved by the 
 unimpeachable evidence of that long usage to fit the rest 
 of our speech more perfectly, and to flow more easily, 
 clearly, and sweetly, in our composition. 
 
 Erasmus tells us that Wolsey rather feared than liked 
 More. When the short session of parliament was closed, 
 Wolsey, in his gallery of Whitehall, said to More, " I 
 wish to God you had been at Rome, Mr. More, when 
 I made you speaker." — " Your grace not offended, so 
 would I too, my lord," replied sir Thomas ; " for then 
 should I have seen the place I long have desired to visit."* 
 More turned the conversation by saying that he liked this 
 gallery better than the cardinal's at Hampton Court. But 
 the cardinal secretly brooded over his revenge, which he 
 tried to gratify by banishing More, tinder the name of an 
 ambassador to Spain. He tried to effect his purpose by 
 magnifying the learning and wisdom of More, his peculiar 
 fitness for a conciliatory adjustment of the difficult matters 
 which were at issue between the king and his kinsman 
 the emperor. The king suggested this proposal to More, 
 who, considering the unsuitableness of the Spanish climate 
 
 * Roper, p. 20. 
 
40 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 to his constitution, and perhaps suspecting Wolsey of 
 sinister purposes, earnestly besought Henry not to send 
 his faithful servant to his grave. The king, who also sus- 
 pected Wolsey of being actuated by jealousy, answered, 
 " It is not our meaning, Mr. More, to do you any hurt ; but 
 to do you good we should be glad. We shall therefore 
 employ you otherwise."* Sir Thomas More could boast 
 that he had never asked the king the value of a penny 
 for himself. On the 2oth of December, 1525,f the king 
 appointed him chancellor of the duchy of Lancaster, as 
 successor of sir Anthony Wingfield ; an office of dignity 
 and profit which More continued to hold for nearly three 
 years. 
 
 In the sunmier of 1527, Wolsey went on his magnifi- 
 cent embassy to France, in which More and other officers 
 of state were joined with him. On this occasion the main, 
 though secret object of Henry was to pave the way for a 
 divorce from queen Catharine, with a view to a marriage 
 with Anne Boleyn, a young beauty who had been bred at 
 the French court, where her father, sir Thomas Boleyn, 
 created earl of Wiltshire, had been repeatedly ambassador. 
 
 On their journey to the coast, Wolsey sounded arch- 
 bishop Wareham and bishop Fisher on the important 
 secret with which he was intrusted. Wareham, an esti- 
 mable and amiable prelate, appears to have intimated that 
 his opinion was favorable to Henry's pursuit of a divorce.J 
 Fisher, bishop of Rochester, an aged and upright man, 
 promised Wolsey that he should do or say nothing in the 
 matter, nor in any way counsel the queen, except what 
 stood with Henry's pleasure ; " for," said he, " though she 
 be queen of this realm, yet he acknowledgeth you to be 
 his sovereign lord :"§ as if the rank or authority of the 
 parties had any concern with the duty of honestly giving 
 
 * More, p. 53. with a small variation. 
 
 t Such is the information which I have received from the Records in the 
 Tower. The accurate writer of the article on More, in the Biographia 
 Britannica, is perplexed by finding sir Thomas More, chancellor of the 
 duchy, as one of the negotiators of a treaty in August, 1526, which seems 
 to the writer in the Biographia to bring down the death of Wingfield to 
 near that time : ho being on all sides acknowledged to bo Moro's immediate 
 predecessor. But there is no difficulty, unless we needlessly assume that 
 the negotiation with which Wingfield was concerned related to the same 
 treaty which More concluded. On the contrary, the first appears to have 
 been a treaty with Spain ; the last a treaty with France. 
 
 X State Papers, Hen. VIII. vol. i. p. 196. 5th July, 1527. Wolsey's words 
 are, — " He expressly affirmed, that however displeasantly the queen took 
 this matter, vet the truth and judgment of the law must take place. I have 
 instructed him how he shall order himself if the queen shall demand his 
 counsel, which he promises me to follow." 
 
 $ State Papers, Hen. VIII. vol. i. p. 168. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 41 
 
 counsel where it is given at all. The overbearing deport- 
 ment of Wolsey probably overawed both these good 
 prelates. Wolsey understood them in the manner most 
 suitable to his purpose ; and, confident that he should by 
 some means finally gain them, he probably colored very 
 highly their language in his communication to Henry, 
 whom he had just before displeased by unexpected scru- 
 ples. But as there are no traces known to us of an active 
 part taken by More in this negotiation, it is proper to re- 
 turn to what concerned him more nearly. It Avas gener- 
 ally believed that More and Fisher had corrected the 
 manuscript of Henry's answer to Luther. It is certain 
 that the propensity of the king to theological discussions 
 constituted one of the links of his intimacy with More. 
 
 As More's writings against the Lutherans were of great 
 note in his own time, as they were probably those of his 
 works on which he exerted the most acuteness, and em- 
 ployed most knowledge, it would be wrong to omit all 
 mention of them in an estimate of his mind, or as proofs 
 of his disposition. They contain many anecdotes which 
 throw considerable light on our ecclesiastical history dur- 
 ing the first prosecution of Protestants, or, as they were 
 then called, Lutherans, under the old statutes against 
 Lollards, in the period which extended from 1520 to 1532 ; 
 and they do not seem to have been enough examined with 
 that view by the historians of the church. 
 
 But our concern with them is now only as they affect 
 More. Legal responsibility, in a well-constituted com- 
 monwealtli, reaches to all the avowed advisers of the gov- 
 ernment, and to all those whose concurrence is necessary 
 to the validity of its commands. But moral responsibility 
 is usually or chiefly confined to the actual authors of a 
 measure. To them general opinion allots commendation 
 or blame. It is true, that when a government has attained 
 a state of more than usual regularity, the feelings of man- 
 kind become so well adapted to it, that men are held to be 
 even morally responsible for sanctioning, by a base con- 
 tinuance in office, the bad policy which may be known not 
 to originate with themselves. These refinements were, 
 however, unknown in the reign of Henry VIII. The ad- 
 ministration was carried on under the personal direction of 
 the monarch, who generally admitted one confidential ser- 
 vant only into his most secret counsels ; and all the other 
 ministers, whatever their rank might be, commonly confined 
 their attention to the business of their own office, or to the 
 execution of special commands intrusted to them. This 
 4* 
 
42 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 system was probably carried to its utmost height under 
 so self-willed a prince as Henry, and by so domineering 
 a minister as Wolsey. Although there can be no doubt 
 that More, as a privy-counsellor, attended and cooperated 
 at the examination of the unfortunate Lutherans, his con- 
 duct in that respect was regarded by his contemporaries 
 as little more than the enforcement of orders which he 
 could not lawfully decline to obey. The opinion that 
 those who disapprove are bound to resign, is of very mod- 
 ern origin, and still not universal, especially if fidelity to 
 a party be not called in to its aid. In the time of Henry, 
 a minister was not thought even entitled to resign. The 
 fact of his attendance, indeed, appears in his controver- 
 sial writings, especially by his answer to Tyndal, printed 
 in 1532, by John Rastall, the second printer of note in 
 England, who married Elizabeth, the sister of sir Thomas. 
 It is not, equitable to treat him as effectually and morally, 
 as well as legally, answerable for measures of state, till 
 the removal of Wolsey, and the delivery of the great seal 
 into his own hands. The injustice of considering these 
 transactions in any other light appears from the circum- 
 stance, that though he was joined with Wolsey in the 
 splendid embassy to France in 1527, there is no reason 
 to suppose that More was intrusted with the secret and 
 main purpose of the embassy, — ^that of facilitating a divorce 
 and a second marriage. His responsibility, in its most 
 important and only practical part, must be contracted to 
 the short time which extends from the 25th of October, 
 1529, when he was appointed chancellor, to the 16th of 
 May, 1532, when he was removed from his office — not 
 much more than two years and a half.* Even within 
 these narrow limits, it must be remembered, that he found 
 the system of persecution established, and its machinery 
 in a state of activity. The prelates, like most other pre- 
 lates in Europe, did their part in convicting the Protestants 
 of LoUardy in the spiritual courts, who were the compe- 
 tent judges of that offence. Our means of determining 
 what executions for Lollardy (if any) took place when 
 More had a decisive ascendant in the royal councils, are 
 very imperfect. If it were certain that he was the adviser 
 of such executions, it would only follow that he executed 
 one part of the criminal law, witliout approving it, as suc- 
 ceeding judges have certainly done in cases of fraud and 
 theft, where they no more approved the punishment of 
 
 * Inforniation from Records in the Tower. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 43 
 
 death than the author of Utopia might have done in its 
 application to heresy. If the progress of civilization be 
 not checked, we seem not far from the period when such 
 capital punishments will appear as little consistent with 
 humanity, and indeed with justice, as the burning of her- 
 etics now appears to us. More himself deprecates an 
 appeal to his writings and those of his friend Erasmus, 
 innocently intended by them, but abused by incendiaries, 
 to inflame the fury of the ignorant multitude.* " Men," 
 says he (alluding evidently to Utopia), "cannot almost 
 now speak of such things insomuch as in play, but that 
 such evil hearers were a great deal the worse." — "I 
 would not now translate the Moria of Ersismus, even some 
 works that I myself have written ere this, into English, 
 albeit there be none harm therein." It is evident that the 
 two philosophers, who found all their fair visions dispelled 
 by noise and violence, deeply felt the injustice of citing 
 against them, as a proof of inconsistency, that they de- 
 parted from the pleasantries, the gay dreams, at most the 
 fond speculations, of their early days, wlien they saw these 
 harmless visions turned into weapons of destruction in the 
 blood-stained hands of the boors of Saxony, and of the fe- 
 rocious fanatics of Munster. The virtuous love of peace 
 might be more prevalent in More ; the Epicurean desire 
 of personal ease predominated more in Erasmus. But 
 both were, doubtless from commendable or excusable 
 causes, incensed against those odious disciples, who now, 
 " with no friendly voice," invoked their authority against 
 themselves. 
 
 If, however, we examine the question on the grounds 
 of positive testimony, it is impossible to appeal to a wit- 
 ness of more weight than Erasmus. " It is," said he, " a 
 sufficient proof of his clemency, that while he was chan- 
 cellor, no man was put to death for these pestilent dogmas, 
 while so many have suffered capital punishment for them 
 in France, in Germany, and in the Netherlands."! The 
 only charges against him on this subject, which are ad- 
 verted to by himself, relate to minor severities ; but as 
 these may be marks of more cruelty than the infliction of 
 death, let us listen on this subject to the words of the 
 merciful and righteous man.^ 
 
 " Divers of them have said, that of such as were in my 
 house when I was chancellor, I used to examine them with 
 
 * More's Answer to Tyndal, part i. p. 123. Printed by John Raatall, 1532. 
 t Brasm. Fabio Episc. Vienn. (Vienne in Uauphine), Opp. iii. 1811- 
 t Morc'a Apology, c. 36. Etiglish Works, pp. 900, 901. edition 1557. 
 
44 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 torments, causing them to be bound to a tree in my gar- 
 den, and there piteously beaten. Except their sure keep- 
 ing, I never did else cause any such thing to be done unto 
 any of the heretics in all my life, except only twain : one 
 was a child and a servant of mine in mine own house, 
 whom his father, ere he came to me, had nursed up in such 
 matters, and set him to attend upon George Jay. This 
 Jay did teach the child his ungracious heresy- against the 
 blessed sacrament of the altar ; which heresy this child in 
 my house began to teach another child. And upon that 
 point I caused a servant of mine to strip him like a child 
 before mine household, for amendment of himself and 
 cnsample of others." — " Another was one who, after he 
 had fallen into these frantic heresies, soon fell into plain 
 open frensy : albeit that he had been in bedlam, and after- 
 wards by beating and correction gathered his remem- 
 brance ;* being therefore set at liberty, his old frensies 
 fell again into his head. Being informed of his relapse, I 
 caused him to be taken by the constables and bounden to 
 a tree in the street before the whole town, and there 
 striped him till he waxed weary. Verily, God be thanked, 
 I hear no harm of him now. And of all who ever came 
 in my hand for heresy, as help me God, else had never 
 any of them any stripe or stroke given them, so much as a 
 JUlip in the foreh€ad.^^\ 
 
 This statement, so minute, so easily confuted, if in any 
 part false, was made public after his fall from power, when he 
 was surrounded by enemies, and could have no friends but 
 the generous. It relates circumstances of public notoriety, 
 or at least so known to all his own liousehold (from which it 
 appears that Protestant servants were not excluded), which 
 it would have been rather a proof of insanity than of im- 
 prudence to have alleged in his defence, if they had not 
 been indisputably and confessedly true. Wherever he 
 touches this subject, there is a quietness and a circumstan- 
 tiality, which are among the least equivocal marks of a 
 man who adheres to the temper most favorable to the 
 truth, because he is conscious that the truth is favorable to 
 him.J Without relying, therefore, on the character of^ 
 
 * Such was then the mode of curing insanity. 
 
 t Apology, c. 36. English W^orks, n. 902. 
 
 X There is a remakable instance of this observation in More's Dialogue, 
 book iii. chap, xvi., where he tells, somewhat prolixly, tlie story of Richard 
 Dunn, who was found dead, and hanging in the Lollard's Tower. The 
 only part taken by More in this affair was his share as a privy councillor in 
 the inquiry, whether Dunn hanged himself, or was murdered and then 
 hangod uji by the bishop of London's chancellor. The evidence to prove 
 
SIR THOMAS MOKE. 45 
 
 More for probity and veracity (which it is derogatory 
 to him to employ for such a purpose), the evidence of his 
 humanity having prevailed over his opinion decisively out- 
 weighs the little positive testimony produced against him. 
 The charge against More rests originally on Fox alone, from 
 whom it is copied by Burnet, and with considerable hesi- 
 tation by Strype. But the honest raartyrologist writes too 
 inaccurately to be a weighty witness in this case ; for he 
 tells us that Firth was put to deatli in June 1533, and 
 yet imputes it to More, who had resigned his office a 
 year before. In the case of James Baynham, he only 
 says that the accused was chained to two posts for two 
 nights in More's house, at some not specified distance of 
 time before his execution. 
 
 Burnet, who had translated Utopia into English, in men- 
 tioning the extreme toleration taught in that work, truly 
 observes, that if More had died at the time of its publica- 
 tion, " he would have been reckoned among those who 
 only wanted a fit opportunity of declaring themselves 
 openly for a reformation."* The same sincere and up- 
 right writer was too zealous for an historian, when he 
 added — " When More was raised to the chief post in the 
 ministry, he became a persecutor even to blood, and de- 
 filed those hands which were never polluted with bribes." 
 In excuse for the total silence of the honest bishop re- 
 specting the opposite testimony of More himself (of whom 
 Burnet speaks even then with reverence), the reader must 
 be reminded that the third volume of the History of the 
 Reformation was written in the old age of the bishop of 
 Salisbury, thirty years after those more laborious research- 
 es, which attended the composition of the two former 
 volumes, and under the influence of those animosities 
 against the Roman Catholic church, which the con- 
 spiracy of queen Anne's last ministers against the revolu- 
 tion had revived with more than their youthful vigor. It 
 must be owned that he from the commencement acqui- 
 esced too lightly in the allegations of Fox ; and it is certain, 
 that if the fact, however deplorable, had been better 
 proved, yet in that age it would not have warranted 
 such asperity of condemnation.f 
 
 that the death could not be suicide, was as absurd as the story of the 
 bishop's chancellor was improbable. He was afterwards, however, con- 
 victed by a jury, but pardoned, it should seem rightly, by the king. 
 
 * Burnet, Hist, of Reform, iii. part i. p. 45. Lond. 1820. 
 
 f The change of opinion in Erasmus, and the less remarkable change of 
 More in the same respect, ia somewhat excused by the excesses and disor- 
 ders which followed the reformation. " To believe," says Bayle, " that the 
 
46 BRITISH feTATESMEN. 
 
 The date of the work in which More deiiies the charge, 
 and challenges his accusers to produce their proofs, would 
 have roused the attention of Burnet, if he had read it. This 
 book, entitled " The Apology of Sir Thomas More," was 
 written in 1533, " after he had given over the office of lord 
 chancellor," and when he was in daily expectation of being 
 committed to the Tower. Defenceless and obnoxious as 
 he then was, no man was hardy enough to dispute his truth. 
 Fox was the first who, thirty years afterwards, ventured to 
 oppose it in a vague statement, which we know to be in 
 some respects inaccurate ; and on this slender authority 
 alone has rested such an imputation on the veracity of the 
 most sincere of men. Whoever reads the Apology will per- 
 ceive, from tlie melancholy ingenuousness with which he 
 speaks of the growing unpopularity of his religion in the 
 court and country, that he could not have hoped to escape 
 exposure, if it had been then possible to question his dec- 
 laration.* 
 
 On the whole, then. More must not only be absolved ; 
 but, when we consider that his administration occurred 
 during a hot paroxysm of persecution ; that intolerance 
 was the creed of his age ; that he himself, in his days of 
 compliance and ambition, had been drawn over to it as a 
 theory ; that he was filled with alarm and horror by the 
 excesses of the heretical insurgents in Germany ; — we 
 must pronounce him by his. abstinence from any practical 
 share in it, to have given stronger proofs than any other 
 man, of a repugnance to that execrable practice, founded 
 on the unshaken basis of his natural humanity. 
 
 The fourth book of More's Dialoguef exhibits a lively 
 picture of the horror with which the excesses of the re- 
 formers had filled the mind of this good man, whose jus- 
 tice and even humanity were disturbed, so far at least as 
 to betray him into a bitterness of language and harshness of 
 opinion foreign from his general temper. The events them- 
 selves are, it must be owned, sufficient to provoke the meek- 
 est, to appal the firmest of men. " The temporal lords," 
 
 church required reformation, and to approve a particular manner of reform- 
 ing it, are two very different things. To blame the opponents of reforma- 
 tion, and to disapprove the conduct of the reformers, arc two things very 
 compatible. A man may then imitate Erasmus, without being an apostate 
 or a traitor."— !>«<;«. de. Bayle, ii. p. 91. art. Castellan. 
 
 These are positions too reasonable to be practically believed, at the time 
 when their adoption would be most useful. 
 
 *In the Apology, sir T. More state*) four tenths of the people as unable 
 to read ; — probably an overrated estimate of the number of readers. 
 
 t Dialogue of sir Thomas More, touching the pestilent sect of Luther, 
 composed and published when he was chancellor of the duchy of Lancaster, 
 " but newly oversene by the said sir T. More, chancellor of England," 1530 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 47 
 
 he tell us, " were glad to hear the cry against the clergy ; 
 the people were glad to hear it against the clergy and 
 the lords too. They rebelled first against an abbot, and 
 after against a bishop, wherewith the temporal lords had 
 good game and sport, and dissembled the matter, gaping 
 after the lands of the spirituality, till they had almost 
 played as ^sop telleth of the dog, which, to snatch at 
 the shadow of the cheese in the water, let fall and lost 
 the cheese which he bare in his mouth. 
 
 " The uplandish Lutherans set upon the temporal lords ; 
 they slew 70,000 Lutherans in one summer, and subdued 
 the remnant in that part of Almayne into a right miser- 
 able servitude. Of this sect was the great part* of those 
 ungracious people which of late entered Rome with the 
 duke of Bourbon." The description of the horrible crimes 
 perpetrated on that occasion is so disgusting in some of 
 its particulars, as to be unfit for the decency of historical 
 narrative. One specimen will sufl[ice, which, considering 
 the constant intercourse between England and Rome, is 
 not unlikely to have been related to More by an eye-wit- 
 ness : — " Some took children and bound them to torches, 
 and brought them gradually nearer to the fire to be roast- 
 ed, while the fathers and mothers were looking on, and 
 then began to speak of a price for the sparing of the chil- 
 dren ; asking first 100 ducats, then 50, then 40, then at 
 last offered to take twain : after they had taken the last 
 ducat from the father, then would they let the child roast to 
 death." This wickedness (More contended) was the fruit 
 of Luther's doctrine of predestination ; " for what good 
 deed can a man study or labor to do, who believeth Lu- 
 ther, that he hath no free will of his own ?" f" If the world 
 were not near an end, and the fervor of devotion almost 
 quenched, it could never have come to pass that so many 
 people should fall to the following of so beastly a sect." 
 He urges at very great length, and with great ability, the 
 tendency of belief in destiny to overthrow morality ; and 
 represents it as an opinion of which on account of its in- 
 compatibility with the order of society, the civil magistrate 
 may lawfully punish the promulgation ; little aware how 
 decisively experience was about to confute such reason- 
 ing, however specious, by the examples of nations, who, 
 though their whole religion was founded on predestination, 
 were, nevertheless, the most moral portion of mankind.! 
 
 * A violent exaggeration. t Dialogue, book iv. c. 8. 
 
 I Switzerland, Holland, Scotland, English Puritans, New England, 
 French Huguenots, Sec. 
 
48 * BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 " The fe V," says More, " of outrages and mischiefs to follow 
 upon such heresies, with the proof that men have had in some 
 countries thereof, have been the cause that princes and 
 people have been constrained to punish heresies by a 
 terrible death; whereas else more easy ways had been 
 taken with them. If the heretics had never begun with 
 violence, good Christian people had peradventure used 
 less violence against them : while they forbare violence, 
 there was little violence done unto them. ' By my soul,' 
 quoth your friend,* ' I would all the world were agreed to 
 take violence and compulsion away.' ' And sooth,' said I, 
 ' if it were so, yet would God be too strong for his ene- 
 mies.' " In answer, he faintly attempts to distinguish the 
 case of pagans, who may be tolerated, in order to induce 
 them to tolerate Christians, from that of heretics, from 
 which no such advantage was to be obtained in exchange ; 
 a distinction, however, which disappeared as soon as the 
 supposed heretics acquired supreme power. At last, how- 
 ever, he concludes with a sentence which sufficiently inti- 
 mates the inclination of his judgment, and shows that his 
 ancient opinions still prevailed in the midst of fear and 
 abhorrence. " And yet, as I said in the beginning, never 
 were they by any temporal punishment of their bodies 
 any thing sharpjy handled till they began to be violent 
 themselves." It is evident that his mind misgave him 
 when he appeared to assent to intolerance as a principle ; 
 for otherwise there was no reason for -repeatedly relying 
 on the defence of society against aggression as its justifi- 
 cation. His silence, however, respecting the notorious 
 fact, that Luther strained every nerve to suppress the 
 German insurgents, can never be excused by the sophistry 
 which ascribes to all reformers the evil done by those 
 who abuse their names. It was too much to say that 
 Luther should not have uttered what he believed to be 
 sacred and necessary truth, because evil-doers took occa- 
 sion from it to screen their bad deeds. This controversial 
 artifice, however grossly unjust, is yet so plausible and 
 popular, that perhaps no polemic ever had virtue enough 
 to resist the temptation of employing it. What other 
 controversialist can be named, who, having the power to 
 crush antagonists whom he viewed as tlie disturbers of 
 the quiet of his own declining age, the destroyers of all 
 the hopes which he had cherished for mankind, contented 
 himself with severity of language (for which he humbly 
 
 * This wish is put into the mouth of the adverse speaker in the Dialogue. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 49 
 
 excuses himself in his " Apology," in some measure a 
 dying work,) and with one instance of unfair inference 
 against opponents who were too zealous to be merciful ? 
 
 In the autumn of 1529, More returned from Cambray, 
 where he had been once more joined in commission with his 
 friend Tunstall as ambassador to the emperor. He paid a 
 visit to the court, then at Woodstock. A private letter 
 written from court to his wife, on occasion of a mishap at 
 home, which is inserted to afford a little glimpse into the 
 management of his most homely concerns, and especially as 
 a specimen of his regard for a deserving woman, who was, 
 probably, too " coarsely kind " even to have inspired him 
 with tenderness.* 
 
 " Mistress Alyce, in my most harty wUl, I recomend 
 me to you. And whereas I am enfourmed by my son 
 Heron of the loss of our barnes and our neighbours also, 
 wt all the come that was therein, albeit (saving God's 
 pleasure) it is gret pitie of so much good come lost, yet 
 sith it hath liked hym to send us such a chance, we must 
 sale bounden, not only to be content, but also to be glad 
 of his visitation. He sent us all that we have lost : and 
 sith he hath by such a chance taken it away againe, his 
 pleasure be fulfilled. Let us never grudge thereat, but 
 take it in good worth, and hartely thank him, as well for 
 adversitie, as for prosperitie. And par adventure we have 
 more cause to thank him for our losse, than for our win- 
 ning. For his wisedom better seeth what is good for us then 
 we do ourselves. Therefore I pray you be of good cheere, 
 and take all the howshold with you to church, and there 
 thank God both for that he hath given us, and for that he has 
 left us, which if it please hym, he can increase when he will. 
 And if it please him to leave us yet lesse, at hys pleasure 
 be it. I praye you to make some good ensearche what 
 my poor neighbours have loste, and bidde them take no 
 thought therefore, and if I shold not leave myself a spone, 
 there shall no poore neighbour of mine here no losse by 
 any chance happened in my house. I pray you be with 
 my children and household mery in God. And devise 
 somewhat with your friends, what way wer best to take, 
 for provision to be made for come for our household and 
 
 * In More's metrical inscription for his own monument, we find a just, 
 but long, and somewhat labored, commendation of Alice, which in tender- 
 ness IS outweighed by one word applied to the long departed companion of 
 
 •* Chara Thomte jacet hie Joanna uxorcula Mori. '^— English Works, 1490 
 VOL. I. 5 
 
50 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 for sede thys yere coming, if ye thinke it good that we 
 keepe the ground still in our handes. And whether ye think 
 it good yt we so shall do or not, yet I think it were not best 
 sodenlye thus to leave it all up, and to put away our folk of our 
 farme, till we have somewhat advised us thereon. How- 
 beit if we have more nowe than ye shall neede, and which 
 can get the other maisters, ye may then discharge us of 
 them. But I would not that any man wer sodenly sent 
 away he wote nere wether. At my coming hither, I 
 perceived none other, but that I shold tary still with the 
 kinges grace. But now I shall (I think), because of this 
 chance, get leave this next weeke to come home and se 
 you ; and then shall we further devise together uppon all 
 thinges, what order shall be best to take: and thus as 
 hartely fare you well with all our children as you can wishe. 
 At Woodstok the thirde daye of Septembre, by the hand of 
 " Your loving husband, 
 
 « Thomas More, Knight." 
 
 A new scene now opened on More, of whose private 
 life the above simple letter enables us to form no inade- 
 quate or unpleasing estimate. On the 25th of October 
 1529, sixteen days after the commencement of the pros- 
 ecution against Wolsey, the king, by delivering the great 
 seal to him at Greenwich, constituted him lord chancellor, 
 the highest dignity of the state and of the law, which 
 had been generally held by ecclesiastics.* A very sum- 
 mary account of the nature of this high office may per- 
 haps prevent some confusion respecting it among those 
 who know it only in its present state. The office of 
 chancellor was known to all the European governments, 
 who borrowed it, like many other institutions, from the 
 usage of the vanquished Romans. In those of England 
 and France, which most resembled each other, and whose 
 history is most familiar and most interesting to us,f 
 the chancellor, whose office had been a conspicuous dig- 
 nity under the lower empire, was originally a secretary who 
 derived a great part of his consequence from the trust of 
 holding the king's seal, the substitute for subscription 
 under illiterate monarchs, and the stamp of legal authori- 
 ty in more cultivated times. From his constant access 
 to the king, he acquired every where some authority in the 
 cases which were the frequent subject of complaint to tlie 
 crown. In France, he became a minister of state, with a 
 
 * Thorpe, in 1371, and Knivct, in 1372, seem to be the last exceptions, 
 t Ducanse and Spelman Gloss, in voce " Cancellarius," who give us the 
 aeries of chancellors in both countries. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 51 
 
 peculiar superintendence over courts of justice, and some re- 
 mains of a special jurisdiction, which continued till the 
 downfall of the French monarchy. In tlie English chancellor 
 were gradually united the characters of a legal magistrate 
 and a political adviser ; and since that time the office has 
 been confined to lawyers in eminent practice. He has been 
 presumed to have a due reverence for the law, as well as 
 a familiar acquaintance with it, and his presence and weight 
 in the councils of a free commonwealth have been regard- 
 ed as links which bind the state to the law. 
 
 One of the earliest branches of the chancellor's duties 
 seems, by slow degrees, to have enlarged his jurisdiction 
 to the extent which it reached in modern times.* From 
 the chancery issued those writs which first put the ma- 
 chinery of law in motion in every case where legal redress 
 existed. In that court new writs were framed, when it 
 was fit to adapt the proceedings to the circumstances of a 
 new case. When a case arose in which it appeared that 
 the course and order of the common law could hardly be 
 adapted, by any variation in the forms of procedure, to the 
 demands of justice, the complaint was laid, by the chan- 
 cellor, before the king, who commanded it to be considered 
 in council ; a practice which, by degrees, led to a reference 
 to that magistrate himself. To facilitate an equitable de- 
 termination in such complaints, the writ was devised called 
 the writ of 5u6po?n«, commanding the person complained 
 of to appear before the chancellor, and to answer the com- 
 plaint The essential words of a petition for this writ, 
 frhich in process of time has become of so great import- 
 ance, were in the reign of Richard III. as follows : 
 " Please it therefore your lordship, — considering that your 
 orator has no remedy by course of the common law, — to 
 grant a writ subpmna, commanding T. Coke to appear in 
 chancery, at a certain day, and upon a certain pain to be 
 limited by you, and then to do what by this court shall be 
 thought reasonable and according to conscience." The 
 form was not materially different in the earliest instances, 
 which appear to have occurred from 1380 to 1400. It ap- 
 pears that this device was not first employed to enforce 
 the observance of the duties of trustees who held lands, 
 as has been hitherto supposed,f but for cases of an ex- 
 tremely different nature, where the failure of justice in the 
 ordinary courts might ensue, not from any defect in the 
 
 * " Non facile est dii^ito monstrare quibus gradibus, sed conjecturam ac- 
 •ipe." — Spel. in voc. Cancellarius. 
 f Blackatone, book iii. c. 4. 
 
52 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 common law, but from the power of turbulent barons, 
 who, in their acts of outrage and lawless violence, bade 
 defiance to all ordinary jurisdiction.* In some of the ear- 
 liest cases, we find a statement of the age and poverty of 
 the complainant, and of the power, and even learning, of 
 the supposed wrong-doer ; topics addressed to compassion, 
 or at most to equity in a very loose and popular sense of 
 the word, which throw light on the original nature of this 
 high jurisdiction. It is apparent, from the earliest cases 
 in the reign of Richard II., that the occasional relief pro- 
 ceeding from mixed feelings of pity and of regard to sub- 
 stantial justice, not effectually aided by law, or overpow- 
 ered by tyrannical violence, had then grown into a regular 
 system, and was subject to rules resembling those of legal 
 jurisdiction. At first sight it may appear difficult to con- 
 ceive how ecclesiastics could have moulded into a regular 
 form this anomalous branch of jurisprudence. But many 
 of the ecclesiastical order, originally the only lawyers, 
 were eminently skilled in the civil and canon law, wliich 
 had attained an order and precision unknown to the 
 digests of barbarous usages then attempted in France and 
 England. The ecclesiastical chancellors introduced into 
 their court a course of proceeding very similar to that 
 adopted by other European nations, who all owned the 
 authority of the canon law, and were enlightened by the 
 wisdom of the Roman code. The proceedings in chance- 
 ry, lately recovered from oblivion, show the system to 
 have been in regular activity about a century and a half 
 before the chancellorship of sir Thomas More, the first 
 common lawyer who held the great seal since the chan- 
 cellor had laid any foundations (known to us) of his 
 equitable jurisdiction. The course of education, and even 
 of negotiation in that age, conferred on More, who was 
 the most distinguished of the practisers of the common 
 law, the learning and ability of a civilian and a canonist. 
 In his administration, from the 25th of October 1529, to 
 
 * Calendars of Proceedings in Chanc. temp. Eliz. [London, 1827.1 
 Of ten of these suits which occurred in the last ten years of the fourteenth 
 century, one complains of ouster from land by violence ; another, of exciu- 
 Bion from a benefice, by a writ obtained from the king under false suggos- 
 tioni ; a third, for the seizure of a freeman, under pretext of being a 
 slave (or nief ) ; a fourth, for boin^ disturbed in the enjoyment of land by 
 a trespasser, abetted by the sheriff; a fifth, for imprisonment on a false al- 
 legation of debt. No case is extant, prior to the first year of Henry V., which 
 relates to the trust of lands, which eminent writers have represented as 
 the original object of this jurisdiction. In the reign of Henry VI. there is a 
 bill against certain Wycliffites for outrages done to the plaintiff, Robert 
 Burton, chanter of the cathedral of Lincoln, on account of his zeal as aa 
 inquisitor in the diocese of Lincoln, to convict and punish heretics. 
 
PIR THOMAS MORE. 53 
 
 the 16th of May 1532, four hundred bills and answers are 
 Ktill preserved, which afford an average of about a hundred 
 and sixty suits annually. Though this average may by no 
 means adequately represent the whole occupations of a court 
 which had many other duties to perform, it supplies us with 
 some means of comparing the extent of its business under 
 iiim with the number of similar proceedings in succeeding 
 times. The whole amount of bills and answers in the reign 
 of James I. was 32,000. How far the number may have dif- 
 fered at different parts of that reign, the unarranged state 
 of the records does not yet enable us to ascertain. But 
 supposing it, by a rough estimate, to have continued the 
 same, the annual average of bills and answers during the 
 four years of lord Bacon's administration was 1461, being 
 an increase of nearly ten-fold in somewhat less than a cen- 
 tury. Though causes connected with the progress of the 
 jurisdiction and the character of tlie chancellor must have 
 contributed to this remarkable increase, yet it must be as- 
 cribed principally to the extraordinary impulse given to 
 daring enterprise and national wealth by the splendid ad- 
 ministration of Elizabeth, which multiplied alike the occa- 
 sions of litigation and the moans of carrying it on.* In a 
 century and a half after, when equitable jurisdiction was 
 completed in its foundations and most necessary parts by 
 iord chancellor Nottingham, the whole number of equity 
 suits was about fifteen thousand,which yields an average of 
 sixteen hundred and fifly to every year of his chancellorship.f 
 Under lord Hardwicke, the chancellor of most profes- 
 sional celebrity, the yearly average of bills and answers 
 appears to have been about two thousand ; probably in part 
 because more questions had been finally determined, and 
 partly also because the delays were so aggravated by the 
 multiplicity of business, that parties aggrieved chose 
 rather to submit to wrong than to be ruined in pursuit of 
 right. This last mischief arose in a great measure from 
 the variety of affairs added to the original duties of a 
 chancellor, of which the principal were bankruptcy and 
 parliamentary appeals. Both these causes continued to 
 act with increasing force ; so that, in spite of a vast in- 
 crease of the property and dealings of the kingdom, the 
 average number of bills and answers was considerably 
 
 * From a letter of lord Bacon (Lords' Journals, 20th March, 1680,) it 
 appears that he made 2000 decrees and orders in a year ; so that in hia 
 time the bilU and answers amounted to about two thirds of the whole busi- 
 ness. 
 
 i The numbers have been obligingly supplied by iho gentlemen of the 
 Record Office in the Tower. 
 
 5* 
 
54 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 less from 1800 to 1809 than it had been from 1745 to 
 1754.* 
 
 It must not be supposed that men trained in any sys- 
 tem of jurisprudence, as the ecclesiastical chancellors, 
 could have been indifferent to the inconvenience and vex- 
 ation which necessarily harass the holders of a merely 
 arbitrary power. Not having a law, they were a law unto 
 themselves ; and every chancellor who contributed by a 
 determination to establish a principle, became instrumen- 
 tal in circumscribing the power of his successor. Selden 
 is, indeed, represented to have said, that equity is accord- 
 ing to the conscience of him who is chancellor ; which is 
 as uncertain as if we made the chancellor's foot the 
 standard for the measure which we call a foot.f But this 
 was spoken in the looseness of table-talk, and under the 
 influence of the prejudices then prevalent among common 
 lawyers against equitable jurisdiction. Still, perhaps, in 
 his time, what he said might be true enough for a smart 
 saying. But in process of time a system of rules was es- 
 tablished, which has constantly tended to limit the orig- 
 inally discretionary powers of the chancery. Equity^ 
 in the acceptation in which that word is used in English 
 jurisprudence, is no longer to be confounded with that 
 moral equity which generally corrects the unjust operation 
 of law, and with which it seems to have been synonymous 
 in the days of Selden and Bacon. It i a part of laws 
 formed from usages and determinations, which sometimes 
 differ from what is called common law in its subjects, but 
 chiefly varies from it in its modes of proof, of trial, and 
 of relief; it is a jurisdiction so irregularly formed, and 
 often so little dependent on general principles, that it can 
 hardly be defined or made intelligible otherwise than by a 
 minute enumeration of the matters cognizable by it.J 
 
 It will be seen from tlie above, that sir Thomas More's du- 
 ties differed very widely from the various exertions of labor 
 and intellect required from a modern chancellor. At the ut- 
 most he did not hear more tlian two hundred cases and ar- 
 guments yearly, including those of every description. No 
 authentic account of any case tried before him, if any such 
 be extant, has been yet brought to light. No law book 
 alludes to any part of his judgments or reasonings. Noth- 
 
 * Account of Proceedings in Parliament relative to the Court of Chan- 
 cery. By C. P. Cooper, Esq. p. ]02, &.c. London, 1828. A work equally 
 remarkahle for knowledge and acutonesf). 
 
 t Tabic Talk, p. 55. Edinburgh, 1809. 
 
 j Blackstone, book iii. c. 27. Lord Hardwicke's Letter to Lord Komes, 
 30th June, 1757. Lord Woodhousclee's Life of Lord Kaines, vol. i. p. 237 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 55 
 
 ing of this higher part of his judicial life is preserved, 
 which can warrant us in believing more than that it must 
 have displayed his never-failing integrity, reason, learning, 
 and eloquence. 
 
 The particulars of his instalment are not unworthy of 
 being specified as a proof of the reverence for his endow- 
 ments and excellences professed by the king, and enter- 
 tained by the public, to whose judgment the ministers of 
 Henry seemed virtually to appeal, with an assurance that 
 the king's appointment would be ratified by the general 
 voice. "He was led between the dukes of Norfolk and 
 Suffolk up Westminster Hall to the Stone Chamber, and 
 there they honourably placed him in the high judgment- 
 seat of chancellor"* (for the chancellor was, by his 
 office, the president of that terrible tribunal). "The duke 
 of Norfolk, premier peer and lord high treasurer of Eng- 
 land," continues the biographer, " by the command of the 
 king, spoke thus unto the people there with great applause 
 and joy gathered together : — 
 
 'The king's majesty (which, I pray God, may prove 
 hap pie and fortunate to the whole realme of England) hath 
 raised to the most high dignitie of chancellourship sir 
 Thomas More, a man for his extraordinarie worth and suf- 
 ficiencie well knowne to himself and the whole realme, 
 for no otJier cause or earthlie respect, but for that he hath 
 plainely perceaved all the gifls of nature and grace to be 
 heaped upon him, which either the people could desire, or 
 himself wish, for the discharge of so great an office. For 
 the admirable wisedome, integritie, and innocencie, joyned 
 with most pleasant facilitie of witt, that this man is en- 
 dowed withall, have been sufficiently knowen to all 
 Englishmen from his youth, and for these manie yeares 
 also to the king's majestie himself. This hath the king 
 abundantly found in manie and weightie afTayres, which 
 he hath happily dispatched both at home and abroad ; in 
 diverse offices which he hath born, in most honourable em- 
 bassages which lie hath undergone ; and in his daily 
 counsell and advises upon all other occasions. He hath 
 perceaved no man in his realme to be more wise in delib- 
 erating, more sincere in opening to him what he thought, 
 nor more eloquent to adorne the matter which he uttered. 
 Wherefore, because he saw in him such excellent endow- 
 ments, and that of his especiall care he hath a particular de- 
 sire that his kingdome and people might be governed with all 
 equitie and justice, integritie and wisedome ; he of his 
 
 * More's Life of Sir T. More, 156. 1C3. 
 
56 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 owne moBt gracious disposition hath created this singular 
 man lord chancellor; that, by his laudable performance 
 of this office, his people may enjoy peace and justice ; and 
 honour also and fame may redounde to the whole kingdome. 
 It may perhaps seeme to manie a strange and unusuall 
 matter, that this dignitie should be bestowed upon a lay- 
 man, none of the nobilitie, and one that hath wife and 
 children ; because heretofore none but singular learned 
 prelates, or men of greatest nobilitie, have possessed 
 this place ; but what is wanting in these respects, the ad- 
 mirable vertues, the matchless guifts of witt and wisedome 
 of this man, doth most plentifully recompence the same. 
 For the king's majestic hath not regarded how great, but 
 what a man he was ; he hath not cast his eyes upon the 
 nobilitie of his bloud, but on the worth of his person ; he 
 hath respected his sufficiencie, not his profession ; finally, 
 he would show by this his choyce, that he hath some rare 
 subjects amongst the rowe of gentlemen and laymen, who 
 deserve to manage the highest ofiices of the realme, 
 which bishops and noblemen think they only can deserve. 
 The rarer therefore it was, so much both himself held it 
 to be the more excellent, and to his people he thought it 
 would be the more gratefull. Wherefore, receave this 
 your chancellour with joyful acclamations, at whose hands 
 you may expect all happinesse and content.' 
 
 " Sir Thomas More, according to his wonted modestie, was 
 somewhat abashed at this the duke's speech, in that it sound- 
 ed so much to his praise ; but recollecting himself as that 
 place and time would give him leave, he answered in this 
 sorte : — ' Although, most noble duke, and you right honour- 
 able lords, and worshipfuU gentlemen, I knowe all these 
 things, which the king's majestie, it seemeth, hath 
 bene pleased should be spoken of me at this time and 
 place, and your grace hath with most eloquent wordes thus 
 amplifyed, are as far from me, as I could wish with all 
 my hart they were in me for the better performance of so 
 great a charge ; and although this your speach hath caused 
 in me greater feare than I can well express in words ; yet 
 this incomparable favour of my dread soueraigne, by which 
 he showeth how well, yea how highly he conceaveth of my 
 weakenesse, having commanded that my meanesse should 
 be so greatly commended, cannot be but most acceptable 
 unto me : and I cannot choose but give your most noble grace 
 exceeding thankes, that what his majestie hath willed you 
 briefly to utter, you, of the abundance of your love unto me, 
 have in a large and eloquent oration dilated. As for my- 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 57 
 
 self, I can take it no otherwise, but that his majestie's in- 
 comparable favour towards me, the good will and incredi- 
 ble propension of his royall minde (wherewith he hath 
 these manie yeares favoured me continually), hath alone, 
 without anie desert of mine at all, caused both this my 
 new honour, and these your undeserved commendations 
 of me. For who am I, or what is the house of my father, 
 that the king's highnesse should heape upon me by such 
 a perpetuall streame of affection, these so high honours ? 
 I am farre lesse then anie the meanest of his benefitta be- 
 stowed on me ; how can I then thinke myself worthie or 
 fitt for this so peerlesse dignitie ? I have bene drawen by 
 force, as the king's majestie often professeth, to his high- 
 nesse's service, to be a courtier ; but to take this dignitie 
 upon me, is most of all against my will ; yet such is his 
 highnesse's benignitie, such is his bountie, that he highly 
 esteemeth the small dutiefulnesse of his meanest subjects, 
 and seeketh still magnificently to recompence his ser- 
 vants ; not only such as deserve well, but even such as 
 have but a desire to deserve well at his hands, in which 
 number I have alwaies wished myself to be reckoned, be- 
 cause I cannot challenge myself to be one of the former ; 
 which being so, you may all perceave with me how great 
 a burden is layde upon my backe, in that I must strive in 
 some sorte with my diligence and dutie to corresponde 
 with his royall benevolence, and to be answerable to that 
 great expectation, which he and you seeme to have of 
 me ; wherefore those so high praises are by me so much 
 more grievous unto me, by how much more I know the 
 greater charge I have to render myself worthie of, and 
 the fewer means I have to make them goode. This weight 
 is hardly suitable to my weake shoulders ; this honour is 
 not correspondent to my poore desert ; it is a burden, not 
 a glorie ; a care, not a dignitie ; the one therefore I must 
 beare as manfully as I can, and discharge the other with 
 as much dexteritie as I shall be able. The earnest desire 
 which I have alwaies had, and doe now acknowledge my- 
 self to have, to satisfye by all meanes I can possible, the 
 most ample benefitts of his highnesse, will greatly excite 
 and ayde me to the diligent performance of all, which I 
 trust also I shall be more able to doe, if I finde all your 
 good wills and wishes both favourable unto me, and con- 
 formable to his royal munificence : because my serious 
 endeavours to doe well, joyned with your favourable accept- 
 ance, will easily procure that whatsoever is performed by 
 rae, though it be in itself but small, yet will it seeme great 
 
58 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 and proiseworthie ; for those things are alwaies atchieved 
 happily, which are accepted willingly ; and those succeede 
 fortunately, which are receaved by others courteously. 
 As you therefore doe hope for great matters, and the best 
 at my hands, so, though I dare not promise anie such, yet 
 do I promise truly and affectionately to performe the best 
 I shall be able.' 
 
 "When sir Thomas More had spoken these wordes, 
 i;urning his face to the high judgement seate of the Chan- 
 eerie, he proceeded in this manner: — 'But when I looke 
 upon this seate, when I thinke how greate and what kinde 
 of personages have possessed this place before me, when 
 I call to minde who he was that sate in it last of all — a 
 man of what singular wisdome, of what notable expe- 
 rience, what a prosperous and favourable fortune he had 
 for a great space, and how at the last he had a most grievous 
 fall, and dyed inglorious — I have cause enough, by my pre- 
 decessor's example, to think honour but slipperie, and this 
 dignitie not so grateful to me as it may seeme to others ; 
 for both is it a hard matter to follow with like paces or 
 praises, a man of such admirable witt, prudence, authoritie, 
 and splendour, to whome I may seeme but as the light- 
 ing of a candle, when the sun is downe ; and also the sud- 
 den and unexpected fall of so great a man as he was doth 
 terribly putt me in minde that this honour ought not to 
 please me too much, nor the lustre of this glistering seate 
 dazel mine eyes. Wherefore I ascende this seate as a 
 place full of labour and danger, voyde of all solide and true 
 honour ; the which by how much the higher it is, by so 
 much greater fall I am to feare, as well in respect of the 
 verie nature of the thing it selfe, as because I am warned 
 by this late fearfuU example. And truly I might even now 
 at this verie just entrance stumble, yea faynte, but that 
 his majestie's most singular favour towardes me, and all 
 your good wills, which your joyfull countenance doth tes- 
 tifye in this most honourable assemblie, doth somewhat 
 recreate and refresh me ; otherwise this seate would be 
 no more pleasing to me, than that sword was to Damo- 
 cles, which hung over his head, tyed only by a hayre of a 
 horse's tale, when he had store of delicate fare before him, 
 seated in the chair of state of Denis the Tirant of Sicilie ; 
 this therefore shall be always fresh in my minde, this will 
 I have still before mine eies, that this seate will be honour- 
 able, famous, and full of glorie unto me, if I shall with 
 care and diligence, fidelitie and wisedome, endeavour to 
 doe my dutie, and shall persuade myself, that the enjoying 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 59 
 
 thereof may be but short and uncertaine ; the one where- 
 of my labour ought to performe ; the other my predeces- 
 sor's example may easily teach me. All which being so, 
 you may easily perceave what great pleasure I take in 
 this high dignitie, or in this most noble duke's praising of 
 me.' 
 
 " x\ll the world took notice now of sir Thomas's dignitie, 
 whereof Erasmus writeth to John Fabius, bishopp of Vien- 
 na, thus : — ' Concerning the new increase of honour lately 
 happened to Thomas More, I should easily make you be- 
 lieve it, if I should shew you the letters of many famous 
 men, rejoicing with much alacritie, and congratulating 
 the king, the realme, himself, and also me, for More's hon- 
 or, in being made lord chancellour of England.' " 
 
 When sir Thomas More was seated in his court of 
 chancery, his father, sir John More, who was nearly of the 
 age of ninety, was the most ancient judge of the King's 
 Bench. " What a grateful spectacle was it," says their 
 descendant, " to see the son ask the blessing of the father 
 every day upon his knees before he sat upon his own 
 seat !"* Even in a more unceremonious age, the simple 
 character of More would have protected these daily rites 
 of filial reverence from the suspicions of affectation, which 
 could alone destroy their charm. But at that time, it 
 must have borrowed its chief power from the conspicuous 
 excellence of the father and son. For if inward worth 
 had then borne any proportion to the grave and reverend 
 ceremonial of the age, we might be well warranted in 
 regarding our forefathers as a race of superior beings. 
 
 The contrast of the humble and affable More with the 
 haughty cardinal, astonished and delighted the suitors. 
 No application could be made to Wolsey, which did not 
 pass through many hands ; and no man could apply, whose 
 fingers were not tipped with gold. But More sat daily in 
 an open hall that he might receive in person the petitions 
 of the poor. If any reader should blame his conduct in 
 this respect, as a breach of an ancient and venerable pre- 
 cept, " Ye shall do no unrighteousness in judgment ; thou 
 shalt not respect the person of the poor, nor honor the 
 person of the mighty ; but in righteousness shalt thou, judge 
 thy neighbor ;"t let it be remembered, that there still clung 
 to the equitable jurisdiction some remains of that pre- 
 carious and eleemosynary nature from which it originally 
 sprung ; which, in the eyes of the compassionate chancel- 
 
 * More's Life of Sir T. More, p. 163. f Leviticus, xix. 15. 
 
60 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 lor, might warrant more preference for the helpless poor 
 than could be justified in proceedings more rigorously- 
 legal. 
 
 Courts of law were jealous then, as since, of the power 
 assumed by chancellors to issue injunctions to parties to 
 desist from doing certain acts which they were by law 
 entitled to do, until the court of chancery should deter- 
 mine whether the exercise of the legal right would not 
 work injustice. There are many instances in which 
 irreparable wrong may be committed, before a right can 
 be ascertained, in the ordinary course of proceedings. In 
 such cases, it is the province of the chancellor to take care 
 that affairs shall continue in their actual condition until 
 the questions in dispute be determined. A consider- 
 able outcry against this necessary, though invidious au- 
 thority, was raised at the commencement of More's chan- 
 cellorship. He silenced this clamor with his wonted pru- 
 dence and meekness. Having caused one of the six 
 clerks to make out a list of the injunctions issued by him, 
 or pending before him, he invited all the judges to dinner. 
 He laid the list before them ; and explained the circum- 
 stances of each case so satisfactorily, that they all confess- 
 ed that in the like case they Avould have done no less. 
 Nay, he offered to desist from the jurisdiction, if they 
 would undertake to contain the law within the boundaries 
 of righteousness, which he thought they ought in con- 
 science to do. The judges declined to make the attempt ; 
 on which he observed privately to Roper, that he saw they 
 trusted to their influence for obtaining verdicts which 
 would shift the responsibility from them to the juries. 
 " Wherefore," said he, " I am constrained to abide the 
 adventure of their blame." 
 
 Dauncey, one of his sons-in-law, alleged that, under 
 Wolsey, "even the door-keepers got great gains," and 
 was so perverted by the venality there practised, that he 
 expostulated with More for his churlish integrity. The chan- 
 cellor said, that if " his father, whom he reverenced dearly, 
 were on the one side, and the devil, whom he hated with 
 all his might, on the other, the devil should have his right." 
 He is represented by his descendant, as softening his 
 answer by promising minor advantages, such as priority of 
 hearing, and recommendation of arbitration, where the 
 case of a friend was bad. The biographer, however, not 
 being a lawyer, might have misunderstood the conversa- 
 tion, which had to pass through more than one generation 
 before the tradition reached him ; or the words may have 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 61 
 
 been a hasty effusion of good nature, uttered only to quali- 
 fy the roughness of his honesty. If he had been called to 
 perform these promises, his head and heart would have 
 recoiled alike from breaches of equality which he would 
 have felt to be altogether dishonest. When Heron, anoth- 
 er of his sons-in-law, relied on the bad practices of the 
 times so far els to intreat a favorable judgment in a cause 
 of his own. More, though the most affectionate of fathers, 
 immediately undeceived him by an adverse decree. This 
 act of common justice is made an object of panegyric by 
 the biographer, as if it were then deemed an extraordinary 
 instance of virtue ; a deplorable symptom of that corrupt 
 state of general opinion, which, half a century later, con- 
 tributed to betray into ignominious vices, the wisest of men, 
 and the most illustrious of chancellors, — if the latter distinc- 
 tion be not rather due to the virtue of a More or a Somers. 
 
 He is said to have despatched the causes before him so 
 speedily, that, on asking for the next, he was told that 
 none remained ; which is boastfully contrasted by Mr. 
 More, his descendant, with the arrear of a thousand in the 
 time of that gentleman, who lived in the reign of Charles 
 I. ; though we have already seen that this difference may 
 be referred to other causes ; and therefore that the fact, if 
 true, proves no more than his exemplary diligence and 
 merited reputation. 
 
 The scrupulous a^d delicate integrity of More (for so 
 it must be called in speaking of that age) was more clear- 
 ly shown after his resignation, than it could have been 
 during his continuance in office. One Parnell complain- 
 ed of him for a decree obtained by his adversary Vaughan, 
 whose wife had biHbed the chancellor by a gilt cup. 
 He surprised the council at first, by owning that he receiv- 
 ed the cup as a new year's gift. Lord Wiltshire, a zealous 
 Protestant, indecently, but prematurely, exulted. " Did I 
 not tell you, my lords," said he, " that you would find this 
 matter true ?" — " But, my lords," replied More, " hear the 
 other part of my tale. After having drank to her of wine 
 with which my butler had filled the cup, and when she 
 had pledged him, he restored it to her, and would listen 
 to no refusal." When Mrs. Croker, for whom he had made 
 a decree against lord Arundel, came to him to request hi% 
 acceptance of a pair of gloves, in which were contained 
 40/. in angels, he told her, with a smile, that it were ill 
 manners to refuse a lady's present ; but though he should 
 keep the gloves, he must return the gold, which he en- 
 forced her to receive. Gresham, a suitor, sent him a pres- 
 
 VOL. 1. 6 
 
62 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 ent of a gilt cup, of which the fashion pleased him. 
 More accepted it ; but would not do so till Gresham re- 
 ceived from him another cup of greater value, but of which 
 the form and workmanship were less suitable to the chan- 
 cellor. It would be an indignity to the memory of such a 
 man to quote these facts as proofs of his probity ; but they 
 may be mentioned as specimens of the simple and unforc- 
 ed honesty of one who rejected improper offers with all 
 the ease and pleasantry of common courtesy. 
 
 Henry, in bestowing the great seal on More, hoped to 
 dispose his chancellor to lend his authority to the projects 
 of divorce and second marriage, which now agitated the 
 king's mind, and were the main objects of his policy.* 
 Arthur, the eldest son of Henry VH., had married Catha- 
 rine, the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, sovereigns 
 of Castile and Aragon. As the young prince died very 
 shortly after his nuptials, Henry obtained a dispensation 
 from pope Julius II. to enable the princess to marry her 
 brother-in-law, afterwards Henry YIII. That monarch 
 solemnized his marriage with her after his accession, and 
 lived sixteen years in apparent harmony with her. Mary 
 was the only child of this marriage who survived infancy ; 
 but in the year 1527 a concurrence of events arose, which 
 tried and established the virtue of More, and revealed to 
 the world the depravity of his master. Henry was touch- 
 ed by the charms of Anne Boleyn^ a beautiful young 
 lady, in her twenty-second year, the daughter of sir 
 Thommas Boleyn, earl of Wiltshire, who had lately returned 
 from the court of France, where her youth had been spent. 
 At the same moment it became the policy of Francis I. to 
 loosen all the ties which joined the king of England to 
 the emperor. When the bishop of Tarbes, his ambassa- 
 dor in England, found, on his arrival in London, the grow- 
 ing distaste of Henry for his inoffensive and exemplary 
 wife, he promoted the king's inclination towards divorce, 
 and suggested a marriage with Margaret duchess of Alen- 
 ^on, the beautiful and graceful sister of Francis f .* 
 
 * " Thomas Morus, doctrin^ et probitate spectabilis vir, cancellarius in 
 Wolsaei locum conatituitur. J^eutiquam Rcffis causm cBquior," — Thuani 
 Hist, sui Temporis, lib. ii. c. 16. edit. Lond. 1733. i. 31. 
 - t " Margarita t'rancisci soror, spectatoe formaj et venustatis femina, 
 Carolo Alenconio duce marito paulo ante mortuo, vidua permanserat. Ea 
 destinata uxor Henrico ; missiquo WoIssdub et Bigerrouum Proesul qui de 
 dissolvendo matrinionio cum Gallo agerent. Ut caletum appulit Wolaseua 
 mandatum a rege contrarium accipit, rescivitquo per amicoB Henricum non 
 tam Gain adfinitatem quam insanum amorem quo Annam Bolonam proee- 
 quebatur, explere velle." — Thuan. ubi svprd. 
 
 No trace oi the latter part appeara in the state papers just published. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 63 
 
 At this period Henry for the first time professed to 
 harbor conscientious doubts whether the dispensation of 
 Julius II. could suspend the obligation of the divine pro- 
 hibition pronounced against such a marriage in the Leviti- 
 cal law.* The court of Rome did not dare to contend 
 that the dispensation could reach the case if the prohibi- 
 tion were part of the universal law of God. Henry, on 
 the other side, could not consistently question its validity, 
 if he considered the precept as belonging to merely posi- 
 tive law. To this question, therefore, the dispute was 
 confined, though both parties shrunk from an explicit and 
 precise avowal of their main ground. The most reasona- 
 ble solution, that it was a local and temporary law, forming 
 a part of the Hebrew code, might seem at first sight to 
 destroy its authority altogether. But if either party had 
 been candid, this prohibition, adopted by all Christendom, 
 might be justified by that general usage, in a case where it 
 was not remarkably at variance with reason or the public 
 welfare. But such a doctrine would have lowered the 
 ground of this papal authority too much to be acceptable 
 to Rome, and yet, on the other hand, rested it on too un- 
 exceptionable a foundation to suit the case of Henry. 
 False allegations of facts in the preamble of the bull 
 were alleged on the same side ; but they were inconclu- 
 sive. The principal arguments in tlie king's favor were, 
 that no precedents of such a dispensation seem to have 
 been produced ; and that if the Levitical prohibitions do 
 not continue in force under the Gospel, tliere is no prohibi- 
 tion against incestuous marriages in tlie system of the 
 New Testament. It was a disadvantage to the church 
 of Rome in controversy, that, being driven from the low 
 ground by its supposed tendency to degrade the subject, 
 and deterred from the high ground by the fear of the re- 
 proach of daring usurpation, the inevitable consequence 
 was confusion and fluctuation respecting the first princi- 
 ples on which the question was to be determined. 
 
 To pursue this subject through the long negotiations 
 and discussions which it occasioned during six years, would 
 be to lead us far from the life of sir Thomas More, even 
 if the writer of these pages had not very recently atterapt- 
 
 * Leviticus, xy. 3. xx. 22. But see Deuteronomy, xxv. 5. The latter 
 text, which allows an exception in the case of a brother's wife being left 
 childless, may be thought to strengthen the prohibition in all cases not ex- 
 cepted. It may seem applicable to the precise case of Henry. But the 
 application of that text is impossible ; for it contains an injunction, of which 
 the breach is chastised by a disgracenil punishment. 
 
64 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 ed a summary account of them.* Suffice it here to say, 
 that Clement VII. {Medici), though originally inclined 
 to favor the suitf of Henry, according to the usual policy 
 of the Roman court, which sought plausible pretexts for 
 facilitating the divorce of kings, whose matrimonial con- 
 nections might be represented as involving the quiet of 
 nations ; an allegation which was often enough true to be 
 always specious. The sack of Rome and the captivity of 
 the pontiff left Clement full of fear of the emperor's pow- 
 er and displeasure ; it is even said that Charles V., who 
 had discovered the secret designs of the English court, 
 had extorted from the pope before his release, a promise 
 that no attempt would be made to dishonor an Austrian 
 princess by acceding to the divorce.| The pope, unwill- 
 ing to provoke Henry, his powerful and generous pro- 
 tector, instructed Campeggio to attempt, first, a reconcilia- 
 tion between the king and queen ; secondly, if that failed, 
 to endeavor to persuade her, that she ought to acquiesce 
 in her husband's desires, by entering into a cloister; a 
 proposition which seems to show a readiness in the Ro- 
 man court to wave their theological difficulties ; and, 
 thirdly, if neither of these attempts were successful, to 
 spin out the negotiation to the greatest length, in order to 
 profit by the favorable incidents which time might bring 
 forth. The impatience of the king and the honest indig- 
 nation of the queen defeated these arts of Italian poU- 
 icy. The resistance of Anne Boleyn to the irregular 
 gratification of the king's desires, without the belief of 
 which it is impossible to conceive the motives for his 
 perseverance in the pursuit of an unequal marriage, oppos- 
 ed another impediment to the counsels and contrivances 
 of Clement, which must have surprised and perplexed a 
 Florentine pontiff. All these proceedings terminated 
 in the sentence of nullity in the case of Henry's marriage 
 with Catharine, pronounced by Cranmer, the espousal 
 of Anne Boleyn by the king, and the rejection of the 
 papal jurisdiction by the kingdom, which still, howev- 
 er, adhered to the doctrines of the Roman Catiiolic 
 church. 
 
 The situation of More, during a great part of these 
 memorable events, was embarrassing. The great offices 
 to which he was raised by the Mng, the personal favor 
 hitherto constantly shown to him, and the natural tenden- 
 
 * History of England, ii. 
 
 t Pallavicino, lib. ii. c. 15. edit, de Milan, 1745, v. i. p. 251. 
 
 X Id. ibid, from MS. Correspondence. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 65 
 
 cy of his gentle and quiet disposition, combined to disin- 
 cline him to resistance against the wishes of his friendly 
 master. On the other hand, his growing dread and horror 
 of heresy, with its train of disorders ; his belief that uni- 
 versal anarchy would be the inevitable result of religious 
 dissension, and the operation of seven years' controversy 
 for the Catholic church, in heating his mind on all sub- 
 jects involving the extent of her authority, made him re- 
 coil from designs which were visibly tending towards dis- 
 union with the Roman pontiff, the centre of Catholic union, 
 and the supreme magistrate of the ecclesiastical common- 
 wealth. Though his opinions relating to the papal author- 
 ity were of a moderate and liberal nature, he at least re- 
 spected it as an ancient and venerable control on licen- 
 tious opinions, of which the prevailing heresies attested 
 the value and the necessity. 
 
 Though he might have been better pleased with anotli- 
 er determination by the supreme pontiff, it did not follow 
 that he should contribute to weaken the holy see, assailed 
 as it was on every side, by taking an active part in resist- 
 ance to the final decision of a lawful authority. Obedi- 
 ence to the supreme head of the church, in a case which ul- 
 timately related only to discipline, appeared peculiarly in- 
 cumbent on all professed Catholics. But however sin- 
 cere the zeal of More for the Catholic religion, and his sup- 
 port of the legitimate supremacy of the Roman see, undoubt- 
 edly were, he was surely influenced at tlie same time by 
 the humane feelings of his just and generous nature, 
 which engaged his heart to espouse the cause of a blame- 
 less and wronged princess, driven from the throne and the 
 bed of a tyrannical husband. Though he reasoned the case 
 as a divine and a canonist, he must have felt it as a man. 
 That honest feeling must have glowed beneath the sub- 
 tleties and formalities of doubtful and sometimes frivo- 
 lous disputations. It was probably often the chief cause of 
 conduct for which other reasons might be sincerely alleged. 
 
 In steering his course through the intrigues and pas- 
 sions of the court, it is very observable that More most 
 Avarily retired from every opposition but that which con- 
 science absolutely required: he shunned unnecessary 
 disobedience as much as unconscientious compliance. If 
 he had been influenced solely by prudential considerations, 
 he could not have more cautiously shunned every need- 
 less opposition ; but in that case he would not have gone 
 so far. He displayed, at the time of which we now speak, 
 that very peculiar excellence of his character, which, as 
 6* 
 
66 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 it showed his submission to be the fruit of sense of duty, 
 gave dignity to that which in others is apt to seem and to 
 be slavish. 
 
 The anxieties of More increased with the approach 
 towards the execution of the king's projects of divorce 
 and second marriage. Some anecdotes of this period are 
 preserved by the affectionate and descriptive pen of Mar- 
 garet Roper's husband, which, as he evidently reports in 
 the chancellor's language, it would be unpardonable to re- 
 late in any other words than those of the venerable man 
 himself. Roper, indeed, like another Plutarch, consults 
 the unrestrained freedom of his story by a disregard of 
 dates, which, however agreeable to a general reader, is 
 sometimes unsatisfactory to a searcher after accuracy. 
 Yet his office in a court of law, where there is the strong- 
 est inducement to ascertain truth, and the largest experi- 
 ence of the means most effectual for that purpose, might 
 have taught him the extreme importance of time as well 
 as place in estimating the bearing and weight of testimony. 
 
 " On a time walking with me along the Thames's side at 
 Chelsea, he said unto me, ' Now would to our Lord, son 
 Roper, upon condition that three things were well estab- 
 lished in Christendom, I were put into a sack, and were 
 presently cast into the Thames.' — ' What great things be 
 those, sir,' quoth I, ' that should move you so to Avish ?' — 
 'In faith, son, they be these,' said he. ' The Jirst is, that 
 whereas the most part of Christian princes be at mortal 
 war, they were all at universal peace. The second, that 
 where the church of Christ is at present sore afflicted with 
 many errors and heresies, it were well settled in perfect 
 uniformity of religion. The third, that as the matter of 
 the king's marriage is now come in question, it were, to the 
 glory of God and quietness of all parties, brought to a good 
 conclusion.' "* 
 
 On another occasion,f " before the matrimony was 
 brouglit in question, when I, in talk with sir Thomas More 
 (of a certain joy), commended unto him the happy estate 
 of this realm, that had so Catliolic a prince, so grave and 
 sound a nobility, and so loving, obedient subjects, agree- 
 ing in one faith.— 
 
 " ' Truth it is, indeed, son Roper ; and yet I pray God, as 
 high as we sit upon the mountains, treading heretics un- 
 
 * The description of the period appears to suit tlie year 1529, heforo the 
 peace of Carabray and the recall of the legate Campeggio. 
 
 t Probably in the beginning of J527, aller the promotion of More to be 
 chancellor of the duchy of Lancaster. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 67 
 
 der our feet like ants, live not the day that we gladly 
 would wish to be at league and composition with them, to 
 let them have their churches, so that they would be con- 
 tented to let us have ours quietly.' I answered, ' By my 
 troth, it is very desperately spoken.' He, perceiving me 
 to be in a/ume, said merrily, — ' Well, well, son Roper, it 
 shall not be so.' Whom," concludes Roper, " in sixteen 
 years and more being in his house, conversant with him, 
 I never could perceive him as much as once in a fume." 
 
 Doubtless he was somewhat disquieted by the reflec- 
 tion, that some of those who now appealed to the freedom 
 of his youthful philosophy against himself would speedily 
 begin to abuse such doctrines by turning- them against 
 the peace which he loved, — that some of the spoilers of 
 Rome might exhibit the like scenes of rapine and blood 
 in the city which was his birth-place and his dwelling- 
 place. Yet even then, the placid mien, which had stood 
 the test of every petty annoyance for sixteen years, was 
 unruffled by alarms for the impending fate of his country 
 and of his religion. 
 
 Henry used every means of procuring an opinion 
 favorable to his wishes from his chancellor, who excused 
 himself as unmeet for such matters, having never profess- 
 ed the study of divinity. But the king " sorely " press- 
 ed him,* and never ceased urging him until he had 
 promised to give his consent, at least, to examine the 
 question, conjunctly with his friend Tunstall and other 
 learned divines. After the examination, More, with his 
 wonted ingenuity and gentleness, conveyed the result to 
 his master. " To be plain with your grace, neither your 
 bishops, wise and virtuous though they be, nor myself, nor 
 any other of your council, by reason of your manifold bene- 
 fits bestowed on us, are meet counsellors for your grace 
 herein. If you mind to understand the truth, consult St. 
 Jerome, St. Augustin, and other holy doctors of the Greek 
 and Latin churches, who will not be inclined to deceive 
 you by respect of their own worldly commodity, or by fear 
 of your princely displeasure."f Though the king did not 
 like what " was disagreeable to his desires, yet the lan- 
 guage of More was so wisely tempered, that for the 
 present he took it in good part, and oftentimes had con- 
 ferences with the chancellor thereon." The native meek- 
 ness of More was probably more effectual than all the arts 
 by which courtiers ingratiate themselves, or insinuate un- 
 palatable counsel. 
 
 * Roper, p. 32. f W. 48. 
 
68 BRltlSH STATESMEN. 
 
 Shortly after, the king- again moved him to weigh and 
 consider the great matter. The chancellor fell down on 
 his knees, and, reminding Henry of his own words on de- 
 livering the great seal, which were, — " First look upon 
 God, and after God upon me," added, that nothing had 
 ever so pained him as that he was not able to serve his 
 grace in that matter, witliout a breach of that original 
 injunction which he had received on the acceptance of his 
 office. The king said he was content to accept his ser- 
 vice otherwise, and would continue his favor ; never with 
 that matter molesting his conscience afterwards.* But 
 when the progress towards the marriage was so far ad- 
 vanced, that he saw how soon the active cooperation of a 
 chancellor must be required, he made suit to " his singular 
 dear friend," the duke of Norfolk, to procure his discharge 
 from this office. The duke, often solicited by More, then 
 obtained, by importunate suit, a clear discharge for the 
 chancellor. When he repaired to the king, to resign the 
 great seal into his majesty's hands, Henry received him 
 with thanks and praise for his worthy service, and assured 
 him, that in any suit that should either concern his honor 
 or appertain unto his profit, the king would show himself 
 a good and gracious master to his faithful servant. The 
 king directed Norfolk, when he installed his successor, to 
 declare publicly, that his majesty had with pain yielded to 
 the prayers of sir Thomas More, by the removal of such a 
 magistrate.! 
 
 At the time of his resignation he asserted, and circum- 
 stances, without reference to his character, demonstrate 
 the truth of his assertion, that his whole income, indepen- 
 dent of grants from the crown, did not amount to more 
 than 50Z. yearly. This was not more tlian an eighth part 
 of his gains at the bar and his judicial salary from the city 
 of London taken together, — so great was the proportion 
 in which his fortune had declined during eighteen years 
 of employment in offices of such trust, advantage, and 
 honor.l In this situation the clergy voted, as a testimoni- 
 al of their gratitude to him, the sum of 5000 pounds, 
 which was a hundred times the amount of his income ; 
 and, according to the rate of interest at that time, would 
 have yielded him 500/. a year, being ten times the yearly 
 sum which he could then call his own. But good and 
 
 * Roper, p. 48. 
 
 t " Honorifice jussit rex do mo testatum reddere quodsegre ad precea moH 
 me demiserit." — Jilori Ep. ad Erasm. 
 X Apology, c. X. English Works, p. 867. 
 
SIR THOxMAS MORE. t>9 
 
 honorable as he knew their messengers to be, of whom 
 Tunstall wets one, he declared that he would rather cast 
 their money into the sea than take it : not speaking from a 
 boastful pride, most foreign from his nature, but shrinking 
 with a sort of instinctive delicacy from the touch of money, 
 even before he considered how much the acceptance of 
 the gift might impair his usefulness. 
 
 His resources were of a nobler nature. The simplicity 
 of his tastes and the moderation of his indulgences ren- 
 dered retrenchment a task so easy to himself, as to be 
 scarcely perceptible in his personal habits. His fool or 
 jester, then a necessary part of a great man's establish- 
 ment, he gave to the lord mayor for the time being. His 
 first care was to provide for his attendants, by placing his 
 gentlemen and yeomen with peers and prelates, and his 
 eight watermen in the service of his successor sir T. Aud- 
 ley, to whom he gave his great barge, one of the most 
 indispensable appendages of his office in an age when car- 
 riages were unknown. His sorrows were for separation 
 from those whom he loved. He called together his children 
 and grandchildren, who had hitherto lived in peace and 
 love under his patriarchal roof, and, lamenting that he 
 could not as he was wont, and as he gladly would, bear 
 out the whole charges of them all himself, continue living 
 together as they were wont, he prayed them to give him 
 their counsel on this trying occasion. When he saw 
 them silent, and unwilling to risk an opinion, he gave them 
 his, seasoned with his natural gaiety, and containing some 
 strokes illustrative of the state of society at that time. — 
 " I have been brought up," quoth he, " at Oxford, at an inn 
 of Chancery, at Lincoln's Inn, and also in the king's court, 
 from the lowest degree to the highest, and yet I have at 
 present left me little above 1 OOZ. a year" (including the king's 
 grants) ; " so that now, if we like to live together, we must 
 be content to be contributaries together ; but we must not 
 fall to the lowest fare first : — we will begin with Lincoln's 
 Inn diet, where many right worshipful and of good years 
 do live full well ; which, if we find not ourselves the first 
 year able to maintain, then will we the next year go one 
 step to New Inn fare : if that year exceed our ability, we 
 will the next year descend to Oxford fare, where many 
 grave, learned, and ancient fathers are continually con- 
 versant. If our ability stretch not to maintain either, then 
 may we yet with bags and wallets go a begging together, 
 and hoping for charity at every man's door, to sing Salve 
 
70 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 regina; and so still keep' company and be merry to- 
 gether."* 
 
 On the Sunday following his resignation, he stood at 
 the door of his wife's pew in the church, where one of his 
 dismissed gentlemen had been used to stand, and making 
 a low obeisance to Alice as she entered, said to her with 
 perfect gravity, — "Madam, my lord is gone." He who 
 for seventeen years had not raised his voice in displeasure, 
 would not be expected to sacrifice the gratification of his 
 innocent merriment to the heaviest blows of fortune. Nor 
 did he at fit times fail to prepare his beloved children for 
 those more cruel strokes which he began to foresee. Dis- 
 coursing with them, he enlarged on the happiness of suf- 
 fering, for the love of God, the loss of goods, of liberty, 
 of lands, of life. He would further say unto them, that if 
 he might perceive his wife and children would encourage 
 him to die in a good cause, it should so comfort him, that 
 for very joy it would make him run merrily to death. 
 
 It must be owned that Henry felt the weight of this 
 great man's opinion, and tried every possible means to 
 obtain at least the appearance of his spontaneous approba- 
 tion. After the marriage with queen Anne, the king com- 
 manded Tunstall and other prelates to desire his attend- 
 ance at the coronation at Westminster. They wrote a 
 letter to persuade him to comply, and accompanied it with 
 the needful present of 20Z. to buy a court dress. Such 
 overtures he had foreseen ; for he said some time before 
 to Roper, when he first heard of that marriage, "God 
 grant, son Roper, that these matters within a while be not 
 confirmed with oaths !" He accordingly answered his 
 friends the bishops well : — " Take heed, my lords : by pro- 
 curing your lordships to be present at the coronation, they 
 will next ask you to preach for the setting forth thereof; 
 and finally to write books to all the world in defence 
 thereof." 
 
 This warning letter was not likely to be acceptable 
 to Henry. An opportunity presented itself for trying 
 another, in which it is very probable that he, in the first 
 instance, limited his plan to menace, which he thought 
 would be sufficient to subdue the obstinacy of More, whom 
 a man of violent nature might believe to be fearful, be- 
 cause he was peaceful. Ehzabeth Barton, called the holy 
 maid of Kent, who had been, for a considerable number of 
 years, afflicted by convulsive maladies, felt her morbid 
 
 ♦ Roper, pp. 51, 59. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 71 
 
 susceptibility so excited by Henry's profane defiance of the 
 Catholic church, and his cruel desertion of Catharine, his 
 faithful wife, that her pious and humane feelings led her 
 to represent, and probably to believe herself to be visited 
 by a divine revelation of those punishments which the 
 king was about to draw down on himself and on the king- 
 dom. In the universal opinion of the sixteenth century, 
 such interpositions were considered as still occurring. 
 The neighbors and visiters of the unfortunate young wo- 
 man believed her ravings to be prophecies, and the con- 
 tortions of her body to be those of a frame heaving and 
 struggling under the awful agitations of divine inspiration, 
 and confirmed that conviction of a mission from God, for 
 which she was predisposed by her own pious benevolence, 
 combined with the general error of the age. Both Fisher 
 and More appear not to have altogether disbelieved her 
 pretensions. More expressly declared, that he durst not 
 and would not be bold in judging her miracles.* In the 
 beginning of her prophecies, he had been commanded by 
 the king to inquire into her case ; and he made a report to 
 Henry, who agreed with More in considering the whole 
 of her miraculous pretensions as frivolous, and deserving 
 no farther regard. But in 1532, several monksf so mag- 
 nified her performances to him, that he was prevailed on 
 to see her ; but refused to hear her speak about the king, 
 saying to her, in general terms, that he had no desire to 
 pry into the concerns of others. Pursuant, as it is said, 
 to a sentence by or in the Star Chamber, she stood in the 
 pillory at Paul's Cross, acknowledging herself to be guilty 
 of the imposture of claiming inspiration, and saying that 
 she was tempted to this fraud by the instigation of the 
 devil. Considering the circumstances of the case, and 
 the character of the parties, it is far more probable that 
 the ministers should have obtained a false confession from 
 her hopes of saving her life, than that a simple woman 
 should have contrived and carried on, for many years, a 
 system of complicated and elaborate imposture. It would 
 not be inconsistent with this acquittal, to allow that, in 
 the course of her self-delusion, she should have been in- 
 duced, by some ecclesiastics of the tottering church, to 
 take an active part in these pious frauds, which there is 
 too much reason to believe that persons of unfeigned re- 
 ligion have been often so far misguided by enthusiastic 
 zeal, as to perpetrate or to patronize. 
 
 ♦ More's letter to Cromwell, probably written in the end of 1532. 
 t Of whom some were afterwards executed. 
 
72 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 But whatever were the motives or the extent of the 
 holy maid's confession, it availed her nothing ; for in the 
 session of parliament which met in January, 1534, she and 
 her ecclesiastical prompters were attainted of high treason, 
 and adjudged to suffer death as traitors : Fisher, bishop of 
 Rochester, with others, were all attainted of misprision or 
 concealment of treason, for which they were adjudged to 
 forfeiture and imprisonment during the king's pleasure.* 
 The holy maid, with her spiritual guides, suffered death 
 at Tyburn on the 21st of April ; she confirming her former 
 confession, but laying her crime to the charge of her com- 
 panions, if we may implicitly believe historians of the vic- 
 torious party .f 
 
 Fisher and his supposed accomplices in misprision re- 
 mained in prison according to their attainder. Of More 
 the statute makes no mention ; but it contains a provision, 
 which, when it is combined with other circumstances to be 
 presently related, appears to have been added to the bill for 
 the purpose of providing for his safety. By this provision, 
 the king's majesty, at the humble suit of his well beloved 
 wife, queen Anne, pardons all persons not expressly by 
 name attainted by the statute, for all misprision and con- 
 cealments relating to the false and feigned miracles and 
 prophecies of Elizabeth Barton, on or before the 20th day 
 of October, 1533. Now we are told by Roper,t "that sir 
 Thomas More's name was originally inserted in the bill," 
 the king supposing that this bill would to sir Thomas 
 More be so troublous and terrible, that it would force 
 him to relent and condescend to his request ; wherein his 
 grace was much deceived. Sir Thomas was personally to 
 be received in his own defence to make answer. But the 
 king, not liking that, sent the archbishop of Canterbury, 
 the chancellor, the duke of Norfolk, and Cromwell, to 
 attempt the conversion of More. Audley reminded More 
 of tlie king's special favor and many benefits. More ad- 
 mitted them ; but modestly added, that his highness had 
 most graciously declared that on this matter More should 
 be molested no more. When in the end they saw that no 
 persuasion could move him, they then said, "that the' 
 king's highness had given them in commandment, if they 
 could by no gentleness win him, in the king's name with 
 ingratitude to charge him, that never was servant to his 
 
 * 25 H. 8. c. 12. Stat, of the realm, iii. p. 446 
 t Such as Hall and Holinshed. 
 t P. 69. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 73 
 
 master so villainous,* nor subject to his prince so traitor- 
 ous as he." They even reproached him for having either 
 written in the name of his master, or betrayed his sove- 
 reign into writing, the book against Luther, which had so 
 deeply pledged Henry to the support of papal pretensions. 
 To these upbraidings he calmly answered, " The terrors 
 are arguments for children, and not for me. As to the fact, 
 the king knoweth, that after the book was finished by his 
 highness's appointment, or the consent of the maker, I 
 was only a sorter out and placer of the principal matters 
 therein contained." He added, that he warned the king 
 of the prudence of " touching the pope's authority more 
 slenderly, and that he had reminded Henry of the statutes 
 of premunire," whereby " a good part of the pope's pasto- 
 ral care was pared away ;" to which the impetuous mon- 
 arch answered, " We are so much bounden unto the see 
 of Rome, that we cannot do too much honor unto it." On 
 More's return to Chelsea from his interview with these 
 lords. Roper said to him — " I hope all is well, since you 
 are so merry ?" — " It is so, indeed," said More, " I thank 
 God." — " Are you, then, out of the parliament bill ?" said 
 Roper. — " By my troth, I never remembered it ; but," said 
 More, "I will tell thee why I was so merry ; because I had 
 given the devil a foul fall, and that with those lords I had 
 gone so far, as without great shame I never go back 
 again." A frank avowal of the power of temptation, and 
 a simple joy at having at the hazard of life escaped from 
 the farther seductions of the court, bestowing a greatness 
 on these few and familiar words, which scarcely belongs 
 to any other of the sayings of man. 
 
 Henry, incensed at the failure of wheedling and threat- 
 ening messages, broke out into violent declarations of his 
 resolution to include More in the attainder, and said that 
 he should be personally present to ensure the passing of 
 the bill. Lord Audley and his colleagues on their knees 
 besought their master to forbear, lest by an overthrow in 
 his own presence, he might be contemned by his own 
 subjects, and dishonored throughout Christendom for ever ; 
 adding, that they doubted not that they should find a more 
 meet occasion "to serve his turn;" for that in this case 
 
 * Like a slai^e or a villain. Tha word in the mouth of these gentlemen 
 appears to have been in a state of transition, about the middle point between 
 the original sense of" like a slave," and its modern acceptation of mean or 
 malignant oftenders. What proof is not supplied by this single fact in the 
 history (/f the language of the masters, of their conviction, that the slavery 
 maintained by them doomed the slaves to depravity ! 
 VOL. I. 7 
 
74 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 of the nun he was so clearly innocent, that men deemed 
 him far worthier of praise than of reproof. Henry was 
 compelled to yield.* Such was the power of defenceless 
 virtue over the slender remains of independence among 
 slavish peers, and over the lingering remnants of common 
 humanity which might still be mingled with a cooler policy 
 in the bosoms of subservient politicians. One of the worst 
 of that race, Thomas Cromwell, on meeting Roper in the 
 parliament house next day after the king assented to the 
 prayer of his ministers, told him to tell More that he was 
 put out of the bill. Roper sent a messenger to Margaret 
 Roper, who hastened to her beloved father with the tidings. 
 More answered her with his usual gayety and fondness, 
 " In faith, Megg, what is put off is not given up."f Soon 
 after, the duke of Norfolk said to him, — " By the mass ! 
 master More, it is perilous striving with princes ; the anger 
 of a prince brings death." — " Is that all, my lord ? then the 
 difference between you and me is but this — that I shall 
 die to-day, and you to-morrow." No life in Plutarch is 
 more full of happy sayings and striking retorts than that 
 of More. But the terseness and liveliness of his are justly 
 overlooked in the contemplation of that union of perfect 
 simplicity with moral grandeur, which, perhaps, no other 
 human being has so uniformly reached. 
 
 By a tyrannical edict, miscalled a law, in the same ses- 
 sion of 1533-4, it was made high treason, after the 1st of 
 May, 1534, by writing, print, deed, or act, to do or to pro- 
 cure, or cause to be done or procured, any thing to the 
 prejudice, slander, disturbance, or derogation of the king's 
 lawful matrimony with queen Anne. If the same offences 
 were committed by words, they were only misprision. The 
 same act enjoined all persons to take an oath to maintain 
 the ivhole contents of the statute, and an obstinate refusal 
 to make such oath was subjected to the penalties of mis- 
 prision. This statute prescribed no form for the oath. On 
 the 30th of March,! however, which was the day of closing 
 the session, the chancellor Audley, when the commons 
 were at the bar, but when they could neither deliberate 
 
 * The house of* lords addressed the king, prating him to declare whetl 
 it would be agreeable to his pleasure, that sir T. More and others should 
 not be heard in their own defence before " the lords in the royal senate 
 called the Stere Chamber." Nothing more appears on the journals relating 
 to this matter. Lords' Journ. 6th March, 1533. The journals prove the 
 narrative of Roper, from which the text is composed, to be as accurate as 
 it is beautiful. 
 
 f He spoke to her in his conversational liatin — " Quod differtur non 
 avfertur.*^ 
 
 X Lords' Joum. p. 82. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 75 
 
 nor assent, read the king's letters patent, containing the 
 form of an oath, and appointing the archbishop of Canter- 
 bury, the chancellor, the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, to 
 be commissioners for administering it. 
 
 Sir T. More was summoned to appear before these com- 
 missioners at Lambeth, on Monday the 13th of April, 
 1534. " On other occasions he evermore used, at his de- 
 parture from his wife and children, whom he tenderly 
 loved, to have them brought to his boat, and there to 
 kiss them, and bid them all farewell. At that time he 
 would suffer none of them to follow him forth of the gate, 
 but pulled the wicket after him, and shut them all from 
 him, and with Roper and four servants took boat towasrds 
 Lambeth. He sat for a while ; but at last, his mind being 
 lightened and relieved by those high principles to which 
 with him every low consideration yielded, whispered — 
 " Son Roper ! I thank our Lord, the field is won." — " As I 
 conjectured," says Roper, " it was for that his love to God 
 conquered his carnal affections." An account of his con- 
 duct during the examination at Lambeth was sent by him 
 to his darling child, Margaret Roper.* After having read 
 the statute and the form of the oath, he declared his read- 
 iness to swear that he would maintain and defend the 
 order of succession to the crown as established by parlia- 
 ment. He disclaimed all censure of those who had im- 
 posed, or on those who had taken, the oath, but declared 
 it to be impossible that he should swear to the whole con- 
 tents of it, without offending against his own conscience ; 
 adding, that if they doubted whether his refusal proceeded 
 from pure scruple of conscience or from his own phanta- 
 sies, he was willing to satisfy their doubts by oath. The 
 commissioners urged that he was the first who refused it : 
 they showed him the subscriptions of all the lords and 
 commons who had sworn ; they held out the king's sure 
 displeasure at the single recusant. When he was called 
 on a second time, they charged him with obstinacy for not 
 mentioning any special part of the oath which wounded 
 his conscience. 
 
 He answered, that if he were to open his reasons for 
 refusal farther, he should exasperate the king still more. 
 He offered, however, to assign his reasons, if the lords 
 would procure his highness's gracious assurance that the 
 avowal of the grounds of his defence should not be con- 
 sidered as offensive to the king, nor prove dangerous to 
 
 * English Works, 1428—1430. 
 
76 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 himself. The commissioners answered that such assur- 
 ances would be no defence against a legal charge. He 
 offered, however, to trust himself to the king's honor. 
 Cranmer took some advantage of More's candor, urging 
 that, as he had disclaimed all blame of those who had 
 sworn, it was evident that he thought it only doubtful 
 whether the oath was unlawful ; and desired him to con- 
 sider whether the obligation to obey the king was not 
 absolutely certain. He was struck with the subtilty of this 
 reasoning, which took him by surprise, but not convinced 
 of its solidity. Notwithstanding his surprise, he seems 
 to have almost touched the true answer, that, as the oath 
 contained a profession of opinion, such, for example, as 
 the lawfulness of the king's marriage, on which men 
 might differ, it might be declined by some and taken by 
 others with equal honesty. Cromwell, whom More be- 
 lieved to favor him, loudly swore that he would rather 
 see his only son had lost his head than that More had 
 thus refused the oath. Cromwell bore the answer to 
 the king, and chancellor Audley distinctly enjoined him 
 to state very clearly More's willingness to swear to the 
 succession. " Surely," said More, " as to swearing to 
 the succession, I see no peril." Cromwell was not a good 
 man, but the gentle virtue of More subdued even the bad. 
 He never more returned to his house, being committed to 
 the custody of the abbot of Westminster, in which he 
 continued four days ; and at the end of that time he was 
 conveyed to the Tower,* on Friday the 17th of April, 
 1534. 
 
 Before the end of the session, 1534, two statutesf were' 
 passed to attaint More and Fisher of misprision of treason, 
 specifying the punishment to be imprisonment of body, 
 and loss of goods. By that which relates to More, thei. 
 king's grants of land to him in 1523 and 1525 are re- 
 sumed ; it is alleged that he refused the oath since the, 
 1st of May of 1534, with an intent to sow sedition; and 
 he is reproached for having demeaned himself in other 
 
 * Roper tells us that the king, who had intended to desist from his im- 
 portunities, was exasperated by queen Anne's clamor to tender the oath 
 at Lambeth. But he detested that unhappy lady, whose marriage was the 
 occasion of More's ruin ; and though Roper was an unimpeachable witneii 
 relating to Sir Thomas's conversation, he is of less weight as to what passed 
 in the interior of the palace. The ministers might have told such a story j 
 to excuse themselves to Roper. Anne could have had no opportunity orj 
 contradiction. 
 
 1 26 H. VIII. c. 22, 23. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 77 
 
 respects ungratefully and unkindly to the king, his ben- 
 efactor. 
 
 In the session which began on the 3d of November, 
 1534, * an act was passed which ratifies and professes to 
 recite .the form of oath promulgated on the day of the 
 prorogation ; and enacts that the oath above recited shall 
 be reputed to be the very oath intended by the former 
 act of succession, f though there were, in fact, some sub- 
 stantial and important interpolations in the latter act; 
 such as the words " most dear and entirely beloved, lawful 
 wife, queen Anne," which tended to render that form 
 still less acceptable than before, to the scrupulous con- 
 sciences of More and Fisher. 
 
 That this statement of the legislative measures which 
 affected them is necessary to a consideration of the le- 
 gality of More's trial, which must be owned to be a part 
 of its justice, will appear in its proper place. In the mean 
 time, the few preparatory incidents which occurred during 
 thirteen months' imprisonment, must be briefly related. 
 His wife Alice, though an excellent housewife, yet in her 
 visits to the Tower handled his misfortunes and his scru- 
 ples too roughly. "Like an ignorant, and somewhat 
 worldly, woman, she bluntly said to him, ' How can a 
 man taken for wise, like you, play the fool in this close 
 filthy prison, when you might be abroad at your liberty, if 
 you would but do as the bishops have done .^' " She en- 
 larged on his fair house at Chelsea, " his library, gallery, 
 garden, and orchard, together with the company of his 
 wife and children." He bore with kindness in its most 
 unpleasing form, and answered her cheerfully after his 
 manner, which was to blend religious feelings with quaint- 
 ness and liveliness. " Is not this house as nigh heaven 
 as mine own ?" She answ^ered him in a homely exclama- 
 tion of contempt,! of which the origin or meaning cannot 
 now be ascertained, " THlly valle, tUly vaZie."§ He treated 
 her harsh language as a wholesome exercise for his 
 patience, and replied with equal mildness, though with 
 more gravity, " Why should I joy in my gay house, when, 
 if I should rise from the grave in seven years, I should not 
 fail to find some one there who would bid me to go out of 
 doors, for it was none of mine ?" It was not thus that 
 his Margaret Roper conversed or corresponded with him 
 
 * 26. H. VIII. c. 2. 
 
 t 25 H. VIII. c. 22. $ 9. Compare 1 Lords' Journ. 82 
 
 t Roper, 78. 
 
 $ Nares's Glossary, London, 1822. - • 
 
 7* 
 
78 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 during his confinement. A short note written to her a 
 little while after his commitment, with a coal (his only 
 pen and ink) begins, " Mine own good daughter," and is 
 closed in the following fond and pious words : — " Written 
 with a coal, by your tender loving father, who in his poor 
 prayers forgetteth none of you, nor your babes, nor your 
 good husbands, nor your father's shrewd wife neither. 
 Shortly after, mistaking the sense of a letter from her, 
 which he thought advised him to compliance, he wrote a 
 letter to her which rebukes her supposed purpose with the 
 utmost vehemence of affection, and the deepest regard to 
 her judgment. " I hear many terrible things towards me ; 
 but they all never touched me, never so near, nor were 
 they so grievous unto me as to see you, my well beloved 
 child, in such a piteous and vehement manner, labour to 
 persuade me to a thing whereof I have of pure necessity, 
 for respect unto myne own soul, so often given you so 
 precise an answer before. The matters that move my 
 conscience I have sundry times shown you, that I wiU 
 disclose them to no one.* Margaret's reply was worthy 
 of herself. She acquiesces in his " faithful and delectable 
 letter, the faithful messenger of his virtuous mind," and 
 almost rejoices in his victory over all earthborn cares. , 
 She concludes thus : — " Your own most loving obedient 
 daughter and bedeswoman, f Margaret Roper, who de- 
 sireth above all worldly things to be in John Wood's 
 stede to do you some service." This John Wood was 
 the servant permitted to attend sir Thomas More in the 
 Tower. After another interval, however, pity prevailed < 
 so far as to obtain the king's license for Margaret Roper 
 to resort to him in the Tower. It would be blamable 
 to seek for bad motives in the case of so merciful an 
 alleviation of punishment. 
 
 On her first visit, after gratefully performing their 
 accustomed devotions, his first care was to soothe her 
 afflicted heart by the assurance that he saw no cause to 
 reckon himself in worse case there than in his own 
 house. On another occasion he asked her how queen 
 Anne did. "In faith, father," said she, "never better." 
 — "Never better, Megg?" quoth he; "alas! Megg, it 
 pitieth me to remember into what misery, poor soul, 
 she shall shortly come." J Various attempts continued 
 still to be made to cajole him; partly, perhaps, with 
 
 ♦ English WTorks, 1430. 
 
 t Id. 1431. Bedesman — one who praya fbr another. 
 
 X Roper, 72. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 79 
 
 the hope that his intercourse with the beloved Mar- 
 garet might have softened him. Cromwell told him that 
 the king was still his good master, and did not wish to 
 press lus conscience. The lords commissioners went 
 twice to the Tower to tender the oath to him. But neither 
 he nor Fisher would advance farther than their original 
 declaration of perfect willingness to maintain the settle- 
 ment of the crown, which, being a matter purely political, 
 was within the undisputed competence of parliament. They 
 refused to include in their oath any other matter on ac- 
 count of scruples of conscience, which they forbore to 
 particularize, lest they might thereby furnish their enemies 
 with a pretext for representing their defence as a new 
 crime. As their real ground, which was, that it would be 
 insincere in them to declare upon oath, that they believed 
 the king's marriage with Anne to be lawful, they might, 
 by the statement of that ground in defending themselves 
 against a charge of misprision of treason, have incurred 
 the penalties of high treason. 
 
 Two difficulties occurred in reconciling the destruction 
 of sir Thomas More with any form or color of law. The 
 first of them consisted in the circumstance that the naked 
 act of refusing the oath was, even by the late statute, 
 punishable only as a misprision ; and though concealment 
 of treason was never expressly declared to be only a 
 misprision, till the statute to that effect was passed under 
 Philip and Mary,* chiefly perhaps occasioned by the case 
 of More, yet it seemed strange thus to prosecute him for 
 the refusal, as an act of treason, after it had been positive- 
 ly made punishable as a misprision by a general statute, 
 and after a special act of attainder for misprision had been 
 passed against him. Both these enactments were, on the 
 supposition of the refusal being indictable for treason, 
 absolutely useless, and such as tended to make More be- 
 lieve that he was safe as long as he remained silent. The 
 second has been already intimated, that he had yet said 
 nothing which could be tortured into a semblance of those 
 acts derogatory from the king's marriage, which had been 
 made treason. To conquer this last difficulty, sir Robin 
 Rich, the solicitor general, undertook the infamous task of 
 betraying More into some declaration, which might be 
 pretended to be treasonable, in a confidential conversation, 
 and under pretext of familiar friendship. What the suc- 
 cess of this flagitious attempt was, the reader will see in 
 
 * 1 & 2 Phil, and Mar, c. 10. s. 8. 
 
80 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 the account of More's trial. It appears from a letter of 
 Margaret Roper, apparently written in the winter of 1584-5, 
 that his persecutors now tried another expedient for van- 
 quishing his constancy, by restraining him from church, 
 and, she adds, " from the company of my good mother and 
 his poor children."* More, in his answer, expresses his 
 wonted affection in very familiar, but in most significant, 
 language : — " If I were to declare in writing how much 
 pleasure your daughterly loving letters gave me, a peck of 
 coals would not suffice to make the pens." So confident 
 was he of his innocence, and so safe did he deem himself 
 on the side of law, that " he believed some new causeless 
 suspicion, founded upon some secret sinister information," 
 had risen up against him.f 
 
 On the 2d or 3d of May, 1535, sir Thomas More in- 
 formed his dear daughter of a visit from Cromwell, at- 
 tended by the attorney and solicitor general, and certain 
 civilians, at which Cromwell urged to More the statute 
 which made the king head of the church, and required 
 an answer on that subject. More replied ; " I am the 
 king's true faithful subject, and daily bedesman : I say no 
 harm, and do no harm ; and if this be not enough to keep 
 a man alive, in good faith I long not to live." This inef- 
 fectual attempt was followed by another visit from Cran- 
 mer, the chancellor, the duke of Suffolk, the earl of 
 Wiltshire, and Cromwell, who, after much argument, 
 tendered an oath, by which he was to promise to make 
 answers to questions which they might put ; J and on his 
 decisive refusal, Cromwell gave him to understand that, 
 agreeably to the language at the former conference, " his 
 grace would follow the course of his laws towards such 
 as he should find obstinate." Cranmer, who too generally 
 complied with evil counsels, but nearly always labored to 
 prevent their execution, wrote a persuasive letter to 
 Cromwell, earnestly praying the king to be content with 
 More and Fisher's proffered engagement to maintain the 
 succession, which would render the whole nation unani- 
 mous on the practical part of that great subject. 
 
 On the 6th of May, 1535, almost immediately afler the 
 defeat of every attempt to practise on his firmness, More 
 was brought to trial at Westminster ; and it will scarcely 
 be doubted, that no such culprit stood at any European bar 
 for a thousand years. It is rather from caution than from 
 
 * Engl. Works, 1446. f Id. 1447. 
 
 J More to Margaret Ropor. Engl. Works, 1452. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 81 
 
 necessity, that the ages of Roman domination are excluded 
 from the comparison. It does not seem that in any moral 
 respect Socrates himself could claim a superiority. It is 
 lamentable that the records of the proceedings against 
 such a man should be scanty. We do not certainly know 
 the specific offence of which he was convicted. There 
 does not seem, however, to be much doubt that the prose- 
 cution was under the act " for the establishment of the 
 king's succession," passed in the session 1533-4,* which 
 made it high treason "to do any thing to the prejudice, 
 slander, disturbance, or derogation of the lawful marriage" 
 between Henry and Anne. Almost any act, done or de- 
 clined, might be forced within the undefined limits of such 
 vague terms. In this case the prosecutors probably repre- 
 sented his refusal to answer certain questions which, 
 according to them, must have related to the marriage, his 
 observations at his last examination, and especially his 
 conversation with Rich, as overt acts of that treason, inas- 
 much as it must have been known by him that his conduct 
 on these occasions tended to create a general doubt of the 
 legitimacy of the marriage. 
 
 To the first alleged instance of his resistance to the 
 king, which consisted in his original judgment against the 
 marriage, he answered in a manner which rendered reply 
 impossible ; " that it could never be treason for one of the 
 king's advisers to give him honest advice." On the like 
 refusal respecting the king's headship of the church, he 
 answered, that " no man could be punished for silence." 
 The attorney general said, that the prisoner's silence was 
 " malicious." More justly answered, that " he had a right 
 to be silent where his language was likely to be injuriously 
 misconstrued." Respecting his letters to bishop Fisher, 
 they were burnt, and no evidence was offeredof their con- 
 tents, which he solemnly declared to have no relation to 
 the charges. And as to the last charge, that he had called 
 the act of settlement " a two-edged sword, which would 
 destroy his soul if he complied with it, and his body if he 
 refused," it was answered by him, that " he supposed the 
 reason of his refusal to be equally good, whether the 
 question led to an offence against his conscience, or to the 
 necessity of criminating himself." 
 
 Cromwell had before told him, that though he was suf- 
 fering perpetual imprisonment for the misprision, the pun- 
 ishment did not release him from his allegiance, and he 
 
 ♦25H. VIII.,c.22 
 
0» BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 was amenable to the law for treason. Cromwell overlooked 
 the essential circumstances, that the facts laid as treason 
 were the same on which the attainder for misprision was 
 founded. Even if that were not a strictly maintainable 
 objection in technical law, it certainly showed the flagrant 
 injustice of the whole proceeding. 
 
 The evidence, however, of any such strong circum- 
 stances attendant on the refusal as could raise it into an act 
 of treason, must have seemed defective ; for the prosecutors 
 were reduced to the necessity of examining Rich, one of 
 their own number, to prove circumstances of which he 
 could have had no knowledge, without the foulest treach- 
 ery on his part. Rich said, that he had gone to More as a 
 friend, and asked him, if an act of parliament had made 
 Rich king. More would not acknowledge him. Sir Thom- 
 as said, " Yes, sir, that I would." — " If they declared me 
 pope, would you acknowledge me ?" — " In the first case, I 
 have no doubt about temporal governments ; but suppose 
 the parliament should make a law that God should not be 
 God, would you then, Mr. Rich, say that God should not 
 be God ?" — " No," says Rich, " no parliament could make 
 such a law." Rich went on to swear, that sir Thomas 
 More added, "No more could the parliament make the 
 king supreme head of the church." More denied the 
 latter part of Rich's evidence altogether ; which is, indeed, 
 inconsistent with the whole tenor of his language. More 
 was then compelled to expose the profligacy of Rich's 
 character. " I am," he said, " more sorry for your perjury, 
 than for mine own peril. Neither I, nor any man, ever 
 took you to be a person of such credit as 1 could commu- 
 nicate with on such matters. We dwelt near in one parish, 
 and you were always esteemed very light of your tongue, 
 and not of any commendable fame. Can it be likely to 
 your lordships, that I should so unadvisedly overshoot 
 myself, as to trust Mr. Rich with what I have concealed 
 from the king, or any of his noble and grave counsellors ?" 
 
 The credit of Rich was so deeply wounded, that he was 
 compelled to call sir Richard Southwell, and Mr. Palmer, 
 who were present at the conversation, to prop his tottering 
 evidence. They made a paltry excuse, by alleging that 
 they were so occupied in removing More's books, that they 
 did not listen to the words of this extraordinary conversa- 
 tion. The jury,* in spite of these circumstances, convicted 
 
 * Sir T. Palmer, sirT. Bent, G. Lovell, esquire, Thomas Burbage, esquire, 
 G. Chamber, gentleman, Edward Stockmore, William Brown, Jasper Leake, 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 83 
 
 sir Thomas More. Chancellor Audley, who was at the 
 head of the commission, of which Spelman and Fitzherbert, 
 eminent lawyers, were members, was about to pronounce 
 judgment, when he was interrupted by sir Thomas More, 
 who claimed the usual privilege of being heard to show 
 that judgment should not be passed. 
 
 More urged, that he had so much ground for his scruples 
 as at least to exempt his refusal from the imputation of 
 disaffection, or of what the law deems to be malice. The 
 chancellor asked him once more how his scruples could 
 balance the weight of the parliament, people, and church 
 of England ; a topic which had been used against him at 
 every interview and conference since he was brought pris- 
 oner to Lambeth. The appeal to weight of authority in- 
 fluencing conscience was, however, smgularly unfortunate. 
 More answered, as he had always done, " Nine out of ten 
 of Christians now in the world think with me. Nearly all 
 the learned doctors and holy fathers who are already 
 dead, agree with me ; and therefore I think myself not 
 bound to conform my conscience to the councell of one 
 realm, against the general consent of all Christendom." 
 Chief justice Fitzjames concurred in the sufficiency of 
 the indictment ; which, after the verdict of the jury, was 
 the only matter before the court. 
 
 The chancellor then pronounced the savage sentence 
 which the law directed in cases of treason. More, having 
 no longer any measures to keep, openly declared, that 
 after seven years' study, " he could find no color for holding 
 that a layman could be head of the church." The com- 
 missioners once more offered him a favorable audience for 
 any matter which he had to propose. — " More have 1 not 
 to say, my lords, but that as St. Paul held the clothes of 
 those who stoned Stephen to death, and as they are both 
 now saints in lieaven, and shall continue there friends for 
 ever ; so I verily trust, and shall therefore right heartily pray, 
 that though your lordships have now here on earth been 
 judges to my condemnation, we may, nevertheless, here- 
 after cheerfully meet in heaven, in everlasting salvation."* 
 
 Sir W. Kingston, " his very dear friend," constable of 
 the Tower, as, with tears running down his cheeks, he 
 conducted his prisoner from Westminster, condoled with 
 sir T. More, who endeavored to assuage the sorrow of his 
 friend by the consolations of religion. The same gentle- 
 Thomas Bollington, John Parnell, Richard Bellamy, and G. Stoakea, gentle- 
 men, were the jury. 
 •'' Roper, p. 90. 
 
84 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 man said afterwards to Roper, — " I was ashamed of my- 
 self when I found my heart so feeble, and his so strong/' 
 
 Margaret Roper, his good angel, watched for his landing 
 at the Tower wharf. " After his blessing upon her knees 
 reverently received, without care of herself, pressing in 
 the midst of the throng, and the guards that were about 
 him with halberts and bills, she hastily ran to him, and 
 openly, in sight of them all, embraced and kissed him. 
 He gave her again his fatherly blessing. After separation, 
 she, all ravished with the entire love of her dear father, 
 suddenly turned back again, ran to him as before, took him 
 about the neck, and divers times kissed him most lovingly, 
 — a sight which made many of the beholders weep and 
 mourn."* 
 
 Thus tender was the heart of the admirable woman, who 
 had at the same time the greatness of soul to strengthen 
 her father's fortitude, by disclaiming the advice for which 
 he, having mistaken her meaning, had meekly rebuked 
 her, to prefer life to right. 
 
 On the 14th of June, he was once more examined by 
 four civilians in the Tower. " He was asked, first, whether 
 he would obey the king as supreme head of the church of 
 England on earth immediately under Christ ? To w^hich he 
 said, that he could make no answer. Secondly, whether he 
 would consent to the king's marriage with queen Anne, and 
 ctffirm the marriage ivith the lady Catharine to have been un- 
 lawful ? To which he answered, that he did never speak 
 nor meddle against the same. And, thirdly, whether he is 
 not bound to answer the said question, and to recognize 
 the headship as aforesaid'? To which he said, that he 
 could make no answer."! 
 
 It is evident that these interrogatories, into which some 
 terms peculiarly objectionable to More were now for the 
 first time inserted, were contrived for the sole purpose of 
 reducing the illustrious victim to the option of uttering a 
 lie, or of suffering death. The conspirators against him 
 might, perhaps, have a faint idea tliat they had at length 
 broken his spirit. If he persisted, they hoped that he 
 might be represented as bringing destruction on himself 
 by his own obstinacy. 
 
 Such, however, was his calm and well-ordered mind, 
 that he said and did nothing to provoke his fate. Had he 
 given affirmative answers, he would have sworn falsely : 
 
 * Roper, p. 90. 
 
 t Eaglish Works, 1458, printed, London, 1557 >and Roper, p. 92. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 86 
 
 he was the martyr of veracity. He perished only because 
 he was sincere. On Monday, the 5th of July, 1535, he 
 wrote a farewell letter to Margaret Roper, with his usual 
 materials of coal. It contained blessings to all his chil- 
 dren by name, with a kind remembrance even to one of 
 Margaret's maids. Adverting to their last interview, on 
 the quay, he says, — " I never liked your manner towards 
 me better than when you kissed me last ; for I love when 
 daughterly love and dear charity have no leisure to look 
 to worldly courtesy." 
 
 On Tuesday, the 6th of July (St Thomas's eve), 1535, 
 sir Thomas Pope, " his singular good friend," came to him 
 early with a message from the king and council, to say 
 that he should die before nine o'clock of the same morn- 
 ing. " The king's pleasure," said Pope, " is that you shall 
 not use many words." — " I did purpose," answered More, 
 " to have spoken somewhat, but I will conform myself to 
 the king's commandment, and I beseech you to obtain from 
 him that my daughter Margaret may be present at my 
 burial." — "The king is already content that your wife, 
 children, and other friends shall be present thereat." The 
 lieutenant brought him to the scaffold, which was so weak 
 that it was ready to fall, on which he said, merrily, " Mas- 
 ter lieutenant, I pray you see me safe up, and for my coming 
 down let me shift for myself." When he laid his head on 
 the block, he desired the executioner to wait till he had re- 
 moved his beard, for that had never offended his highness. 
 
 He has been censured by some for such levities at the 
 moment of death. These are censorious cavils, which would 
 not be worthy of an allusion if they had not occasioned some 
 sentences of as noble reflection, and beautiful composition, 
 as the English language contains. " The innocent mirth, 
 which had been so conspicuous in his life, did not forsake 
 him to the last. His death was of a piece with his life ; 
 there was nothing in it new, forced, or affected. He did 
 not look upon the severing his head from his body as 
 a circumstance which ought to produce any change in 
 the disposition of his mind ; and as he died in a fixed and 
 settled hope of immortality, he thought any unusual de- 
 gree of sorrow and concern improper."* 
 
 According to the barbarous practice of laws which vain- 
 ly struggle to carry their cruelty beyond the grave, the 
 head of sir Thomas More Avas placed on London bridge. 
 His darling daughter, Margaret, had the courage to pro- 
 
 * Spectator, No. 349. 
 VOL. I. 8 
 
86 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 cure the head to be taken down, that she might exercise 
 her affection by continuing to look on a head so dear. 
 Carrying her love beyond the grave, she desired that it 
 might be buried with her when she died, which was about 
 nine years after the fate of her father. The remains of 
 this precious relic are said to have been since observed in 
 the burial place, lying on what had been her bosom. Her 
 male descendants appear to have been soon extinct. Her 
 descendants through females are probably numerous.* 
 This admirable woman resembled her father in mind, in 
 manner, in the features and expression of her countenance, 
 and in her form and gait. Her learning was celebrated 
 throughout Christendom ; it is seldom that literature wears 
 a more agreeable aspect than when it becomes a bond of 
 union between such a father and such a daughter. His eldest 
 son, John, married Anne Crisacre, the heiress of an estate 
 at Barnborough, near DoncEister, still held by his posterity 
 through females.f The mansion of the Mores still subsists 
 there. The last male descendant of sir Thomas More, was 
 Thomas More, a Jesuit, who was principal of the college 
 of Jesuits at Bruges, and died at Bath in 1795, having sur- 
 vived his famous order, and, according to the appearances 
 of that time, his ancient religion ; as if the family of More 
 were one of the many ties which may be traced through 
 the interval of two centuries and a half between the revo- 
 lutions of religion and those of government. 
 
 The letters and narratives of Erasmus diffused the story 
 of More's fate throughout Europe. Cardinal Pole bewail- 
 ed it with elegance and feeling. It filled Italy, the most 
 cultivated portion of Europe, with horror. Paulo Jovio 
 called Henry a Phalaris, though we shall in vain look in 
 the story of Phalaris, or of any other real or legendary ty- 
 rant, for a victim worthy of being compared to More. The 
 English ministers throughout Europe were regarded with 
 averted eyes as the agents of a monster. At Venice, 
 Henry, after this deed, was deemed capable of any crimes. 
 He was believed there to have murdered Catharine, and 
 to be about to murder his daughter Mary.J The Catholic 
 zeal of Spain, and the resentment of the Spanish people 
 against the oppression of Catharine, quickened their sym- 
 pathy with More, and aggravated their detestation of Hen- 
 ry. Mason, the envoy at Valladolid, thought every pure 
 
 * One of them, Mr. James Hintoo Baverstock, iuaerted his noble pedi 
 gree from Margaret, in 1819, in a copy of More's English Works, at thit 
 moment before mo. 
 
 t HuBtPt's South Yorkshire, pp. 374, 375. * Ellis's Letters. 
 
SIR THOMAS MORS. 87 
 
 Latin phrase too weak for More, and describes him by a 
 phrase as contrary to the rules of that languge as " thrice 
 greatest"* would be to the idiom of ours. When intelli- 
 gence of his death was brought to the emperor Charles 
 v., he sent for sir T. Elliot, the English ambassador, and 
 said to him, " My lord ambassador, we understand that the 
 king your master has put his wise counsellor sir Thomas 
 More to death." Elliot, abashed, made answer that he 
 understood nothing thereof. " Well," said the emperor, 
 " it is too true ; and this we will say, that if we had been 
 master of such a servant, we should rather have lost the 
 best city in our dominions than have lost such a worthy 
 counsellor." "Which matter," says Roper, in the con- 
 cluding words of his beautiful narrative, " was by sir T. 
 Elliot told to myself, my loife, to Mr. Clement and his 
 wife, and to Mr. Heywood and his wife."f 
 
 Of all men nearly perfect, sir Thomas More had, per- 
 haps, the clearest marks of individual character. His 
 peculiarities, though distinguishing him from all others, 
 were yet withheld from growing into moral faults. It is 
 not enough to say of him that he was unaffected, that he 
 was natural, that he was simple ; so the larger part of 
 truly great men have been. But there is something home- 
 spun in More which is common to him with scarcely any 
 other, and which gives to all his faculties and qualities 
 the appearance of being the native growth of the soil. 
 The homeliness of his pleasantry purifies it from show. 
 He walks on the scaffold clad only in his household good- 
 ness. The unrefined benignity with which he ruled his 
 patriarchal dwelling at Chelsea enabled him to look on 
 the axe without being disturbed by feeling hatred for the 
 tyrant. This quality bound together his genius and 
 learning, his eloquence and fame, with his homely and 
 daily duties, bestowing a genuineness on all his good 
 qualities, a dignity on the most ordinary offices of life, 
 and an accessible familiarity on the virtues of a hero 
 and a martyr, which silences every suspicion that his ex- 
 cellences were magnified. 
 
 He thus simply performed great acts, and uttered great 
 thoughts, because they were familiar to his great soul. 
 The charm of this inborn and homebred character seems 
 as if it would have been taken off by polish. It is this 
 
 * " Ter maximua ille Morus." — Ellis. 
 
 t Instead of Heywood, perhaps wo ought to read " Heron ?" In that 
 case the three daughters of sir Thomas More would be present. Mrs. 
 Roper was the eldest, Mrs. Clement the second, and Cecilia Heron the 
 youngest. 
 
88 BRITISH BTATESMEN. 
 
 household character which relieves our notion of him from 
 vagueness, and divests perfection of that generality and 
 coldness to which the attempt to paint a perfect man is 
 so liable. 
 
 It will naturally, and very strongly, excite the regret 
 of the good in every age, that the life of this best of 
 men should have been in the power of him who was 
 rarely surpassed in wickedness. But the execrable Henry 
 was the means of drawing forth the magnanimity, the 
 fortitude, and the meekness of More. Had Henry been 
 a just and merciful monarch, we should not have known 
 the degree of excellence to which human nature is 
 capable of ascending. Catholics ought to see in More, 
 that mildness and candor are the true ornaments of all 
 modes of faith. Protestants ought to be taught humility 
 and charity from this instance of the wisest and best of 
 men falling into, what they deem, the most fatal errors. 
 All men, in the fierce contests of contending factions, 
 should, from such an example, learn the wisdom to fear 
 lest in their most hated antagonist they may strike down 
 a sir Thomas More ; for assuredly virtue is not so narrow 
 as to be confined to any party ; and we have in the case 
 of More, a signal example that the nearest "approach to 
 perfect excellence does not exempt men from mistakes 
 which we may justly deem mischievous. It is a pregnant 
 proof that we should beware of hating men for their opin- 
 ions, or of adopting their doctrines because we love and 
 venerate their virtues. 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 My literary occupations are of a nature which render it im- 
 portant to me that I should not be considered as answerable 
 for the opinions of others concerning persons and events, which 
 I may soon be called upon to treat in another form. I therefore 
 wish to add here, though somewhat out of place, that I have not 
 seen any portion of this collection but the above sketch, and 
 that I know nothing of the contents of any other part of it. 
 
 Some particulars m the life of sir T. More I am obliged to 
 leave to more fortunate inquirers. They are, indeed, very 
 minute : but they may appear to others worthy of being ascer- 
 tained, as they appeared to me, from their connection with 
 the life of a wise and good man. 
 
 The records of the privy council are preserved only since 
 1540, so that we do not exactly know the date of his admission 
 
SIR THOMAS MORE. 89 
 
 into that body. The time when he was knighted (then a mat- 
 ter of some moment) is not known. As the whole of his life 
 passed during the great chasm in writs for election and returns 
 of members of parliament, from 1477 to 1542, the places for 
 which sir T. More sat, and the year of his early opposition to a 
 subsidy, are unascertained; notwithstanding the obliging exer- 
 tion of the gentlemen employed in the repositories at the 
 Tower, and in the Rolls' chapel. We know that he was 
 speaker of the house of commons in 1523 and 1524.* Browne 
 Willis owns his inability to fix the place ;t but he conjectured 
 it to have been " either Middlesex, where he resided, or Lan- 
 caster, of which duchy he was chancellor." But that laborious 
 and useful writer would not have mentioned the latter branch 
 of his alternative, nor probably the former, if he had known 
 that More was not chancellor of the duchy till two years after 
 his speakership. 
 
 An anecdote in More's chancellorship is connected with an 
 English phrase, of which the origin is not quite satisfactorily 
 explained. An attorney in his court, named Tubb, gave an 
 account in court of a cause in which he was concerned, which 
 the chancellor (who with all his gentleness loved a joke) 
 thought so rambling and incoherent, that he said at the end of 
 Tubb's speech, '• This is a tale of a tub ;" plainly showing that 
 the phrase was then familiarly known. 
 
 The learned Mr. Douce hg.s informed a friend of mine, that 
 in Sebastian Munster's Cosmography, there is a cut of a ship, 
 to which a whale was coming too close for her safety, and of 
 the sailors throwing a tub to the whale, evidently to play with. 
 The practice of throwing a tub or barrel to a large fish, to 
 divert the huge animal from gambols dangerous to a vessel, 
 is also mentioned in an old prose translation of The Ship of 
 Fools. 
 
 These passages satisfactorily explain the common phrase of 
 throwing a tub to a whale ; but they do not account for leaving 
 out the zchale, and introducing the new word tale. The tran- 
 sition from the first phrase to the second is a considerable 
 stride. It is not, at least, directly explained by Mr. Donee's 
 citations ; and no explanation of it has hitherto occurred which 
 can be supported by proof. It may be thought probable that, in 
 process of time, some nautical wag compared a rambling story, 
 which he suspected of being lengthened and confused, in or- 
 der to turn hi-s thoughts from a direction not convenient to the 
 story teller, with the tub which he and his shipmates were 
 wont to throw out to divert the whale from striking the bark, 
 and perhaps said, ''This tale is like our tub to the whale." 
 The comparison might have become popular; and it might 
 gradually have been shortened into '' a tale of a tub." 
 
 * Rolls of Parliament in 1 Lords' Journal. 
 t Notit. Parliament, iii. 112. 
 
 8* 
 
90 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 TO 
 THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM THE RECORDS OF THE CITY OF LONDON RE- 
 LATING TO THE APPOINTMENT OF SIR THOMAS MORE TO BE 
 UNDER-SHERIFF OF LONDON, AND SOME APPOINTMENTS OF 
 HIS IMMEDIATE PREDECESSORS AND OF HIS SUCCESSOR. 
 
 (27th September. A. D. 1496.) 
 
 " Commune consilium tentum die Martij Vicesimo 
 
 Septimo die Septembr~ Anno Regni Regis Henf 
 
 Septimi duo decimo. 
 
 " In isto ComOn Consilio Thomas Sail et Thomas Marowe con- 
 
 firmati sunt in Subvic" Civitati : London p anno sequent, &c." 
 
 (1497.) 
 
 " Comune ConsiliQ tent" die Lune xxv*° die Sept* 
 anno Regni Regs Henr" vii. xiij°. 
 " Isto die Thomas Marowe et Ed* Dudley confirmat" sunt in 
 Sub Vic" Cit' London p anno seqU." 
 
 (1498 and 1501.) 
 
 Similar entries of the confirmation of Thomas Marowe and 
 Edward Dudley are made in the 14th, 15th, 16th, and 17th 
 Henry VII.; and at a court of aldermen, held on the 
 
 (1502.) 
 
 17th Nov. 18 Henry 7., the following entry appears : — 
 " Ad hanc Cur" Thomas Marowe uns sub vicecomita sponte 
 resignat offiih sua." 
 
 And at a common council held on the same aay, 
 is entered — 
 
 " In isto Communi Consilio Radils adye Gentilman elect~ 
 est in una Subvic" Civitats London loco Thome Marwe Gen- 
 tilman qui illud officio sponte resignavit, capiend" feod" con- 
 suet"." 
 
 " C66 ConsiliQ tent die Martis iij° die Septembris 
 anno Regni Reg* Henrici Octavi Secundo. 
 " Eodih die Thorns More Gent elect" est in una Subvic" Ci- 
 vitats London loc" Ric" Broke Gent qui nup elect" fuit in Re- 
 cordator London." 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 91 
 
 " Martis viij die Mali 6^^ Henry 8. 
 " Court of Aldermen. 
 
 " Yt ys agreed that Thomas More Gent oon of Under-sheryfe« 
 of London which shall go ov"^ the Kings Ambasset into fflaun- 
 ders shall occupie his Rowme and office by his sufficient 
 Depute untyll his cumyng home ageyn" 
 
 " Martis xj die Marcii 7 Henry VHP** 
 " Court of Aldermen. 
 
 " Ye shall sweare that ye shall kepe the Secrets of this 
 Courte and not to disclose eny thing ther spoken for the coen 
 welthe of this citie that myght hurt eny psone or brother of the 
 seyd courte onles yt be spoken to his brothr or to other 
 which in his conscience and discrecon shall thynk yt to be for 
 the coen welthe of this eitie. So help you God." 
 
 " Jovis xiij die Marcii 7 Henry 8. 
 " Court of Aldermen. 
 
 " Itm ad ista Cur"^ Thomas More and Wills'" Shelley Sub- 
 vice^* Ci^" London juf sunt ad articlm supdcm spect xj die 
 marcii." 
 
 '• Vems 23 July, 10 Henry 8. 
 " Court of Aldermen. 
 '•Ad istam Cur" Thomas More Gent un Subvic" Ci*" in 
 Comput~ Pulletr London libe" et sponte Surr" et resign officm 
 pdcm in mariuMaioris et Aldror." 
 
 " Coie Consiliu tenf die Venis xxiij die Julii anno 
 regni regis Henrici Octavi decimo.' 
 
 ** Isto die, Johes Pakyngton Gent admissus est in unu*" sub- 
 vie"^ Civitats London loco Thome More qui spont et libe"" re- 
 signavit Officiu" illud in Man" Maioris aldrOr et Cois consilii. 
 Et jur est &c." 
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 
 
 1471—1530. 
 
 Thomas Cardinal Wolsey, the celebrated prime 
 minister and favorite of Henry VIIL, was born at Ipswich, 
 in Suffolk, in 1471. According to Cavendish, his gentle- 
 man usher and biographer, he was " an honest poor man's 
 
92 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 son," under which vagueness of expression it is supposed 
 an attempt is made to conceal the fact of his father having 
 been a butcher.* That his father was a man at least of 
 moderate wealth, is evident from his will, in which, among 
 other legacies, he bequeaths " all his land and tenements " 
 in the parish of St. Nicholas, and his " free and bond lands " 
 in St. Stoke, to his widow ; and, indeed, may be inferred 
 from the circumstance of his son's entering the university 
 of Oxford at a very early age. Wolsey was eminently 
 favored by nature in grace and beauty of person. Hence 
 Shakspeare happily says of him, that he " was fashioned 
 to much honor from the cradle." Of those incidents and 
 circumstances of his early domestic life, which might 
 throw lijffht on the formation of his character, we unfortu- 
 nately possess no information. Cavendish merely tells 
 us, that from his childhood he was " very apt to learning ;" 
 and he himself used, in the very zenith of his fortune, to 
 appeal, with laudable vanity, to his university appellation 
 of the hoy bachelor, as the best proof of his early devotion 
 to literature. 
 
 He was entered, most probably with a view to the 
 church as a means of livelihood, — the church being then 
 the great ladder of ambition to men of lowly birfli, — of 
 Magdalen College, Oxford, where he became a bachelor 
 of arts at fifteen years of age, an occurrence which, as he 
 himself told Cavendish, " was a rare thing, and seldom 
 seen." He was also, at a very early age, elected fellow 
 of Magdalen ; and having been subsequently admitted to 
 ordersjf was appointed master of the preparatory school 
 
 * There being no direct testimony to the fact of Wolsey's father having 
 been a butcher, a foolish controversy has been waged concerning its prob- 
 ability. That he was a man of humble origin, — " an honest poor man," 
 as Cavendish designates him, — is admitted on all hands ; and it matters 
 little what may have been his vocation, so far as the pretensions of his 
 son to power and distinction are concerned. In the text we have assumed 
 him to have been a butcher, because such was the belief of his contom- 
 ])oraries. He is distinctly alluded to as the butcher-dog in the satirical 
 poem, erroneously ascribed, according to Mr. Singer (edition of Caven- 
 dish's Life,) to Skelton ; and by that dialogist's epitiict, Hall tells us, the 
 populace usually characterized him. Luther calls him a butcher's son in 
 his Colloquies ; and Polydore Vergil also speaks of his father as a butcher. 
 That his father died in comparative pasy circumstances, as stated in the 
 text, is evident from his will, which the reader will find copied in the Ap- 
 pendix to Mr. Singer's excellent edition of Cavendish. 
 
 t At the date of his father's will, 81st of September, 1496, Wolsey was 
 5i5 years of age ; and as it should seem was not yet in orders. " I wyl'l that 
 (^Thomas my son be a prest within a yer next after my decesse, than I 
 wyll that he syng for me and my frends, be the space of a yer, and he for 
 to have for his salary X more, and if the seyd Thomas my son be not a 
 prest than I wyll that another honest prest syng for mo." The expression, 
 however, implic? that Wolsey was preparing to take orders. 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 93 
 
 of his college. It is no less creditable to the head than to 
 the heart of Wolsey that he was, from the commencement 
 to the end of his career, imbued with a deep sense of the 
 importance of the office of instructor of youth ; and that 
 in his school he displayed that perseverance, self-control, 
 and unremitting vigilance, so essential to the business of 
 education, and, it may be added, so indispensable to a 
 penniless votary of ambition. During his residence at 
 Magdalen College, he enjoyed the society of Erasmus, 
 and, it is said, also of sir T. More. 
 
 An accident — as it turned out, a fortunate one — prevent- 
 ed Wolsey from probably slumbering out his days in the 
 cloisters of his alma mater. It happened that there were 
 among his pupils three sons of Grey, marquis of Dorset (a 
 collateral ancestor of Lady Jane Grey), who, owing to 
 Henry's distrustfulness of the more ancient and wealthy 
 nobility, even though they had been enemies of the house 
 of York, then lived in rural retirement. During the 
 Christmas holidays in 1499, Wolsey attended his " three 
 honorable scholars" to their father's house ; when he so 
 gained upon the marquis by his fascinating powers of 
 conversation, and by the progress which his pupils had 
 made under his care, that that nobleman presented him to 
 the rectory of Lymington in Somersetshire, a benefice in 
 the gift of his family. Wolsey was in the 29th year of 
 his age when he obtained this his first church preferment, 
 for which he immediately relinquished his school and other 
 collegiate appointments. Before, however, he left the 
 university, he had given proofs of the love of literature, 
 enterprising magnificence, and patronage of art, which, 
 were the virtues of his character ; and had given occasion 
 for the suspicion of that disregard of any quality in means 
 except their immediate efficacy, which was his predomi- 
 nant and fatal vice. He was elected bursar of his college 
 in 1498, at which time Erasmus was at Oxford ; and he 
 zealously concurred with that eminent scholar and genius 
 (whose venal praise and dispraise of Wolsey are alike 
 disgraceful to literature) in encouraging the study of the 
 Greek writers, or, as it was then called, the new learning. 
 At the same time Wolsey had erected the tower of Magda- 
 len College chapel, known by the name of Wolsey'^s Tower, 
 admired for the chaste simplicity and elegance of its 
 architecture. The building of this tower involved Wolsey 
 in pecuniary embarrassments which affected his reputa- 
 tion : for he is affirmed to have fraudulently applied the 
 college funds, over which his office of bursar gave him 
 
94 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 some control, to tlie erection of the edifice ; and is even 
 reported to have used violent means to supply himself 
 from the college treasury with the necessary money. The 
 same taste for building attended and embarrassed him in 
 every stage of his career : for no sooner was he settled 
 in his "cure" than he set about repairing and beauti- 
 fying the church and parsonage house ; and to this day 
 Esher, Christ Church college Oxford, and Hampton 
 Court remain monuments of his wealth, love of magnif- 
 icence, and genius for architecture. Never, indeed, was 
 there a clergyman to whom the designation in the epi- 
 gram — "ut donem pastor et cBdificem,''^ — would more hap- 
 pily apply. 
 
 Wolsey remained at the rectory of Lymington but two 
 years, during which an incident, curious in many of its 
 bearings, occurred, that is not unworthy of our notice. 
 Wolsey, being of a " free and sociable temper" (we quote 
 the Biographia Britannica), went with some of his neigh- 
 bors to a fair in an adjacent town, where his reverence is 
 said to have got so drunk* as to create some disorders ; 
 for which he was punished by a sir Amyas Paulet, a 
 neighboring justice of the peace, with the " ignominious 
 durance" of the public stocks of the town. This incident 
 is interesting as illustrative of the manners of the times. 
 The fact of a beneficed clergyman being thus held up to 
 popular derision for an indecorum which many of his suc- 
 cessors, even in the present day, might term an act of 
 good fellowship, jars much with our notions of modern 
 refinement. But it clearly shows the fruitfulness of the 
 English soil for the seeds of the approaching Reformation ; 
 and proves that our Catholic ancestors were not so priest- 
 ridden, nor those priests so openly dissolute in their habits, 
 as Protestant zeal has repeatedly asserted. It is probable 
 that Wolsey considered the affront to be aimed at the 
 meanness of his birth ; for, being of a temper less prone 
 to resent injuries than contempt, he held it in angry recol- 
 lection till fortune placed the offender within his power. 
 Though prudence and magnanimity should have prevented 
 his raking up the transaction from probable oblivion, - 
 Wolsey, on his becoming lord chancellor, sent for sir 
 
 * The ground for this assertion is not known, and should seem to have 
 no earlier authority than sir John Harrington. Cavendish professes igno- 
 rance of the cause which, " Sir, by your leave, made the knight so bold to 
 set the ackoolmaster by the feet during pleasure." It may be refnarkod that 
 Storer, in his metrical life of Wolsey, represents him as the injured party, 
 " Wrong'd by a knight for no desert or mine."— See Singer^s edition tf 
 Cavmdui. 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 95 
 
 Amyas, and, sternly reprimanding him for his afiront to 
 the rector of Lymington, commanded him to remain with- 
 in the bounds of the Temple during pleasure. The mode 
 by which, after a confinement of five or six years, the 
 unlucky justice at length mitigated the resentment of the 
 vindictive minister is characteristic. He embellished the 
 exterior of his residence, situate at the gate of the Middle 
 Temple, with the arms, the hat, and other badges of 
 distinction proper to Wolsey as a cardinal ; and by this 
 architectural oflTering to the haughty churchman's vanity 
 obtained his liberty. 
 
 On leaving Lymington (the emoluments of the living 
 of which he, however, did not resign for seven years after, 
 having in the mean time obtained two papal dispensations 
 for holding a plurality of benefices), Wolsey entered the 
 service of Deane, archbishop of Canterbury, as domestic 
 chaplain, and soon after that of sir John Nanfar, treasurer 
 of Calais, in the same capacity. The circumstance of his 
 being thus received into the household of the archbishop 
 of Canterbury abundantly disproves an assertion of some 
 of his biographers, that, overwhelmed with shame for the 
 ill odor in which his dissolute conduct at his cure of 
 Lymington caused him to be held, he fled from it suddenly 
 on the death, in 1501, of his patron, the marquis of Dorset ; 
 and is, indeed, hardly reconcilable with the scandalous 
 tradition of his inebriety which we have just noticed. 
 Though nominally but chaplain, sir John Nanfar, owing to 
 the infirmity of old age, soon committed to him the whole 
 management of his office, in which Wolsey gave so 
 much satisfaction, that on the knight's return to England, 
 he recommended him with such earnestness to the king, 
 that Henry (VII.), ever willing to secure the services of 
 men of practical ability, made him one of his chaplains. 
 
 This was the step to fortune which Wolsey had long 
 panted for, and which he failed not speedily to improve, 
 as it afforded full scope for the display of all those natural 
 and acquired advantages in which he is admitted to have 
 excelled. We have said that he was eminently favored 
 by nature in dignity of person and manner : he was, more- 
 over, celebrated, according to Cavendish, for " a special 
 gift of natural eloquence, with a filed tongue to pronounce 
 the same ; so that he Avas able with the same to persuade 
 and allure all men to his purpose;" or, as Shakspeare 
 phrases it, he was " exceeding wise, fair spoken, and 
 persuading." But he possessed endowments still more 
 rare and valuable. Besides his great fluency of diction 
 
96 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 and practised self-command, Wolsey had a quick and 
 correct perception of character, and of the secret springs 
 of action, and a singular power of shaping his conduct and 
 conversation according to circumstances. Hence his ex- 
 traordinary influence over those in power with whom he 
 came in contact, which seemed to partake of the nature 
 of fascination, and which was not the less paramount and 
 enduring that it was unostentatious, and seemed to but 
 blindly follow where, in fact, it guided. With the gay, 
 youthful, and prodigal Henry VHL, Wolsey was betimes 
 the magnificent courtier — ^the frolicsome companion — the 
 state Mentor, and the commentator on Thomas Aquinas — 
 the grave minister, and the mirthful favorite ; while with 
 the wary and calculating founder of the Tudor dynasty he 
 was remarkable for the laborious assiduity, business- 
 regularity, and monotonous steadiness of his habits. Such 
 power of self-control, combined with his splendid abilities 
 and insinuating address, could not fail to recommend 
 Wolsey to Henry and his ministers, particularly when it 
 was observed (as we are informed by Cavendish) that, 
 after celebrating mass before the king, "he spent not 
 forth the day in vain idleness, but gave his attendance 
 upon those whom he thought to bear most rule in the 
 council, to be most in favor with the king," — chiefly upon 
 Fox, bishop of Winchester, the most influential of Henry's 
 ministers, and sir Thomas Lovell,* master of the wards, 
 both of whom early appreciated and proclaimed the value 
 of the chaplain's civil services. To these statesmen 
 Wolsey was indebted for all that a man of his abilities and 
 ambition required — an opportunity of evincing his zeal 
 and address in the king's immediate service. The circum- 
 stances of the occasion on which he was thus employed, 
 though well known to the readers of history, are worthy 
 of being quoted with some fulness, as they were always 
 referred to by Wolsey himself as the incident which 
 opened the way to his subsequent greatness. 
 
 Henry was at the time negotiating his intended mar- 
 riage with Margaret, duchess dowager of Savoy, the 
 emperor Maximilian's only daughter ; and it was necessa- 
 ry to employ a person of great address to adjust with the 
 emperor in person some delicate points connected with 
 
 * Wolsey had not only the address and good qualities necessary to the 
 acquisition of such friends, but also retained them to the last. The affection 
 of bishop Fox is apparent in the last letter which he wrote to him; and sir 
 Thomas Lovoll's esteem was manifested at the close of his life : for he 
 leaves him in his will " a standing cup of goldc, and one hundred marks in 
 golde." — StJiger^s JtTotes. 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 97 
 
 the marriage. Fox and Lovell joined in earnestly recom- 
 mending Wolsey, as the fittest person for the commission. 
 " The king, giving ear unto them, and being a prince of 
 excellent judgment and modesty, commanded them to 
 bring his chaplain, whom they so much commended, be- 
 fore°his grace's presence. At whose repair thither, to 
 prove the wit of his chaplain, the king fell in communica- 
 tion with him, in matters of weight and gravity : and per- 
 ceiving his wit to be very fine, thought him sufficient to 
 be put in trust and authority with this embassy ; and com- 
 manded him to prepare himself for this enterprise and 
 journey, and for his depeche to repair to his grace, and 
 his trusty counsellors aforesaid, of whom he should receive 
 his commission and instructions ; by means whereof," 
 continues Cavendish, " he had then a due occasion to 
 repair from time to time to the king's presence, who 
 perceived him more and more to be a very wise man, and 
 of a good entendement." 
 
 Wolsey, having thus satisfied the wary monarch of his 
 competency, despatched his commission with a celerity 
 which, notwithstanding the extraordinarily increased facil- 
 ities of modern conveyance, may perhaps still be consider- 
 ed great if not surprising. He left the king at Richmond at 
 four o'clock on Sunday, went to Gravesend from London 
 by water that evening in less than three hours, thence 
 posted it to Dover, where he arrived next morning as the 
 passage-boat was about to sail. By it he was conveyed 
 over to Calais before noon, whence he got to Bruges, 
 where Maximilian was staying, by Tuesday morning. 
 Wolsey obtained an immediate audience of the emperor, 
 and pressed that his return might be expedited. He 
 received his answer late in the evening, started fi-om 
 Bruges next morning, and arrived in Richmond the same 
 night. On Thursday morning he attended at court, and 
 threw himself at the king's feet. Henry, supposing he 
 had protracted his departure, was displeased at seeing 
 him, and began to reprove him for the dilatory execution 
 of his orders : on which Wolsey, to the king's great sur- 
 prise, presenting his letters of credence, replied, " If it may 
 please your highness, I have already been with the 
 emperor, and despatched your affairs, I trust, to your 
 grace's contentation." — " But on second thoughts," said 
 the king, " I found that somewhat was omitted in your 
 orders, and have sent a messenger after you with fuller 
 instructions." — " Yes, forsooth, sire," quoth Wolsey, " I 
 encountered him yesterday by the way ; and, having no 
 
 VOL. I. 9 
 
98 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 understanding by your grace's letter of your pleasure there- 
 in, have notwithstanding been so bold, upon mine own 
 discretion (perceiving that matter to be very necessary in 
 that behalf"), to despatch the same. And, forasmuch as I 
 have exceeded your grace's commission, I most humbly 
 require your gracious remission and pardon."* The king, 
 pleased with the whole transaction, gave Wolsey his 
 royal thanks, " for his good and speedy exploit," and 
 commanded him to attend afler dinner : when, says his 
 biographer, he reported his embassy to the king in coun- 
 cil with such a graceful deportment, and so eloquent 
 language, that he received the utmost applause ; all de- 
 claring him to be a person of such capacity and diligence 
 that he deserved to be further employed. Henceforth 
 Wolsey was regarded as on the road to power and fortune, 
 being very soon after installed in the deanery of Lincoln, 
 then the most valuable benefice under a bishopric ; to 
 which were added the prebends of Stowe, Walton, and 
 Brinhald. The death of Henry at this time (1509) 
 alone prevented his receiving further marks of the royal 
 favor. 
 
 Wolsey's introduction to the new king, Henry VHI., 
 then in the bloom and promise of his youth, is usually 
 attributed to his patron bishop Fox's jealousy of his rival, 
 the earl of Surrey, the late king's high treasurer. It is 
 said that the prelate, observing that lord Surrey had totally 
 eclipsed him in favor, introduced Wolsey to the young 
 prince, with the hope that he might rival Surrey in those 
 arts which win and secure the attachment of the youthful 
 heart, and yet be content to act in the cabinet a part 
 subordinate to Fox himself. But he knew little of the 
 workings of Wolsey's proud and aspiring mind, when he 
 calculated upon his resting satisfied in a subordinate 
 capacity, while there existed the remotest possibility of 
 his reaching a higher. In a very short time, by his ex- 
 traordinary address, he not only supplanted Surrey in the 
 royal favor, but also his patron Fox in the youthful mon- 
 arch's trust and confidence. On the accession of Henry, 
 he was appointed king's almoner, an office which kept 
 
 * Id his metrical life of Wolsey, Storer thus speaks of this expedition :— 
 
 *' The Argonautic vessel never pass'd 
 
 With swifter course along the Colchian main, 
 
 Than my small bark, with fair and speedy blast, 
 Convey'd me forth, and re-convey'd again : 
 
 Thrice had Arcturus driven his restless wain. 
 
 And heaven's bright lamp the day had thrice revived, 
 
 From first departure till I last arrived." 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 99 
 
 him in constant attendance upon the person of the monarch 
 in his hours of relaxation, and which thereby enabled him 
 to acquire such an ascendancy over the mind of Henry 
 as was attributed to necromancy, and lasted for many years 
 the wonder of Europe. Within a year after Henry's 
 mounting the throne, he presented his almoner with the 
 splendid mansion and gardens of his father's ravenous but 
 too faithful minister Empson (who had just been most 
 illegally attainted at the shrine of popularity), which ad- 
 joined his own palace of Bridewell, in Fleet Street ; and 
 appointed him rector of Turrington, in Exeter, canon of 
 Windsor, registrar and soon after chancellor of the order 
 of the Garter, reporter of the proceedings in the star- 
 chamber, and member of the privy council ; the prebend 
 of Bugthorp and deaneries of York and Hereford were 
 added next year. 
 
 The means by which Wolsey acquired and retained his 
 extraordinary ascendancy over Henry are such as might 
 be inferred from his quick insight into character, and 
 power of assimilating his discourse and actions according- 
 ly. The language of Cavendish on this point is unusually 
 graphic : — 
 
 " In whom the king conceived such a loving fantasy, 
 and in especial for that he was the most earnest and read- 
 iest among all the council to advance the king's only will 
 and pleasure, without any respect to the case ; the king, 
 therefore, perceived him to be a meet instrument for the 
 accomplishment of his devised will and pleasure, called him 
 more near unto him, and esteemed him so highly, that his 
 estimation and favor put all other ancient counsellors out 
 of their accustomed favor that they were in before; inso- 
 much that the king committed all his will and pleasure 
 unto his disposition and order. Who wrought so all his 
 matters, that all his endeavor was only to satisfy the king's 
 mind; knoiinng right well, that it was the very vein and 
 right course to hnng him to high promotion. The king 
 was young and lusty, disposed all to mirth and pleasure, 
 and to follow his desire and appetite, nothing minding to 
 travail in the busy affairs of this realm : the which the 
 almoner perceiving very well, took upon him, therefore, to 
 disburden the king of so weighty a charge and trouble- 
 some business ; putting the king in comfort that he shall 
 not need to spare any time of his pleasure for any busi- 
 ness that necessarily happens in the council, as long as he 
 being there, and having the king's authority and command- 
 ment, doubted not to see all things sufficiently furnished 
 
100 BRITISH STAfESMEN. 
 
 and perfected ; the which would first make the king privy 
 to all such matters as should pass through their hands, be- 
 fore he would proceed to the finishing or determining of 
 the same, whose mind and pleasure he would fulfil and 
 follow to the uttermost, wherewith the king was wonderly 
 pleased. And whereas the other ancient counsellors 
 would, according to the office of good counsellors, divers 
 times persuade the king to have sometime an intercourse 
 in to the council, there to hear what was done in weighty 
 matters, the which pleased the king nothing at all, for he 
 loved nothing worse than to be constrained to do any 
 thing contrary to his royal will and pleasure; and that 
 knew the almoner very well, having a secret intelligence 
 of the king's natural inclination, and so fast as the other 
 counsellors advised the king to leave his pleasures and to 
 attend to the affairs of his realm, so busily did the almoner 
 persuade him to the contrary ; which delighted him much, 
 and caused him to have the greater affection and love to 
 the almoner." 
 
 Henry, owing to his father's jealous care to remove him 
 from the inclination and means of acquiring a knowledge 
 of public business, had spent his youth in the pursuits of 
 literature and scholastic theology, and had acquired a 
 relish for both. In Wolsey he found at once a fellow- 
 student and a master, who encouraged his propensity with 
 a " most filed tongue and ornate eloquence." Henry was 
 prone to fi-olic, and the usual excesses and amusements 
 of youth and high spirits, and found in his reverend 
 expounder of the subtleties of the Thomists, not a check 
 nor a restraint, but one who took the lead in every enter- 
 tainment, who sported,* jested, sang, and even danced, 
 unmindful or regardless of the decorum sought for in 
 a clergyman. No doubt this unbecoming pliancy of 
 conduct would, as it eventually did, in the king's more 
 adult years, lessen his respect for his favorite ; but 
 youth is unsuspicious and confiding, and easily won and 
 deceived by the flattery of apparent sympathy. Wolsey, 
 moreover, was too good a judge of human nature to sup- 
 pose that Henry's vigorous understanding would be con- 
 
 * " He (Wolsey) came unto the king and waited upon him, and was no 
 man so obseauious and serviceable, and in ail games and sports the first 
 and next at nand, and as a captain to courage others, and a gay finder out 
 of new pastimes to obtain favor with all. He spied out the nature and 
 disposition of the king's playfellows, and of all that were great, and whom 
 he spied m<;et for his purpose him he flattered and made faithful with great 
 purposes." — Tyndale, Prac. Prel, To the same effect writes Polydors 
 Vergil.— See Turner^s Modern History qf England. 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 101 
 
 tent to while away his time between court revels and 
 Thomas Aquinas ; and therefore, in the intervals of amuse- 
 ment, introduced business, and warily insinuated those 
 maxims of conduct which he was desirous his master 
 should adopt. He observed to him, that while he intrusted 
 his aflfairs to his father's counsellors, he had indeed the 
 advantage of employing men of wisdom and experience, 
 but tnen who owed not their promotion to his own personal 
 favor, and who scarcely thought themselves accountable 
 to him for the exercise of their authority ; that by the 
 factions, and cabals, and jealousies, which had long pre- 
 vailed among them, they more obstructed the advancement 
 of his affairs than they promoted it by the knowledge 
 which age and practice had conferred upon them; that 
 while he thought proper to pass his time in those pleasures 
 to which his age and royal fortune invited him, and in 
 those studies which would in time enable him to sway the 
 sceptre with absolute authority, his best system of govern- 
 ment would be to intrust his authority into the hands of 
 some one person, who was the creature of his will, and 
 who could entertain no view but that of promoting his 
 service ; and that if the minister had also the same relish 
 for pleasure with himself, and the same taste for literature, 
 he could more easily, at intervals, account to him for his 
 whole conduct, and introduce his master gi-adually into 
 the knowledge of public business ; and thus, without 
 tedious restraint or application, initiate him in the science 
 of government.* The bait took ; Henry, without perceiv- 
 ing his design, entered into all his views, and Wolsey be- 
 came sole and absolute minister, with a more uncontrolled 
 authority than any other British subject has ever possess- 
 ed. This happened in 1512, three years after the accession 
 of Henry. 
 
 The public life of Wolsey from this time properly be- 
 longs to general history ; or, rather, we should perhaps 
 be more correct in saying, that the history of England 
 from the year 1512 to 1529 is nothing more than the 
 history of Wolsey's insatiable ambition. He soon con- 
 stituted himself the sole avenue to Henry's favor,f and 
 suitors of every rank found it expedient to ensure his 
 
 * Hume's History of England, on the autliority of Lord Herbert and Poiy- 
 dore Vergil. The historian is too partial to W^olsoy's memory. 
 
 t So early as 1513, the queon (Catharine) corresponded with him confiden- 
 tially: — " Maister Almoner, for the paync ye take remembringto write to 
 me soo often, I thanke you for it wh al my liert." In 1514, Mary, the 
 Bister of Henry, then queen of France, addresses her " lovynge frend the 
 archehischop of Yorke," to use his influence with the king to permit lady 
 
 9* 
 
102 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 mediation by flattery and presents, which showered in 
 on him so fast, that, says Cavendish, " he wanted nothing 
 either to please his fantasy or to enrich his coffers, for- 
 tune so smiled upon him." The two rival ministers, 
 Surrey, then duke of Norfolk, and Fox, who perceived 
 too late that the servant whom he had advanced had be- 
 come his master, quailed before his ascendancy. The 
 former, not long after, finding that the king's extravagance 
 far outran his revenue, was glad to resign his office of 
 treasurer, and retire from public life. Wolsey immediate- 
 ly took upon himself the vacant office, and, by the most 
 arbitrary aggressions of authority, contrived to supply his 
 master with the means of indulging his prodigality and love 
 of magnificence. Fox too withdrew from court, and 
 thought it prudent to confine himself for the remainder of 
 his days to the care of his diocese. Brandon, the duke of 
 Suffolk, who was married to Henry's sister, " affected also 
 to live in privacy," from disgust at Wolsey's ascendancy. 
 Thus was he left, without a rival, to enjoy the whole pow- 
 er and favor of his sovereign. 
 
 It would, however, be an error to impute all this upstart 
 ascendancy to the influence of Wolsey's personal char- 
 acter. Much of it was owing to the political circum- 
 stances to which the recent changes in the succession to the 
 throne gave birth. The Tudor dynasty was an usurpation : 
 its founder was an upstart, and therefore regarded with a 
 
 Guldeford to reside with her in France. The letter written to AVolsey by 
 Mary on her becomins a widow is worth quoting at lengtli : — 
 
 " My nanne good Lord, I recommend me to you (sometimes written zou) 
 and thankyng you for yor kynde and lovyng letter, dysyryng you of yor 
 good contenance and good lessonea that you hath gyffen to me ; my lord, I 
 pray you as my trust ys in you, for to remember me to the king my brother, 
 for sowcho causses and bepynns as I have for to do ; for as now I have no 
 nother to put my trust in but the kyng my brother and you. And as yt 
 shall pies the kyng my brother and hys counsell, I wil be bordered. And 
 so I pray you, my lord, to show hys grace, seying that the kyng (Louis XIL) 
 my howsbande ys departed to God, of whos sole God pardon. And wher aa 
 you avyso me that I shulde macke no promas, my lord, I trust the kyng 
 my brother and you wole not reckon in me soche chyldhode. I trust I have 
 BO bordered my selffe so sens that I came better, and so I trust to conteneu. 
 Yff there be any thynge that 1 may do for you, I wolde be gJade for to do 
 yt in thys partes. I shal be glade to do yt for you. No more to you at thii 
 time but Jesus preserve you. 
 
 " Wretten at Pares, the x day of January, 1515, 
 
 " By your lowyng 
 " frende Mart, 
 «♦ To my Lorde of Yorke. " Qoene of France." 
 
 In the same tone of respect and confidence Margaret, queen of Scotland, 
 Henry's eldest sister, writes, — " My lorde, I thynke ryght longe vyhil I 
 speke vyth you ; for next the kyng's grace my most trust is in you, and you 
 may doo me most good of any.'' — EUis''s Historical Leti.crs, First Series, 
 vol. i. 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 108 
 
 jealous eye by such of the ancient and more wealthy 
 nobility as had escaped the slaughter of the wars of the 
 Roses. Hence it was the constant purpose — alike con- 
 genial with the temper, and suitable to the policy, of the 
 princes of the house of Tudor — to restrain the ascendancy, 
 and as much as possible destroy the political influence, of 
 the ancient nobility. As might be expected from the 
 sordid calculating disposition of the first and ablest of 
 these princes, Henry VH. employed, as the chief means 
 to this end, fine and confiscation ; by which he at once 
 gratified his ruling passion of avarice, and impoverished 
 and intimidated those great families, of whose restless 
 ambition, hereditary affection to the house of York, or 
 jealousy of his usurped title, he was distrustful. The 
 more arrogant and impetuous, and therefore less cautious 
 and dissembling, temper of his son and successor, made 
 him hesitate less in shedding the blood of his highest 
 and most illustriously-descended nobles ; and we find that 
 towards the close of his sanguinary reign, his jealousy of 
 every great man became so ferocious, that not all the 
 services to the Tudor family of the house of Howard, nor 
 the ties of blood, nor the strong feelings of friendship, 
 could save the life of the high-minded earl of Surrey, whose 
 only crime was the possession of those talents and virtues 
 which have secured him the admiration of posterity ; and 
 that nought but the timely death of the tyrant himself 
 snatched from the same scaffold the father of that accom- 
 plished nobleman, the duke of Norfolk, notwithstanding 
 his long-tried loyalty, numerous personal claims upon the 
 gratitude of his sovereign, and, what perhaps should have 
 availed him more, his ignominious servitude to that sove- 
 reign's will. A natural result of this policy of depressing 
 the nobles, was the placing the management of public af- 
 fairs in the hands of those who had no other recommenda- 
 tion to the monarch's favor than their abilities and de- 
 voted zeal in his service. To princes so greedy of 
 absolute power as those of the house of Tudor, and so 
 consequently jealous of all who might prove obstacles to 
 their attainment of it, no ministers could be more agreeable 
 than those who were the mere creatures of their will, and 
 who, as such, would not for their own sakes entertain any 
 design not tending to promote the views of him or her to 
 whom they felt they were wholly indebted for their 
 political, and, as it might happen, even natural existence. 
 Previously to the era of the Reformation, such ministers 
 were usually furnished from the ranks of the clergy, who 
 
104 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 held in their own hands the learning of the times, and who 
 were themselves drawn, without distinction of birth, from 
 all classes of the community. 
 
 The church, as wc before remarked, was in those days 
 what the bar is at present, — the ladder by which the lowly 
 born might ascend to political eminence ; of which state 
 of things a more remarkable instance need not be quoted 
 than the fact of sir Thomas More's being distinguished 
 as the first layman who for centuries had filled the office 
 of chancellor. Hence the facilities to Wolsey's elevation, 
 which show that his humble origin was by no means a bar 
 to his advancement. 
 
 It is not possible to furnish a consistent narrative of 
 Wolsey's life without touching upon those great political 
 events of the early part of the 16th century which more 
 properly belong to the historian. A rapid glance must, 
 however, suffice. 
 
 At the accession of Henry VIH., Italy was the centre 
 of all the wars and negotiations of the European princes ; 
 and the great object of these wars and negotiations was 
 the preserving what was then, for the first time, clearly 
 understood — the balance of power between the great 
 monarchies. Never did this balance seem better secured, 
 nor the general tranquillity more likely to be long main- 
 tained, than when Julius IL, the most warlike and en- 
 terprising of the successors of St. Peter, united the kings 
 of Europe against the republic of Venice by the League 
 of Cambray. Having humbled that proud republic, the 
 ambitious pontiff next directed his energies to the nobler 
 design of freeing Italy from the yoke of the barbarians 
 — the title by which all foreigners were then designated 
 by the Italians. 
 
 The expelling the French out of their new conquest of 
 Milan was the first object of his ambition ; and for that 
 purpose he solicited the military aid of England, by 
 sending Henry a sacred rose, perfumed with musk, with a 
 letter stating that it had been blessed by his own hands, 
 and anointed with holy oil ; and by holding out hopes to 
 him that the title of Most Christian King, considered the 
 most precious jewel in the crown of France, should be the 
 reward of his services. Julius obtained in Henry a 
 willing ally ; for he was then in the bright morning of his 
 youth,— sanguine, inexperienced, sincere, chivalrous, and 
 inspired at the same time with an earnest zeal to protect 
 the pope against the "sacrilegious aggression" of the 
 king of France, and to assert his own claims upon that 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 105 
 
 kingdom; anS thus indulge the national enmity of his 
 subjects, and his own passion for military renown. War 
 having been duly declared against Louis, Henry, surround- 
 ed by the martial portion of his subjects, who were eager 
 to display their valor on a foreign soil,* and thus emulate 
 the fame of their ancestors' continental victories, and 
 attended by Wolsey, as victualler of the forces, set sail from 
 Dover in June, 1512. The victory of Guingette, better 
 known by the name of the " battle of spurs," and the suc- 
 cessful sieges of Terouenne and Tournay, though of little 
 utility to England, gratified the warlike ardor of its mon- 
 arch and his subjects, and confirmed the idea entertained 
 of his power by the contemporary princes of Europe. The 
 first opportunity that presented itself during the cam- 
 paign of rewarding his favorite was eagerly embraced by 
 Henry. When Tournay had surrendered to his arms, he 
 found the bishopric not entirely filled up. The bishop 
 had lately died ; a new one had been elected by the 
 chapter, but not installed. The king bestowed the ad- 
 ministration of the see on Wolsey, and put him in 
 immediate possession of its revenues. The new pastor 
 immediately tendered, on the part of his flock, an oath of 
 allegiance to the king of England. On his return to 
 England, the see of Lincoln, just vacant by the death of 
 bishop Smith, was added to Wolsey's hanors and revenues. 
 Wolsey's talents, as he rose in power, unfolded them- 
 selves in all their native splendor and versatility ; but in 
 a still greater degree did prosperity develope and mature 
 the vices of his character. Each step in his ascent to 
 power seemed but to swell his arrogance, while each addi- 
 tion to his large revenues but made him more rapacious. 
 Scarcely was the ceremony of his consecration at Lincoln 
 over, than he laid hold of the goods belonging to his prede- 
 cessor ; and Cavendish tells us, that he has frequently 
 seen, with shame, some of the stolen furniture of the late 
 bishop in the house of his master. As might be supposed, 
 such conduct, aggravated by his haughty deportment, 
 made him many enemies ;f but their ill-will was construed 
 either as envy of his sudden elevation, or as an insolent 
 
 * Machiavel remarks upon this invasion, that " though England had 
 had no wars for thirty years before, and had neither officers nor soldiers 
 who had ever seen a battle, they ventured to attack a kingdom where the 
 officers were excellent, and the soldiers very good, and who had been trained 
 up for several years together in the Italian wars."— ffw. Liv. quoted by 
 Mr. Turner. 
 
 t Erasmus speaks of him as " non passim comis aut facilis." In a letter 
 published in Fiddes' Collection from a sir T. Allen, a priest to the earl of 
 Shrewsbury, we have a striking instance of his haughty insolence of de- 
 
106 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 reflection upon the discrimination of the king, and served, 
 in either case, but to rivet him faster in Henry's confi- 
 dence. Wolsey himself was too well acquainted with the 
 king's temper, and, as we have before observed, too artful, 
 not to conceal the absolute ascendant he had acquired : 
 and while he secretly directed all public councils, he ever 
 pretended a blind submission to the will and authority of 
 his sovereign. In the same year that he was promoted to 
 the see of Lincoln, Bambridge, archbishop of York, died, 
 and the vacant see was at once made over to Wolsey. 
 Nor w£LS he content with the honor of the archbishopric of 
 York; for, besides the rich see of Tournay, he farmed 
 on his own terms the bishoprics of Bath, Worcester, and 
 Hereford, filled by foreigners, who gladly compounded for 
 the indulgence of residing abroad, by yielding up a large 
 share of their English incomes. He held in commendam 
 the abbey of St. Albans and many other church prefer- 
 ments, and was even allowed to unite with the see of 
 York, first, that of Durham, and next that of Winchester. 
 Even this is not the list of his new sources of wealth and 
 influence. Wolsey was promoted to the archbishopric of 
 York in October, 1514. In the ensuing September he 
 was, with a view to purchasing his influence with the 
 king, created a cardinal by pope Leo X. ; and in three 
 months after, upon the resignation of archbishop Norham, 
 made lord high chancellor of England. " In fact," says 
 the historian, " there seemed to be no end to his acquisi- 
 tions." Neither was his influence nor were his reven- 
 ues, great as they were, confined to these numerous and 
 munificent proofs of the favor of his sovereign. He was^ 
 courted with incredible attention and obsequiousness by 
 the great monarchs of Europe who sought the friendship 
 and alliance of the court of England.* The youthful, 
 enterprising, and chivalrous Francis I., and his great rivals 
 
 portment : — " I delivered your letter with the examination to my lord car 
 dinal at Guildford, when he commanded me to wait on him to the court* 
 I followed him to the court, and there gave attendance, and could have no 
 answer. Upon Friday last he came thence to Hampton Court, where he 
 lieth. The morrow after I besought his grace that I might know his 
 pleasure. I could have no answer. Upon Monday last, as he walked in 
 the park at Hampton, I besought his grace I might know if he would com- 
 mand me any service. He was not content with me that I spoke to him. The 
 Sunday before I delivered the letter which R. Leid brought. I can have no 
 answer to neither of the letters ; so that who shall be suitor to him may have 
 no business but to attend upon his pleasure. He that shall do so has need- 
 ful to be a wiser man than I am. I had rather your lordship commanded 
 me to Rome than deliver him letters and bring answer to the same. When 
 he walks in the park, he will suffer no servant to come nigh unto him, but 
 commands them away aa far as one may well shoot an arrow." — Fiddes^ 
 Lord Herbert's Life of Henry VHL 
 * Even the doge of Venice addressed him as an integral portion of the 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 107 
 
 the emperor Charles V., vied with each other by bribes 
 
 and flattery to work upon his growing avarice and ambition. 
 The former employed Bonnivet, the most skilful of his 
 courtiers, to win him over to his interest; and, besides 
 settling on him a yearly pension of 12,000 livres, labored 
 with incessant assiduity to secure his friendship by every 
 mark of respect and confidence, and by every possible 
 expression of regard, bestowing on him, in all his letters, 
 the honorable appellations of father, tutor, and governor. 
 Charles, on the other hand, soon after his accession to 
 the throne of Castile, sought to ingratiate himself with 
 Wolsey, by settling on him a pension of 3000 livres ; to 
 which he added 7000 ducats more on his visit to England, 
 for the purpose of detaching his " good friend " and his 
 " most dear friend " {as he designated the cardinal) from 
 the interests of Francis. 
 
 Great as was the revenue which Wolsey derived from 
 tlu'se exorbitant acquisitions, it did not keep pace with 
 the magnificence of his household, and the ostentatious 
 state and pomp with which, under color of exacting 
 respect to religion and the legal tribunals, he supported 
 his dignity as cardinal and lord chancellor. His domes- 
 tic establishments were on a royal scale, his train consist- 
 ing of not less than 500 servants,* of whom many, accord- 
 ing to the usage of the times, were knights and gentlemen, 
 and sons of noblemen. Three great tables were daily 
 laid out in the cardinal's hall for this nupierous retinue, 
 each presided over by a dignitary bearing a white staff of 
 office. Conformably with the custom of the age, many 
 of the nobility placed their children in his family as a 
 place of education ; and, for the purpose of winning his 
 favor, allowed them to act as his servants. Tlioy 
 boarded, however, at a separate table, thence called the 
 " mess of lords," and had numerous menials to attend 
 them ; the earl of Derby and. lord Henry Percy (the 
 lover of Anne Boleyn) having five each, and the other 
 young noble inmates not less than two. The kitchen of 
 
 royal power. See Fiddea. And Bollay speaks as an eye-witness, when lie 
 tells U3 that " in all things the cardinal was honored like the king's pfirwon, 
 and sat always at his right hand. In all places where the king's arms were 
 put the cardinal's had the same rank, so that in every honor they wore 
 equal." Mem. v. 18. p. 12. quoted by Turner. But it was reserved for the 
 university of Oxford to outstrip all precedent in its hase obsequiousness, 
 by repeatedly addressing Wolsey as " your majesty :" " Consultissina tua 
 majestas ; — reverendUsitna majestas ; — inaudita majostatis tuiB benign itaa ; — 
 veatra ilia sublimis et longe reterendUs imamajestas." 
 
 * Lord Burghley, in a state paper to oueen Elizabeth about favorites, 
 says of Wolsey, that he had a family equal to that of a great prince. There 
 were in it, he says, one earl, nine barons, and about a thousand knights. 
 Burnet gives the same number ; but we follow Cav«ndi8h in the text. 
 
108 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 the cardinal was on the same magnificent scale, being 
 ruled over by a master cook, " who went about daily in 
 garments of damask satin, wearing a chain of gold round 
 his neck," as an emblem of his authority and importance. 
 There was a regular master of the horse presiding over 
 the stable department, with a suitable retinue of yeomen, 
 grooms, sumpter-men, muleteers, saddlers and farriers. 
 The barges, gardens, larder, scalding-house, wafery, 
 bake-house, scullery, buttery, pantry, ewery, chandlery, 
 cellar, laundry, and wardrobe of beds, had each their 
 distinct grooms, yeomen, and pages, in suitable numbers. 
 The personal servants of the cardinal amounted to forty- 
 six, and formed, with his chaplains and attendants upon 
 the ceremony of the mass, a body of not less than 143 
 persons. His procession in public was still more imposing, 
 and more indicative of that love of the externals, and 
 parade of the trappings of dignity, " the tailor's heraldry," 
 as it has been quaintly characterized, remarkable in men 
 of lowly origin. It would appear to have been his aim to 
 dazzle the eyes of the populace by the gorgeous lustre 
 of his garments, and the splendid costly embroidery of 
 his equipage and liveries, and thereby reconcile them to 
 his newly-acquired but unlimited authority. He was the 
 first clergyman in England that wore silk and gold, not 
 only on his habit, but also on his saddles and the trappings 
 of his horses. A priest, the tallest and most comely he 
 could find, carried before him a pillar of silver, on whose 
 top was placed a cross ; but not satisfied with this parade, to 
 which he thought himself entitled as cardinal, he provided 
 another priest, of equal stature and beauty, who marched 
 along, bearing the cross of York,* even in the diocese of 
 Canterbury.! It is in allusion to this circumstance that 
 Cavendish, in his metrical piece of autobiography, makes 
 Wolsey say, — 
 
 " My crossis twayne of silver, long and greate, 
 That dayly before me were carried hyghe, 
 Upon great horses, opynly in the streett ; 
 ,.■ And massie pillers gloryouse to the eye. 
 
 With pollaxes gylt, that no man durst come nyghe 
 My presence, I was so pryncely to behold ^ 
 Ridyng on my mule trapped in silver and in golde." 
 
 The ceremony of " high mass," so imposingly magnifi- 
 cent at this day in Catholic countries, was performed by 
 
 * The people, in that spirit which so much accelerated the Reformation, 
 on this occasion made merry with the cardinal's ostentation ; saving, they 
 •were now sensible that not less than two crucifixes would be sufficient for 
 the expiation of his sins and offences. 
 
 f Mr. Hume and others err in supposing that Wolscy's taking precedency 
 of the Brchbjahop of Canterbury was an usurpation dictated by his arro 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 109 
 
 Wolsey in a style of splendor which astonished, even in 
 that age of pomp and ceremony. His attendants were 
 bishops and abbots ; and such was his haughtiness, that, 
 says Hall, " he made dukes and earls to serve him with 
 wine, and to hold the bason and the lavatories," — offices 
 which Catholic superstition rendered honorable, if not 
 sacred. 
 
 His daily procession to the court of chancery was equal- 
 ly ostentatious, and jarring with our modern notions of 
 the deportment becoming a judge and a clergyman. The 
 reader, accustomed to the plain attire and dignified simpli- 
 city of bearing of our Eldons and Broughams and Tenter- 
 dens, as they wend their way, generally on foot, to 
 Westminster Hall, and unattended, will be amused by 
 the contrast afforded by Wolsey's love of pageantry. 
 We shall quote the narrative of Cavendish, for its minute 
 and graphic fidelity : — 
 
 "Now will I declare unto you his order in going to 
 Westminster Hall, daily, in the term season. First, be- 
 fore his coming out his privy chamber, he heard most 
 commonly every day two masses in his privy closet ; and 
 there then said his daily service with his chaplain : and 
 as I heard his chaplain say, being a man of credence and 
 of excellent learning, that the cardinal, what business or 
 weighty matters soever he had in the day, he never went 
 to his bed with any part of his divine service unsaid, yea, 
 not so much as one collect : wherein I doubt not but he 
 deceived the opinion of divers persons. And after masa 
 he would return in his privy chamber again, and being ad- 
 vertised of the furniture of his chambers without with 
 noblemen, gentlemen, and other persons, would issue 
 out into them, appareled all in red, in the habit of a car- 
 dinal ; which was either of fine scarlet, or else of crimson 
 satin, taffety, damask, or caffa, the best that he could get 
 for money ; and upon his head a round pillion, with a 
 noble of black velvet set to the same in the inner side ; he 
 had also a tippet of fine sables about his neck ; holding in 
 his hand a very fair orange, whereof the meat or substance 
 within was taken out and filled up again with the part of 
 a sponge, wherein was vinegar, and other confections 
 against the pestilent airs ; the which he most commonly 
 smelt unto passing among the press, or else when he 
 
 gance. As cardinal, he had the right of usage to precede him ; the point 
 having been mooted in the case of a cardinal Kemp, also archbishop of 
 York, precedine the then archbishop of Canterbury, and decided by the 
 pope in favor of the cardinal. 
 VOL. I. 10 
 
110 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 was pestered with many suitors. There was also borne 
 before him, first, the great seal of England, and then his 
 cardinal's hat, by a nobleman or some worthy gentleman, 
 right solemnly, bareheaded. And as soon as he was 
 entered into his chamber of presence, where there was at- 
 tending his coming to await upon him to Westminster Hall, 
 as well noblemen and other worthy gentlemen, as noblemen 
 and gentlemen of his own family ; thus passing forth with 
 two great crosses of silver borne before him ; with also two 
 great pillars of silver, and his pursuivant at arms with a 
 great mace of silver gilt. Then his gentlemen ushers 
 cried, and said, ' On, my lords and masters, on before ; 
 make way for my lord's grace !' Thus passed he down 
 from his chamber through the hall ; and when he came to 
 the hall door, there was attendant for him his mule, trapped 
 all together in crimson velvet, and gilt stirrups. When he 
 was mounted, with his cross bearers, and pillar bearers, 
 also upon great horses trapped with [fine] scarlet, then 
 marched he forward, with his train and furniture in man- 
 ner as I have declared, having about him four footmen, 
 with gilt pollaxes in their hands ; and thus he went until 
 he came to Westminster Hall door. And there alighted, 
 and went after this manner, up through the hall into the 
 chancery ; howbeit, he would most commonly stay awhile 
 at a bar, made for him, a little beneath the chancery [on 
 the right hand], and there commune some time with the 
 judges, and some time with other persons. And that done 
 he would repair into the chancery, sitting there till eleven 
 of the clock, hearing suitors, and determining of divers 
 matters. And from thence he would divers times go into 
 the star-chamber, as occasion did serve ; where he spared 
 neither high nor low, but judged every estate according 
 to their merits and deserts." 
 
 Cavendish, whose style warms when he has a pageant 
 to describe, next proceeds to give us an account of the 
 mode in which the " king's majesty " was wont to amuse 
 himself at the mansion of the cardinal. The passage is 
 curiously illustrative of the chivalrous manner of the mon- 
 arch and the age : — 
 
 " And when it pleased the king's majesty, for his re- 
 creation, to repair unto the cardinal's house, as he did 
 divers times in the year, at which time there wanted no 
 preparations, or goodly furniture, with viands of the finest 
 sort that might be provided for money or friendship. 
 Such pleasures were then devised for the king's comfort 
 and consolation, as might be invented, or by man's wit 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. Ill 
 
 imagined. The banquets were set forth, with masks 
 and mummeries, in so gorgeous a sort, and costly man- 
 ner, that it was a heaven to b€hold. There wanted no 
 dames, or damsels, meet or apt to dance with the mask- 
 ers, or to garnish the place for the time, with other goodly 
 disports. Then was there all kind of music and har- 
 mony set forth, with excellent voices both of men and 
 children. I have seen the king suddenly come in thither 
 in a mask, with a dozen of other maskers, all in garments 
 like shepherds, made of fine cloth of gold and fine crim- 
 son satin paned, and caps of the same, with visors of 
 good proportion of visnomy ; their hairs, and beards, 
 either of fine gold wire, or else of silver, and some being 
 of black silk; having sixteen torch bearers, besides their 
 drums, and other persons attending upon them, with 
 visors, and clothed all in satin, of the same colors. And 
 at his coming, and before he came into the hall, ye shall 
 understand, that he came by water to the water gate 
 without any noise ; where, against his coming, were laid 
 charged many chambers, and at his landing they were 
 all shot off, which made such a rumble in the air that it 
 was like thunder. It made all the noblemen, ladies, and 
 gentlewomen to muse what it should mean coming so 
 suddenly, they sitting quietly at a solemn banquet ; under 
 this sort : First, ye shall perceive that the tables were 
 set in the chamber of presence, banquet-wise covered, my 
 lord cardinal sitting under the cloth of estate, and there 
 having his service all alone ; and then was there set a 
 lady and a nobleman, or a gentleman and gentlewoman, 
 throughout all the tables in the chamber on the one side, 
 which were made and joined as it were but one table. 
 All which order and device was done and devised by the 
 lord Sands, lord chamberlain to the king ; and also by sir 
 Henry Guilford, comptroller to the king. Then imme- 
 diately after this great shot of guns, the cardinal desired 
 the lord chamberlain, and comptroller, to look what this 
 sudden shot should mean, as though he knew nothing of 
 the matter. They thereupon looking out of the windows 
 into Thames, returned again, and showed him, that it seem- 
 ed to them there should be some noblemen and strangers 
 arrived at his bridge, as ambassadors from some foreign 
 prince. With that, quoth the cardinal, ' I shall desire you, 
 because ye can speak French, to take the pains to go 
 down into the hall to encounter and to receive them, ac- 
 cording to their estates, and to conduct them into this 
 chamber, where they shall see us, and all these noble per- 
 
112 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 sonages sitting merrily at our banquet, desiring them to sit 
 down with us, and to teike part of our fare and pastime "" 
 Then [they] went incontinent down into the hall, where 
 they received them with twenty new torches, and conveyed 
 them up into the chamber, with such a number of drums 
 and fifes as I have seldom seen together at one time in 
 any masque. At their arrival into the chamber, two and 
 two together, they went directly before the cardinal where 
 he sat, saluting him very reverently ; to whom the lord 
 chamberlain for them said, ' Sir, for as much as they be 
 strangers, and can speak no English, they have desired 
 me to declare unto your grace thus : they having under- 
 standing of this your triumphant banquet, where was 
 assembled such a number of excellent fair dames, could 
 do no less, under the supportation of your good grace, but 
 to repair hither to view as well their incomparable beauty, 
 as for to accompany them at mumchance, and then after 
 to dance with them, and so to have of them acquaintance. 
 And, sir, they furthermore require of your grace license 
 to accomplish the cause of their repair.' To whom the 
 cardinal answered, that he was very well contented they 
 should so do. Then the maskers went first and saluted 
 all the dames as they sat, and then returned to the most 
 worthiest, and there opened a cup full of gold, with crowns, 
 and other pieces of coin, to whom they set divers pieces 
 to cast at. Thus in this manner perusing all the ladies 
 and gentlewomen, and to some they lost, and of some they 
 won. And thus done, they returned unto the cardinal, 
 with great reverence, pouring down all the crowns in the 
 cup, which was about two hundred crowns. ' At all,' quoth 
 the cardinal, and so cast the dice, and won them all at a 
 cast ; whereat was great joy made. Then quoth the car- 
 dinal to my lord chamberlain, ' I pray you,' quoth he, ' show 
 them that it seemeth me that there should be among them 
 some noble man, whom I suppose to be much more worthy 
 of honor to sit and occupy this room and place than I ; to 
 whom I would most gladly, if I knew him, surrender my 
 place according to my duty.' Then spake my lord cham- 
 berlain unto them in French, declaring my lord cardinal's 
 mind, and they rounding him again in the ear, my lord 
 chamberlain said to my lord cardinal, ' Sir, they confess,' 
 quoth he, ' that among them there is such a noble person- 
 age, whom, if your grace can appoint him from the other, 
 he is contented to disclose himself, and to accept your 
 place most worthily.' With that the cardinal, taking a 
 good advisement among them, at the last, quoth he, ' Me 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 113 
 
 seemeth the gentleman with the black beard should be 
 even he.' And with that he arose out of his chair, and 
 offered the same to the gentleman in the black beard, with 
 his cap in his hand. The person to whom he offered then 
 his chair was sir Edward Neville, a comely knight of a 
 goodly personage, that much more resembled the king's 
 person in that mask than any other. The king, hearing 
 and perceiving the cardinal so deceived in his estimation 
 and choice, could not forbear laughing ; but plucked down 
 his visor, and master Neville's also, and dashed out with 
 such a pleasant countenance and cheer, that all noble 
 estates there assembled, seeing the king to be there 
 amongst them, rejoiced very much. The cardinal eftsoons 
 desired his highness to take the place of estate, to whom 
 the king answered, that he would go first and shift his 
 apparel ; and so departed, and went straight into my lord's 
 bedchamber, where was a great fire made and prepared 
 for him ; and there new appareled him with rich and 
 princely garments. And in the time of the king's absence, 
 the dishes of the banquet were clean taken up, and the 
 tables spread again with new and sweet perfumed cloths ; 
 every man sitting still until the king and his maskers came 
 in among them again, every man being newly appareled. 
 Then the king took his seat under the cloth of estate, 
 commanding no man to remove, but sit still as they did 
 before. Then in came a new banquet before the king's 
 majesty, and to all the rest through the tables, wherein, 
 I suppose, were served two hundred dishes or above, of 
 wondrous costly meats and devices, subtilly devised. 
 Thus passed they forth the whole night with banqueting, 
 dancing, and other triumphant devices, to the great com- 
 fort of the king, and pleasant regard of the nobility there 
 assembled." 
 
 In 1516, Leo X. despatched cardinal Campeggio to 
 England, as his legate, for the purpose of procuring a 
 tithe from the clergy to the prosecuting the war against 
 the Turks, the great enemy of the Christian name. The 
 pride of Wolsey took alarm at this appointment : he could 
 brook no brother near the throne. As representative of 
 the pope, the legate was armed with almost absolute 
 authority over the clergy in the country of his mission. 
 The idea that any one invested with greater ecclesiastical 
 power than himself should openly exercise that power in 
 England, was therefore equally offensive to Wolsey's 
 pride and vanity; and accordingly, through his means, 
 ('ampeggio was delayed on his route in Paris, till the pope 
 10* 
 
114 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 had also formally invested himself with the legatine au- 
 thority. Having obtained this new dignity, Wolsey made 
 an extraordinary display of the state and parade to which 
 he was so much addicted. He affected a rank superior to 
 any ever claimed by a churchman in England, not except- 
 ing the haughty Thomas a Becket ; and celebrated mass 
 after the manner of the pope as sovereign pontiff. War- 
 ham, the archbishop of Canterbury, having at this time 
 written him a letter in which he subscribed himself, in the 
 usual phraseology of clergymen, " your loving brother,'* 
 Wolsey complained of his presumption in thus challenging 
 an equality with "the lord cardinal legate."* Warham, 
 when informed of the offence which he had thus uninten- 
 tionally given, made light of the matter, and said, " Know 
 ye not that this man is drunk with too much prosperity ?" 
 But the humble deportment, plain habits, and narrow 
 income of the Italian cardinal ill suited with the pomp and 
 parade which his colleague considered essential to the 
 dignity of the legatine office. Wolsey therefore despatch- 
 ed a quantity of scarlet cloth, richly embroidered, of which 
 Campeggio's attendants are represented to have stood in 
 great need, for the purpose of enabling them to make a 
 showy appearance. He also sent twelve mules with 
 baggage, to swell the Italian cardinal's train. An acci- 
 dent which occurred on this occasion throws curious, 
 indeed ludicrous, light upon Wolsey's vanity. The chests 
 of which the baggage was composed were supposed to 
 contain the jewellery, plate, and costly garments of the 
 Italian legate ; but, unhappily for the credit of Campeggio, 
 one of the mules fell, and the coffer which it carried being 
 burst open by the fall, old habiliments, and pieces of 
 broken bread and meat, put into the chest as ballast, were 
 exposed to the laughter of the spectators. It is not 
 improbable that prudence induced Wolsey to thus shun the 
 reflections which the contrast of his own ostentatious 
 magnificence with his colleague's plainness of appearance 
 must naturally have given birth to; though it is much 
 more in keeping with his temper — fond of pomp, and too 
 arrogant to be calculating — to ascribe the transaction 
 wholly to the workings of vanity .f- Such conduct strange- 
 
 * The importance which Wolsey attached to his office of legato ia evi- 
 dent from what ho says to Cavendish on his fall : — "My authority and 
 dignity legatine is gone, wherein consisted all my high honor." 
 
 •f This would appear the more probable from the ludicrous anxiety dis- 
 played by Wolsey in the escorting of his cardinal's hat to England. He 
 seems to have had lofty notions of the dignity of this " hat," and was 
 cha^inedby the pope's having forwarded it to hira " in a varlet's budget." 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. llS 
 
 ly contrasts with the vigor and intellect evinced in his 
 able administration of affairs both at home and abroad , 
 but is by no means inconsistent with what we know of the 
 workings of human nature, as they manifest themselves 
 even in the strongest minds. If not generated, it was 
 much fostered by the genius of the Catholic worship — so 
 imposing from its numerous ceremonies, magnificent 
 processions, and rigid enforcement of respect to rank. 
 One effect of it, however, was, to render Wolsey an object 
 of odium to the nation at large, and to lessen his master in 
 the eyes of all Europe. 
 
 Wolsey had now attained a height of grandeur, power,* 
 and wealth, far beyond that ever before or since reached 
 by an English subject ; and it might be supposed, would 
 confine his future exertions to retaining himself securely 
 in his lofly station. But ambition, like the air we breathe, 
 expands as we ascend above the ordinary level of hu- 
 manity, and continues, at a rapidly increasing ratio, to 
 enlarge its dimensions, till its victim reaches a region — a 
 moral Mont Blanc — cold, barren, and cut off from human 
 sympathies, where he perishes heart-frozen, and unmourn- 
 ed of his fellows. So it was with Wolsey. There was 
 one, and but one step higher, which he possibly could 
 reach, and to it were all his thoughts and aspirations 
 henceforth directed with a feverish and concentrated 
 
 The " varlct " was, therefore, detained in France till his appearance was, 
 at the cardinal's expense, made more worthy of the treasure of which he 
 was the ignoble guardian. On its landing, " the hat " was met by a great 
 procession at Blackheath, and conducted m solemn triumph to Westminster 
 Abbey. When it had reached the Abbey, it " was placed in state on a 
 table, with tapers round it, before an empty suit, and the greatest duke of 
 the land was compelled to make a curtesy to it." — Tyndal, quoted by 
 Wordsworth, Eccl. Biog. The hat appears to have acted a very distin- 
 guished part in all the cardinal's processions and state exhibitions, and con- 
 ducted itself, we presume, with becoming dignity and discretion. 
 
 * "Erasmus observes (Ep, 1151.), that Wolsey 'visibly reigned more truly 
 than the king.' He was uniformly addressed by foreign powers as a sort 
 of co-monarch. Thus Dr. Taylor writes, that Francis would not perform 
 any part of the treaty of Madrid without ' the king' and cardinal's advice ;' 
 and that the papal and Venetian ambassadors told him, ' they had letters 
 from the pope to give thanks to the king and cardinal for furthering tho 
 holy league.' His own language, indeed, implied the co-equal power; 
 hence the well-known phrase, one of the charges against him on his fall, — 
 ' the king and I.' Thus, writing, in 1524, to Pace and others, Wolsey says, 
 ' His highness and I give unto you hearty thanks,' ' Neither the king's 
 highness nor I will advise him.' ' Much it is to the king's and my comfort.' 
 ^ The king's highness and /abide daily knowledge.' 'Arrived here the 
 archbishop of Capua, whom tho king's highness and /like.' 'The king's 
 highness and I be always of tho same mind that tho emperor is.' ' The king's 
 highness and I gave my own lodging and chambers to him.'" — Turnery 
 from MS. Letters in the British Museum. 
 
 We take leave once for all to state here, that our quotations from letters 
 to and from Wolsey are, unless otherwise specified, taken from the original 
 MS. in the British Museum. 
 
116 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 energy. A change noAv comes over the spirit of the 
 " foreign relations" of England. From this period till the 
 death of Wolsey, their history is but the narrative of the 
 schemes and struggles — tortuous, wily, and double-deal- 
 ing — for the chair of St. Peter, of an aspiring mind, which, 
 unsatisfied with the absolute rule of a great empire, felt all 
 it had achieved valueless while there was one station of 
 still more extensive authority filled by another. 
 
 Francis I. had offended Wolsey by his tardiness in 
 silencing a claimant upon the revenues of tlie see of Tour- 
 nay, who for some time had been troublesome to the car- 
 dinal ; and well knew that, till he had regained his favor, 
 he could have no hope of the alliance of England in his 
 wars with the emperor. His ambassador, accordingly, was 
 desired to express his master's deep regret, that, by mis- 
 takes and misapprehensions, he had b6en so unfortunate 
 as to lose the friendship of one whom he so valued as the 
 cardinal ; and that nothingi could afford him more unfeign- 
 ed pleasure than to convince his eminence of the respect 
 and admiration which he entertained for him. Francis 
 confirmed the favorable impression which these advances 
 made, by consulting Wolsey on his most secret and diffi- 
 cult affairs, and receiving his opinions with implicit 
 deference, as those of an oracle of wisdom. By thus 
 paying flattering homage to Wolsey's vanity, and by the 
 grant of the large pension of which we have already made 
 mention, Henry was persuaded to yield Tournay to 
 France, to conclude a treaty of marriage between his 
 daughter Mary and the dauphin ; that city, for the sake of 
 appearance, being laid down as part of the princess's 
 dowry. We have the assertion of one (Polydore Vergil) 
 who was malevolently disposed towards Wolsey, and 
 wliose evidence therefore should be received with suspi- 
 cion, that Wolsey moreover negotiated with the French 
 king for the delivery of Calais ; but was dissuaded, by the 
 general unpopularity of the proposition, from bringing it 
 formally before the council. 
 
 Through the influence of Wolsey, Henry consented to 
 an interview with the French monarch, who trusted to an 
 address, the fascination of which was owned by all that 
 approached him, to win the friendship and confidence of 
 his English "dear brother." The particulars of this cele- 
 brated interview at the Jield of the cloth of gold, — 
 
 " When those suns of glory, those two liglits of men, 
 Met in the vale of Ardres," — 
 
 are too well known to be now recapitulated. It was 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 117 
 
 sought with avidity by the two youthful, handsome, and 
 chivalrous princes, as an occasion of displaying their 
 magnificence and knightly accomplishments ; and by the 
 cardinal as one for exhibiting, in the presence of two 
 courts, his riches, splendor, and unbounded influence 
 over both monarchs. So far as Francis was concerned, 
 Wolsey had no other immediate design in this display of 
 his influence than its publicity ; his friendly oflSices had 
 been secretly anticipated by the French king's great 
 rival, the emperor Charles ; so that the impression which 
 Francis's winning manners, and the generous confidence 
 with which he treated Henry, and the congeniality of their 
 dispositions, must have made on the English monarch, 
 was soon effaced by the treacherous artifices of his favor- 
 ite. To explain this deceitful conduct, it should be 
 premised, that of the two great factions or influences in 
 the college of cardinals, the French and the imperial, the 
 latter was much the preponderating; and it had been 
 promised to Wolsey ( Francis had before assured him of 
 his ) in the interval between the appointment and the hold- 
 ing of the interview at Ardres. When Charles found that 
 he could not prevent the meeting of the two monarchs, he 
 applied himself, with his usual finesse, to counteracting its 
 probable effects ; and, by a master-stroke of policy, se- 
 cured Wolsey's friendship, by placing him in immediate 
 possession of the revenues of the sees of Badajos and 
 Placentia in Castile, and promising him his most zealous 
 aid in procuring the papal dignity. Henry was at Canter- 
 bury, on his way to France, when the emperor, to the 
 surprise of every body in the nation (except Wolsey, who 
 had secretly planned the visit), landed at Dover ; and in 
 the short space of four days had the address to make 
 Henry believe favorably of his character and intentions, 
 and promise to visit him in the Low Countries, after he 
 had taken leave of the French king. 
 
 War, as had been anticipated, was soon declared be- 
 tween Francis and the emperor, and both parties earnestly 
 courted the alliance of England. Henry at first affected 
 the office of mediator ; but, entirely estranged from the 
 interests of France by the artifices of Wolsey, who, bent 
 on the triple crown, was ready to sacrifice every considera- 
 tion to ensure the imperial influence in the next conclave, 
 he took advantage of the first pretext to join his arms to 
 those of the emperor. The war, which was now waged 
 against France with more steadiness than the other 
 foreign wars of Henry, but with as little regard to his 
 
118 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 own and his people's interests, only terminated with the 
 captivity of Francis at the memorable battle of Pavia. It 
 ended as it had begun, in subserviency to the cardinal's 
 passions and ambition of the popedom, which were the 
 sole actuating principle, as far as he was concerned, of 
 the subsequent alliance with France, and declaration of 
 hostilities against Charles. 
 
 The first trial of the sincerity of the emperor's friend- 
 ship took place in 1522, on the election of a successor to 
 Leo X., who died, in the vigor of his age, in the preceding 
 December. It is not easy to determine the degree of the 
 faithlessness of Charles's promises to Wolsey of his zeal- 
 ous influence in the conclave in his favor. The result, 
 and our knowledge of Charles's skill in the art of dissimu- 
 lation, and readiness to employ the most immoral means 
 to the attainment of his end, would induce us to believe 
 that his promises were given without the remotest inten- 
 tion of fulfilling them ; while the fact of Wolsey's having 
 received twenty votes in his favor (twenty-six would 
 have sufficed) would go far to show that the emperor's 
 letter* to his ambassador at Rome, enjoining him to urge 
 the cardinals to elect Wolsey to the papal chair, was not 
 written in a spirit of entire faitlilessness. Be this, how- 
 ever, as it may, after a struggle of unusual duration, the 
 imperial influence in the conclave prevailed, and cardinal 
 Adrian, the emperor's tutor, was raised to the popedom 
 under the title of Adrian VI. 
 
 The resentment which the pride of Wolsey, mortified by 
 this disappointment of his hopes, was likely to engender, 
 was dreaded by Charles, who knew full well that his 
 alliance with England depended wholly on his standing 
 well in the good graces of its haughty minister. To pre- 
 vent, therefore, the loss of so powerful an ally, he visited 
 England for the second time, shortly after Adrian had 
 been elected, and, after augmenting his pension, renewed 
 his promise of aiding the cardind's pretensions to the 
 popedom at the next vacancy ; an event which, from 
 Adrian's extreme age and infirmities, botli knew could not 
 be far distant. Wolsey thought it prudent to stifle his re- 
 sentment, and endeavor, by new services, to ensure the 
 imperial interest in the next conclave. Pope Adrian died 
 in about a year and a half after his election, and Wolsey 
 
 ♦ This letter, written in Latin, is still preserved in the British Museum, 
 (MS. Vitcll. book iv. p. 222.) as well as another to Wolsey, also from the 
 emperor, apprising him of its contents, written in French, from Ghent— 
 MS. Galba, b. vii. p. 160. 
 
CARDNIAL WOLSEY. 119 
 
 again entered the lists with his characteristic zeal and 
 increased hopes of success. At his request, Henry wrote 
 to the emperor, reminding him of his promises, and urging 
 him to fulfil them as he valued his friendship ; the English 
 ambassadors and agents at Rom^ being at the same time 
 instructed to spare, among the members of the sacred 
 college, neither bribes nor promises. But Charles again 
 deceived him ; and cardinal de' Medici, with the support 
 of the imperial party, was elected pope, under the title of 
 Clement VII. From that hour his study was how he 
 could revenge himself on the emperor : a close alliance 
 was soon after entered into with France,* and war declar- 
 ed by England against her recent imperial ally. 
 
 While Wolsey was thus pursuing his ambitious schemeg 
 for the attainment of the papal dignity, and moved kinga 
 and nations like so many chess pawns in hostility against 
 each other, according to his views of his own personal 
 aggrandizement, his administration at home was conducted 
 with great firmness and ability, but with an arbitrariness 
 alien from the genius of the constitution. The continental 
 wars and alliances in which Henry wels more constantly 
 involved than any of his immediate predecessors, joined 
 with his own lavish habits of expenditure, rendered his 
 demands upon his subjects' money oppressively urgent 
 and frequent ; the immense treasure left him by his father 
 being so rapidly dissipated, that he had recourse to his par- 
 liament for assistance in the very first year of his reign. 
 We have already mentioned the trying circumstances in 
 which Wolsey's arrogance induced him to take upon him- 
 self the difficult duties of lord treasurer, on the resignation 
 of the duke of Norfolk, who too well knew, as the cardinal 
 soon experienced, that oppressive taxation was the only 
 grievance which the people of England, during the reign 
 of the first two Tudors, complained of and openly resisted. 
 So extremely tenacious were they of their money, that 
 the same people who saw arbitrary outrages on their na- 
 tional privileges pass without remonstrance, and who saw 
 innocent men of all ranks led to the scaffold without a 
 murmur, actually broke out twice in rebellion against the 
 king's commissioners for levying loans and benevolences. 
 
 Wolsey, nothing daunted by this temper of the public 
 mind, proceeded to raise money by loans, impositions, 
 benevolences, and every other form of exaction. His first 
 act was one of great prudence : he applied himself to the 
 
 * On this occasion Wolsey received a bribe of 100,000 crowns from Fran- 
 cis, under the pretence of arrears due on the Toumay pension. 
 
120 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 ascertaining the capability of the people to bear taxation, 
 and for this purpose caused a general survey to be made 
 of the whole kingdom ; or, to speak in modern parliament- 
 ary language, he caused returns of the number of men, 
 their ages, profession, capital, revenue, and clear income 
 in England and Wales,^ to be minutely and accurately 
 made out. These returns afforded a very cheering picture 
 of the opulence of the kingdom, and induced him to issue 
 privy seals, demanding particular sums, by way of " loans " 
 (a mode of taxation, though irregular and despotic, not 
 without precedent), from the more wealthy. The success 
 of this measure misled Henry in the next year, 1523, to 
 publish an edict for a general tax, also called a "loan," 
 from his subjects, by which he levied five shillings in the 
 pound from the clergy, and two shillings ,from the laity. 
 A parliament and a convocation were summoned soon after, 
 in 1524. With the hope of inducing the commons to 
 imitate the example of the clergy, Wolsey first addressed 
 himself to the convocation, over whom his legatine author- 
 ity had made him irresistible, and demanded the entire 
 half of the ecclesiastical revenues to be levied in five 
 years, at the rate of two shillings in the pound during that 
 time. There was an appearance of opposition ; but he 
 promptly overawed it, haughtily reprimanding the refrac- 
 tory members, and descanting on the general wealth and 
 luxury of the clergy and of the nation at large, " as though 
 he had repined," says the Chronicler, " or disclaimed that 
 any man should fare well or be well clothed but himself." 
 Elated by his success in the convocation, Wolsey came 
 down to the commons, and in the same imperious tone 
 demanded 800,000Z. (equal, all things considered, to from 
 seven to eight millions of our present coin) to be raised 
 in four years by a tax of one fiftli (four shillings in the 
 pound) on the lands and goods of the kingdom. The tax 
 was in amount beyond all precedent, being alleged to 
 exceed the entire current coin of the realm, and met with 
 such successful resistance, that a committee was sent to 
 remonstrate with the cardinal, and to beg him to reduce 
 his demand one half. Wolsey rudely dismissed the com- 
 mittee, and came down to intimidate the house into grant- 
 ing the original sum. The circumstances of his reception 
 by sir Thomas More, then speaker, have been narrated 
 elsewhere in this volume by a master pen, and have been 
 justly commented upon as a remarkable instance of the 
 spirit of freedom which, under abject language, lurked in 
 the minds of the commons of England. The house pre- 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 121 
 
 sented an unusual scene in those arbitrary times ; for, though 
 composed chiefly of the courtiers and officers of the crown, 
 the matter was debated " and beaten for fifteen or sixteen 
 days together," and " was the greatest and sorest hold in 
 the lower house that ever was seen."^ About three 
 fourths of the original demand was ultimately voted, to be 
 paid by instalments in four years : but Wolsey, greatly 
 dissatisfied and displeased with this imperfect obedience, 
 compelled the people to pay up the whole subsidy at once, 
 and did not summon a parliament for seven years after. 
 
 Even these exorbitant demands and levies did not satisfy 
 the rapacity which the profuse magnificence of the mon- 
 arch and the ambition of his minister generated. The 
 very next year (1525) after this afiair with the commons, 
 commissioners were appointed to demand the one sixth 
 part of every man's substance, payable in money, plate, or 
 jewels, according to the valuation of property taken in 
 1522. This was the most audacious attempt that had been 
 made since the reign of Edward III. to levy a general 
 imposition without consent of parliament, and, if successful, 
 would necessarily destroy the free character of the Eng- 
 lish constitution ; for if taxes could be raised by the simple 
 edict of the executive, the great use and privilege of the 
 representative branch of the government would necessarily 
 be dispensed with, and parliament only required to give a 
 legislative sanction to the other encroachments of a des- 
 potic king or minister on the rights of the people. " But 
 the courage and love of freedom natural to tlie English 
 commons," says an able modern writer,t " speaking in the 
 hoarse voice of tumult, though very ill supported by their 
 superiors, preserved us in so great a peril." 
 
 Wolsey's deportment was in perfect keeping with this 
 most arbitrary measure : he made the demand in person 
 of the mayor and chief citizens of London, and, upon their 
 remonstrating, told them very plainly, that " it were the 
 better that they should suffer indigence than that the king 
 at this time should lack ; and therefore," added he, " be- 
 ware, and resist not, nor ruffle not in this case ; for it may 
 fortune to cost some of you their heads.'*'']. The mayor 
 
 * Ellis's Letters illustrative of English History. 
 
 t Hallam, Constitutional History of England. 
 
 X This head-chopping mode of raising supplies appears to have been in 
 particular esteem with the king during his reign. While the opposition 
 of the commons to the former iinpo>!ition lasted, Henry sent for a Mr. Ed- 
 ward Montague, who had considerable influence in the house, and said — 
 " Ho, man, will they not suffer my bill to pass?" and laying his hand on 
 Montague's head, who was then on his knees before him, " Get my bill 
 passed by to-morrow, or else to-morrow this head of yours will be off." 
 VOL. 1. 11 
 
122 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 asked permission to consult the common council before 
 he should declare himself; but the cardinal peremptorily 
 refused him ; and, in order to prevent the effect of an 
 united opposition, required that he and all the aldermen 
 should separately confer with himself about the matter. 
 
 But there is a limit to the most passive submission, par- 
 ticularly in the present instance, when the great sore of 
 public feeling — illegal and oppressive taxation — was tented 
 to the quick. The people gave vent to their discontent in 
 murmurs, complaints, and opposition to the commission- 
 ers ;* and a serious insurrection, that threatened to become 
 general, broke out in the " butcher dog's " (so the insur- 
 gents contemptuously termed him) native county. The 
 proud tempers of Wolsey and his master were overawed 
 by this menacing spirit of the "licentious populace," and 
 letters were speedily despatched to all the counties, de- 
 claring that the king meant not to employ force in levying 
 his late imposition, and that he would take nothing from 
 his "loving subjects," but by way of voluntary benev- 
 olence. A general pardon was granted to the contuma- 
 cious rebels, their guilt being prudently imputed — after the 
 manner of Shakspeare's apothecary's — to poverty, and 
 not want of inclination to do better. The odium of the 
 entire transaction, as usual, fell upon the minister, whom 
 all parties, rich and poor, united in denouncing as the 
 subverter of their laws and liberties ; while the clemency 
 of the pardon, by an illusion, which (like other theoretical 
 anomalies in the constitution) on the whole " works well " 
 in practice, was ascribed wholly to the benign affection of 
 the sovereign. 
 
 It might, perhaps, be supposed, that, however unpopular 
 was Wolsey's civil administration, his rapacity and arbitra- 
 ry innovations would not extend to the body of which he 
 was a member, and that his church government would be 
 marked by so much of the esprit du corps as to ensure him 
 at least against the ill-will of his ecclesiastical brethren. 
 But the contrary was the fact : the clergy feared and hated 
 him with the acrimony of their profession ; and curses, not 
 loud but deep, followed his wake from the poorer monks 
 whom he had expelled from their dwellings, and whose 
 
 The bill was passed, and Mr. Montague's head was permitted to remain in 
 its ordinary position. 
 
 * Warham, the archbishop of Canterbury, in a letter to Wolsey on these 
 discontents of the populace, observes, that " he would that the time had 
 Buffered that this practising with the people for so great sums might have 
 been spared till the cuckoo time and die hot weather (at which time mad brains 
 be most busy) had been overpassed." This is a specimen of the physiologi- 
 cal windom of our ancestors. 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 123 
 
 revenues he had applied to the indulgence of his own 
 vanity and love of magnificence ; — and from the more 
 wealthy secular and professed priests and dignitaries, whom 
 he had' compelled to compromise by large sums of money 
 for such charges as he pleased to allege against them, and 
 upon whom he had attempted every means of reform, but 
 the purest and most efficacious, that of example. 
 
 We have seen that he was joined in the legatine author- 
 ity with Campeggio, a part of whose duty it was to inquire 
 into the condition of the monasteries throughout England. 
 Wolsey meditated great designs in this legatine visitation 
 of the religious houses, which, however, he wished should 
 be felt as the effects of his own undivided authority. At 
 his instance, Henry applied to the pope to have Campeg- 
 gio recalled, and Wolsey instituted alone in the legatine 
 power. Leo X. accordingly issued a bull, constituting the 
 English cardinal legate a latere, with the unusual privUege 
 of dispensing with all church laws for one year. He pur- 
 chased at very high prices renewals of this bull from Lee 
 and his successor, and was finally invested with the lega-' 
 tine authority, and appointed the pope's vicar-general ii> 
 England for life by Clement VH. His first act as pope 
 (which he was to all intents and purposes) in England, 
 was the erecting an office which he called the legatinci. 
 court ; the authority of which, invested as he was now with' 
 all power, ecclesiastical as well as civil, was really un-. 
 bounded : by it he assumed a kind of inquisitorial juris- 
 diction over the clergy,* and even over the laity, unknown 
 in this country ; for he not only directed inquiries into all 
 offences against good morals which were not cognizable^ 
 by the law, but actually extended his office of censor to 
 levities of conduct and matters of conscience. The im- 
 moralities springing from the wealth and ignorance of the 
 clergy were the constant themes of his denouncement, 
 considered at the time the more audacious and offensive, 
 from the contrast afforded by his own expensive and dis- 
 solute habits.f The monks and other members of religious 
 
 * He caused returns of the number of churches, monasteries, and reli- 
 eious houses, with their revenues, &c., in the kingdom, to be made out. 
 From these returns there appear to have been 9407 churches in England 
 in the time of Wolsey. In the time of bishop Gibson (Charles II.) there 
 w^o not more than 9282. "I know not," says that prelate, " how this 
 difference should arise, unless it be that some were demolished in the last 
 age, and that chapels parochial were omitted." 
 
 t Wolsey's face was scarred by disease, consequent upon his illicit amours, 
 to a degree that affected the sight of one of his eyes. Hence all likenesses 
 of him are in profile. He left one illegitimate son, Thomas Winter, whom 
 he educated at great cost in Paris, and presented with eleven livings. One 
 article of his impeachment chargia him with having compelled a sir John 
 
124 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 houses were, from the more open libertinism of the lives 
 of many of them, particularly obnoxious to this most op- 
 pressive tribunaJ, and were compelled to purchase an 
 indemnity from time to time by the payment of large sums 
 of money. 
 
 Not content with this authority, and the great emolu- 
 ments derived from it, Wolsey assumed the whole power 
 of nominating to whatever priories or benefices he pleased, 
 without regard to the right of election in the monks, and 
 of patronage in the nobility and gentry ; and, moreover, 
 usurped the fees and jurisdiction of the prerogative and 
 bishops' courts, particularly in the cases, the most profita- 
 ble, of wills and testaments. But Wolsey's designs for 
 the reformation of the clergy were not limited to the fines 
 and punishments of his legatine inquisition. He clearly 
 saw that the inevitable effects of the corruption and igno- 
 rance of the ecclesiastical body would be fatal to religion, 
 unless some bold and effectual steps were taken to correct 
 them ; and therefore, says Burnet, " intended to visit all 
 the monasteries of England, that so discovering their cor- 
 ruptions, he might the better justify the design he had to 
 suppress most of them, and convert them into bishoprics, 
 cathedrals, collegiate churches, and colleges." A bull 
 Was obtained from Rome to carry this design into effect ; 
 but Wolsey was, according to the same author, " diverted 
 rrom making any use of it, by some, who advised him 
 rather to suppress monasteries by the pope's authority, than , 
 proceed in a method which would raise great hatred 
 against himself, cast foul aspersions on religious orders, 
 and give the enemies of the church great advantages 
 against it ; yet," observes the bishop, " he had communi- 
 cated his design to the king ; and his secretary, Thomas 
 Cromwell, understanding it, was thereby instructed how to 
 proceed aflerwards, when they went about the total sup- 
 pression of the monasteries." 
 
 But Wolsey was not altogether "diverted" from his I 
 design, nor was he induced to relinquish its prosecution in 1 
 its entire extent by the motives with which Burnet alleges 
 him to have been actuated. With a courage worthy of 
 his high ambition and extraordinary fortune, he in two 
 years dissolved forty-one of the lesser monasteries ; and 
 was only restrained in his course by a friendly admonition 
 from the king, to avoid giving future occasion to the 
 
 Henley to resign a farm belonging to a convent at Chester, in favor of the 
 man who had married the mother of two other of his illegitimate children. 
 But such profligate libertinism was not unusual in those times in clergymen. 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 125 
 
 '-' mumblings " and " murmurings " which his innovations 
 had given birth to among the poorer classes, who were 
 strongly attached to the monastic institutions, from the 
 shelter afforded by them against the extreme ills of pover- 
 ty, and from their being the only means of advancement 
 to persons of lowly origin. Wolsey thus established the 
 precedent, which 
 
 "The majestic lord, ' 
 
 Who broke the hoods of Rome," 
 
 a few years after, so extensively acted upon, and which so 
 much favored the spread of the reformation in England. 
 
 The use to which Wolsey applied the funds of the dis- 
 solved monasteries sheds a bright lustre upon his charac- 
 ter, and goes far to atone for the arbitrary means which 
 he employed to attain so excellent an end. The revenues 
 and endowments of the monastery of St. Frideswide, the 
 wealthiest and most considerable of the proscribed institu- 
 tions, were appropriated to the formation of a " college of 
 secular priests," still in existence as Christ Church college, 
 Oxford ;* and the revenues of the rest were employed with 
 equal zeal in the same noble design of diffusing the means 
 of learning. Through his aid, also, lectures were read at 
 Oxford on theology, civil law, physic, philosophy, mathe- 
 matics, Greek, rhetoric, and humanity, by the most eminent 
 scholars and masters of that day, many of whom, being 
 foreigners, were induced to come into England by his 
 reputation as a munificent patron of literature. Ipswich, 
 his native town, tasted largely of his bounty and zeal in 
 the cause of education. He established a school, and 
 made arrangements for a college there ; and penned himself 
 a Latin preface to Lilly's Grammar (then just published), 
 which he particularly desired should be used in his founda- 
 tion. We shall quote a portion — the opening part — of this 
 preface, as it is the only effort of Wolsey's pen, not con- 
 nected with state transactions or his private affairs, that 
 has come down to us. The royalty of its style is char- 
 acteristic. 
 
 " Thomas, Cardinal of York, to the masters of Ipswich 
 School, greeting. 
 
 "We imagine nobody can be ignorant of the care, 
 study, and industry of mind, with which we have hitherto 
 
 * " Ever witness for him 
 Those twins of learning that he raised in you, 
 Ipswich and Oxford ! " 
 says Griffith of Wolsey, in Shakspeare's ■' Henry VIII." 
 11* 
 
126 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 directed our labors, not for our own private interest, but 
 that of our country, and all our citizens, which we have 
 very much at heart, and in which particular we shall deem 
 ourselves to have been most amply gratified, if by any 
 Divine blessing we shall improve the minds of the people. 
 Wherefore, being filled with the utmost zeal to promote 
 learning and piety in our native place, which she claims 
 of us as a certain right, we have founded a Latin school, no 
 ways inelegant, as a testimony of our chief regard for them. 
 But as it would be imperfect to erect a school, however 
 magnificent, unless attended by learned masters, we have 
 every way studied to give the government thereof to 
 chosen and approved teachers, under whose tuition British 
 youth may by degrees, from their earliest years, imbibe 
 both morals and letters ; well knowing that the hopes of 
 the republic arise from their minds being then formed 
 aright ; and that the same may more happily and speedily 
 be brought to bear, we have taken all manner of care that 
 you should have such books as are most necessary for the 
 instruction of them. 
 
 " In this our new school, whereof ye are masters, ye 
 must teach the boys by turns, and diligently exercise them 
 in the rudiments and method of learning, that they may 
 afterwards be advanced to the most elegant literature and 
 the best of morals. To this purpose, if ye labor with 
 equal care to our satisfaction, ye shall not only deserve 
 our great favor for your pains, but make it also happy for 
 your successors. Fare ye well.* 
 
 « From our palace, A. D. 1528. KaJ. Sept." 
 
 The deep interest which Wolsey took in the instruction 
 of youth is, as we before remarked, the bright feature of 
 his character, shedding a lustre alike on his heart and 
 intellect. No man seems to have been more aware of the 
 influence of external circumstances, of apparently the 
 most trifling nature, in tinging and moulding the plastic 
 mind of children ; as, indeed, no man excelled him in 
 knowledge of the reflex influence which circumstances in 
 general have on human opinions and actions. 'He super- 
 intended with the most assiduous attention the education 
 of his godson, the earl of Richmond (natural son of the 
 king), and in his own hand- writing drew up a plan of the 
 
 * Sec an Essay on a system of Classical Instruction (London, John 
 Taylor, 1829), for the remainder of this interesting letter, in which WoUey 
 lays down the course of studies to be pursued in his sciiool with singular 
 professional minuteness. 
 
 i 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 127 
 
 household and domestic arrangements, in which the mi- 
 nutest particulars were noted, of that young nobleman, on 
 his entering the sixth year of his age. He also superin- 
 tended the domestic education of the princess Mary ; and, 
 in the height of his power and ambition, stooped to deter- 
 mine whether or not the princess should have "spice 
 plates and a ship of silver for the almes dishe," and if a 
 "trumpet and rebeks" were a fitting toy for her pastime 
 hours " at the solempne fest of Christmas." He is but 
 little read in the philosophy of the human heart, and holds 
 but little sympathy with the labors of a Locke and a Fen- 
 elon, who does not admire these proofs of the loftiest 
 wisdom, and as such of the loftiest benevolence. Would 
 that Wolsey had not wasted his fine talents in the mad 
 dreams of ambition, but had applied them to the improve- 
 ment of the social elements of human happiness ! How 
 much more would he thus have benefited mankind, and 
 how much more would he have contributed to his own 
 peace of mind, and to his honorable claims upon the grat- 
 itude and admiration of posterity ! 
 
 The spirit of rigid and minute detail which we have 
 been just noticing, and which, like his love of the trap- 
 pings and ceremony of office, was fostered, if not gene- 
 rated, by the genius of the Catholic worship, is seen in 
 his bills for the improvement of trade, — a subject to 
 which he gave great attention, — and for amending the 
 various processes of the law, which, as lord chancellor, he 
 alone then had the right of bringing before parliament. 
 The great truth (beginning at length to be known by 
 legislators and other men " wise in their generation"), that 
 all that trade wants to thrive, is to be let alone, was not 
 known for centuries after the time of Wolsey ; therefore 
 we need not be surprised to find that the restrictive, and 
 protective, and prohibitive principles, in all their perfec- 
 tion, are those by which he was actuated, and as a con- 
 sequence, that he injured the general commerce of the 
 country much more than he benefited particular " inter- 
 ests." The very number and minuteness, however, of 
 those bills and restrictions entitle him to our praise, evin- 
 cing as they do a statesmanlike view of the importance 
 of trade far beyond his age, though they betray a common 
 ignorance of the best mode of promoting it. Some of 
 those restrictions were of a ludicrously oppressive nature, 
 particularly from the minute rigidness with which he caused 
 them to be enforced. Acts had been passed regulating the 
 rates of wages of laborers, the hours of meals and rest, 
 
128 
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 and, with a view probably to encourage some domestic 
 manufacture, specifying the apparel of the "operative" 
 classes, to be worn under penalty and forfeiture. This 
 petty legislation, as might naturally be expected, proved 
 highly unpopular. At Rochester the just indignation of 
 the populace burst forth on seeing a man pOloried for 
 merely wearing a " ryven" shirt instead of the texture 
 prescribed by act of parliament. Wolsey was too stiff- 
 necked to abate a jot of any restriction, however minute 
 or vexatious, when once it had received the sanction of the 
 legislature, and therefore rigidly enforced those oppres- 
 sive and useless statutes ; he himself, " observing one 
 day an elderly man in an old crimson jacket, adorned 
 with various broaches, with his own hands took from him 
 the prohibited dress," by way of example to his commis- 
 sioners. 
 
 We possess the most unquestionable authority of the 
 ability and general impartiality of the cardinal's adminis- 
 tration in the court of chancery, in which he "spared 
 neither high nor low, but judged every estate according to 
 their merits and deserts." Sir Thomas More thus writes to 
 his friend Erasmus : — " The archbishop of Canterbury" 
 (Warham, whom historians and biographers, including 
 Cavendish himself, erroneously represent to have resign- 
 ed the seals from disgust at Wolsey's towering ascen- 
 dancy) " has at length resigned the office of chancellor ; 
 which burthen, as you know, he had strenuously endeavor- 
 ed to lay down for some years ; and, the long- wished for 
 retreat being now attained, he enjoys a most pleasant 
 recess in his studies, with the agreeable reflection of 
 having acquitted himself so honorably in that high station. 
 The cardinal of York succeeds him, who discharges 
 the duties of that post so admirably as to surpass the 
 hopes of all, notwithstanding the great opinion of his 
 other eminent qualities, and, which is more rare, to give 
 pleasure and satisfaction after so excellent a predecessor." 
 We need not say more on the ability of Wolsey's chan- 
 cellorship, and will only add, on the subject of his legal 
 administration, that he instituted the most salutary regula- 
 tions for the prevention and punishment of perjury and 
 highway robbery, then very common crimes ; that he also 
 established courts for protecting the poor against the 
 oppression of the rich ; and that his ingenuity and influ- 
 ence were sedulously applied, during his entire career, to 
 rendering the laws intelligible, simple, cheap, and respect- 
 ed. So far his country was his debtor. 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 129 
 
 It was during the administration of Wolsey that 
 Martin Luther sounded the tocsin of religious freedom 
 in Germany, by which the usurped authority of the 
 bishops of Rome was shaken to its foundation. The 
 tide of the reformation had not, however, yet flowed into 
 England, where the public mind was perhaps still more 
 fitted for its reception; so that the cardinal was not 
 called on to adopt any very decided measures in obedi- 
 ence to his master's purpose either of forwarding or re- 
 tarding it. It is probable that he conceived the conduct 
 of Luther merely as that of a temporary schismatic, whose 
 bold insolence would abate as its novelty faded, and as 
 the selfish passions which were mixed up with its birth 
 yielded to the influence of time and expostulation. The 
 features of the reformation were not revealed in all their 
 brightness, depth, and breadth, even to its authors, or, 
 more properly speaking, its immediate instruments, for 
 years after the death of Wolsey ; so that it is not to be 
 wondered at tliat he viewed the " affair" of the professor 
 of Wittenberg with the pope, concerning the sale of in- 
 dulgences and the amount of the authority of the papal 
 see, for a long time, with something of the indifference of 
 a passing incident. He was himself very much inclined 
 for "a reformation of the head and members" of the 
 church, as appears from his approval of the instructions to 
 the English representatives at the council ofLateran;* 
 and from his anxiety to correct the ignorance and licen- 
 tious habits of the inferior clergy. But throwing off the 
 yoke of the Roman see, toiling as he was with feverish 
 ambition for the chair of St. Peter, was an end that he 
 never for a moment could contemplate, and would resist 
 with all his energy. 
 
 Our readers are aware that Henry won the title of the 
 " Defender of the Faith" from the pope, as the reward of 
 his book against the " blasphemous, atheistical and sacrile- 
 gious" tenets of Luther. Though it should seem that 
 Wolsey had no share in the composition of the work, yet 
 we learn, from Roper's Life of Sir Thomas More, that 
 that most excellent man was over-ruled by him, in his advice 
 to Henry, to omit, or at least to qualify, that portion in 
 which the papal supremacy is asserted ; and the cardinal's 
 own letter to the pope, which accompanied a copy of the 
 work, shows his anxiety to have it inferred that Henry's 
 
 *This council was summoned in 1511, by Julius II., to counteract the 
 effect of the antagonist council of Pisa. The English representatives are 
 enjoined to seek " pro bono universalis ecclesiae Cathohc», et pro refor- 
 matione ejus, tarn in capite, quam in viembri3."—Ryiner, 325. 
 
130 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 zeal against Luther was mainly instigated by his minister. 
 He could not, however, even though personally inclined, 
 remain a passive spectator of the progress of the Lutheran 
 controversy, after his master had thus decidedly thrown 
 down the gauntlet against the Wittenberg professor. 
 Accordingly he caused pope Leo's bull against Luther to be 
 posted on every church door in England, along with the 
 forty-two " damnable and pestiferous" errors of that great 
 reformer ; by which means, as must have been obvious, 
 had he bestowed on the act u few moments' serious 
 reflection, he strongly favored the growth and spread 
 of the " noxious briars" which it was intended to eradi- 
 cate. 
 
 Neither did Luther himself perceive the advantage 
 to the new doctrines of thus fixing them upon the atten- 
 tion of the public mind ; for, looking only to the motive 
 and the insult, he denounced (in his Apologetical Letter 
 to Henry, the most extraordinary of all his extraordinary 
 publications) Wolsey, with his usual vehemence and 
 coarseness, calling him " illud monstrum et publicum 
 odium Dei et hominum, Cardinalis Eboracensis, pestis ilia 
 regni tui, " &c. This abuse had the eJSect of sharpening 
 Wolsey's judgment; for we find that he immediately 
 issued a command, requiring all persons, under pain of 
 excommunication, to deliver up every work of Luther in 
 their possession. He also applied himself, with redou- 
 bled zeal, to the improvement of the schools and colleges 
 throughout the kingdom ; revised the statutes of the uni- 
 versities ; took a warm interest in the success and arrange- 
 ments of St. Paul's school, lately founded under the cele- 
 brated dean Colet: in fact, he seemed determined to 
 supply the church, in the event of a combat, with its most 
 fitting armory — the superior morals and learning of its min- 
 isters. " Learning to learning," was his mode of religious 
 warfare ; there being nothing vindictive or sanguinary in 
 Wolsey's character, where his personal feelings were not 
 offended ; and it should be remembered, to his credit, 
 that one article of his impeachment was his remissness in 
 hunting and punishing heretics, as those who had adopted 
 the tenets of Luther were then designated. 
 
 Wolsey had now for many years exercised the entire 
 ecclesiastical and civil power of the kingdom with un- 
 controlled authority, and without any diminution of his 
 master's confidence. His talents, as we before observed, 
 had unfolded themselves as the field of their exertion had 
 widened, while his unpopularity outran both, till it be- 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 131 
 
 came universal. The nobility hated him for the stern 
 iron rule by which he compelled them to obey the laws, 
 and for monopolizing with haughty ostentation the royal 
 confidence and favor, which they considered to be their 
 birthright Proud of their ancient descent, they could 
 ill brook such imperious sway, even from the monarch, 
 and burned with indignation at being obliged to bow and 
 cringe to an arrogant " butcher's boy," who set no limits 
 to his demands on their respectful bearing. They re- 
 garded him, moreover, as the murderer of the most 
 illustrious of their body, Stafford, the duke of Bucking- 
 ham,* though the death of that nobleman was at least as 
 much the consequence of Henry's savage jealousy of his 
 Plantagenet blood as of the cardinal's vindictiveness. 
 His arbitrary oppressions in the shape of loans and benevo- 
 lences, and his still more arbitrary attempt to levy taxes 
 without the aid of parliament, had earned him the resent- 
 ment of the poorer classes (always prone to regard with 
 envious hatred the conduct of men of lowly origin), and 
 of the small band of patriots who, even in that despotic age, 
 cherished a love of constitutional freedom. On the other 
 hand, his undisguised contempt of the ignorance and gross 
 habits of the mass of the clergy, and his arbitrary efforts to 
 punish and amend both, could not fail to make him the 
 object of resentment of a body whose ill-will is proverbial- 
 ly implacable, and which, in the instance of Wolsey, was 
 the more natural, as they " thought it did not become him, 
 whose vices were notorious and scandalous, to tax others 
 whose faults were neither so great nor so eminent as his 
 were." 
 
 For all these reasons, Wolsey's administration was high- 
 ly unpopular, and his destruction sought afler by a host of 
 eager enemies. But till the affair of the divorce from 
 queen Catharine, and consequent marriage with Anne 
 Boleynf — that is, till his will and appetite were inflamed 
 
 * Granger tells, on the authority of Dod's Church History, that Wolsey, 
 either from vanity or insolence, washed in the basin which the duke had 
 just before held to the king while he washed his hands ; upon which the 
 duke poured the water into the cardinal's shoes. This so provoked the 
 haughty prelate, that he threatened to sit upon his skirts : which menace 
 occasioned the duke's having no skirts to his coat when he next appeared 
 in the royal presence. The king asking the reason of this singular appear- 
 ance, the duke told him that it was only to disappoint the cardmal. 
 
 t The language of Cavendish on this head is amusingly characteristic of 
 the metaphorical phraseology of the age. " Thus passed the cardinal hia 
 life and time from day to day, and year to year, in such great wealth, joy, 
 and triumph, and glory, having always on his side the king's special favor ; 
 until Fortune, of whose favor no man is longer assured than she is disposed, 
 began to wax something wroth 'with his prosperous estate, and thought she 
 would devise a means to abate his high port; wherefore she procured Ve- 
 
132 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 and thwarted by delay and opposition — there appears to 
 have been no change in the feelings of the king towards 
 his favorite. Then, indeed, Wolsey's fall was as rapid and 
 astounding as his rise ; and then it was that Henry verified 
 a remarkable declaration of his to one who warned him of 
 his favorite's power and munificence — " The hand that 
 made him can destroy him when it lists." Wolsey was 
 himself the first to perceive what his knowledge of Henry's 
 unsteady temper, and of the precarious nature of his hold 
 on his affections, must have often presented to his fancy 
 in those moments of prophetic sadness which steal over us 
 even in our most prosperous and happy hours ; and proba- 
 bly the magnificent gift of Hampton Court to his master 
 was the consequence of his perceiving some unconscious 
 workings in the royal mind of jealousy of his extraordina- 
 ry wealth and unsubjectlike splendor. Be that as it may, 
 the effect of the gifl was to deafen the king to the com- 
 plaints and insinuations that were constantly thrown out 
 against the cardinal, and to make the latter indulge his 
 passion for pomp and regal magnificence with more osten- 
 tation than ever. 
 
 It does not fall within our design to repeat what histo- 
 rians have informed us of the proceedings in the case of 
 the divorce of queen Catharine, more than belongs to the 
 part which Wolsey took in them, and to the manner in 
 which they affected his fortunes. It does not appear when 
 Henry first communicated to his minister his scruples of 
 the legality of his marriage with his brother's widow ; but 
 they were no sooner communicated, than acknowledged 
 to be well founded. These scruples, it is perhaps neces- 
 sary to premise, were as old as the marriage itself; a dis- 
 pensation of the pope being required before it could be en- 
 tered into, and the prince himself being only twelve years 
 old when the contract was ratified. Henry VII. never in- 
 tended that the contract should be permanently binding, and 
 only employed it as a pretext for not repaying the large 
 sum which Catharine brought as her dowry. He ordered 
 the prince to protest against it as soon as he became of 
 age ; and charged him, on his deathbed, as his last injunc- 
 tion, not to fulfil an alliance so unprecedented, and so 
 exposed to insurmountable objections. But Henry was in 
 the height of youth and passion, and spurned all remon- 
 
 nu8, the insatiate goddess^ to be hor instrument. To work her purpose, she 
 brought the kinp in love with a gentlewoman, that, after she perceived 
 and felt the king's good will towards her, and how diligent he was both to 
 please her, and to grant all her requests, she wrought the cardinal much 
 displcasuro, as» hereafter shall be more at largo declared." 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 133 
 
 strance. For eighteen years the legality of the marris^e 
 W6LS not doubted, though indeed the legitimacy of the 
 princess Mary, the only surviving child of this union, was 
 objected to by the states of Castile whilst her marriage 
 with the emperor Charles was negotiated, and by the am- 
 bassador of France when it was intended to betroth her to 
 one of the French king's brothers. 
 
 Years, however, passed on, without any particular men- 
 tion of the scruples, till what Fuller designates the " cun- 
 ning chastity" of Anne Boleyn made her refuse to share 
 Henry's bed but as his lawful wife. Queen Catharine 
 had become old and past child-bearing : Henry, burning 
 with a new passion, loathed her with the aversion of 
 satiety : the scruples concerning the legality of the con- 
 tract rushed to his assistance ; all his bishops, Fisher 
 excepted, assured him, and Thomas Aquinas convinced 
 him, that the marriage was unlawful. He communicated 
 his conviction to Wolsey,* and that pliant minister pledged 
 himself to " bring the matter about to his heart's content,'* 
 so far as the pope was concerned. This happened in 1527, 
 as Wolsey was about to set out on an embassy to France, 
 to conclude a close alliance between the two crowns, and 
 to treat for the liberation of the captive pontiff; an embassy 
 which Cavendish with plausibility ascribes to the malice 
 of his enemies, " in order to get him out of the king's daily 
 presence, and to convey him out of the realm, that they 
 might have convenient leisure and opportunity to adventure 
 their long-desired enterprise ; and by the aid of their chief 
 mistress, my lady Ann, to deprove him so unto the king in 
 his absence, that he would be rather in his high displeas- 
 ure, than in his accustomed favor ; or at the least to be in 
 less estimation with his majesty." 
 
 The cardinal conducted this embassy with even more 
 than his usual state and magnificence, and was received 
 every where with a respect only paid to the most power- 
 ful mpnarchs. His train consisted of 1200 lords and gen- 
 tlemen on horseback, attired in the most costly livery. 
 
 " On his landing at Calais, he called before him all his 
 noblemen and gentlemen into his privy chamber ; where 
 
 * Both the queen and her nephew, the emperor Charles, charged Wolsey 
 with having originated the divorce indirectly through the bishop of Tarbes. 
 " Of this trouble I may only thank you, my lord cardinal of York ; for, be- 
 cause I have wondered at your high pride and vain glory, and abhor your 
 voluptuous life, and little regard your presumptuous power and tyranny, 
 therefore of malice you have kindled this fire, and set this matter abroad, and in 
 especial for the great malice that you bear to my nephew the emperor, be- 
 cause he would not satisfy your ambition, and make you pope by force." 
 Hall. And to the same effect Charles in Le Qrand. 
 VOL. I. 12 
 
134 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 they being assembled, [he] said unto them in this wise 
 in effect: — *I have called you hither to this intent, to 
 declare unto you, that I considering the intelligence 
 that ye minister unto me, and the good will that I 
 bear you again for the same, intending to remember your 
 diligent service hereafter, in place where ye shall receive 
 condign thanks and rewards. And also I would show you 
 further what authority I have received directly from the 
 king's highness ; and to instruct you somewhat of the na- 
 ture of the Frenchmen ; and then to inform you what 
 reverence ye shall use unto me for the high honor of the 
 king's majesty, and also how ye shall entertain the French- 
 men, whensoever ye shall meet at any time. First, ye 
 shall understand that the king's majesty, upon certain 
 weighty considerations, hath, for the more advancement 
 of his royal dignity, assigned me in this journey to be his 
 lieutenant-general ; and what reverence belongeth to the 
 same I will tell you. That for my part I must, by virtue 
 of my commission of lieutenantship, assume and take upon 
 me, in all honors and degrees, to have all such service 
 and reverence as to his highness's presence is meet and 
 due ; and nothing thereof to be neglected or omitted by 
 me that to his royal estate is appurtenant. And for my 
 part, ye shall see me that I will not omit one jot thereof. 
 Therefore, because ye shall not be ignorant in that behalf, 
 is one of the special causes of this your assembly ; wUling 
 and commanding you, as ye entend my favor, not to forget 
 the same in time and place, but every of you do observe this 
 information and instruction as ye will at my return avoid 
 the king's indignation, but to obtain his highness's thanks, 
 the which I will further for you as ye shall deserve. 
 
 "'Now to the point of the Frenchmen's nature, — ye 
 shall understand that their disposition is such, that they 
 will be at the first meeting as familiar with you as they had 
 been acquainted with you long before, and commune with 
 you in the French tongue as though ye understood every 
 word they spake : therefore in like manner, be ye as fa- 
 miliar with them again as they be with you. If they speaJc 
 to you in the French tongue, speak you to them in the 
 English tongue ; for if you understand not them, they 
 shall no more understand you.' And my lord speaking 
 merrily to one of the gentlemen there, being a Welshman, 
 ' Rice,' quoth he, ' speak thou Welsh to him, and I am well 
 assured that thy Welsh shall be more diffuse to him than 
 his French shall be to thee.' And then quoth he again to 
 us all, ' Let all your entertainment and behavior be accord- 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY, 135 
 
 ing to all gentleness and humajiity, that it may be report- 
 ed, after your departure from thence, that ye be gentlemen 
 of right good behavior, and of much gentleness, and that ye 
 be men that know your duty to your sovereign lord, and to 
 your master, allowing much your great reverence. Thus 
 shall ye not only obtain to yourselves great commendation 
 and praise for the same, but also advance the honor of your 
 prince and country. Now go your ways, admonished of 
 all these points, and prepare yourselves against to-morrow ; 
 for then we intend, God willing, to set forward."* 
 
 Wolsey's "progress" from Calais to Amiens, where 
 Francis awaited him, was accompanied with all the honors 
 and privileges of royalty, — here, as a cardinal, proclaiming 
 a day for the remission of sins — there, exercising the re- 
 gal privilege of relieving confined debtors. As he was in 
 the height of his resentment against Charles, and did not 
 yet despair of the popedom, he concluded a most solemn- 
 ly binding compact on the part of his sovereign with the 
 French king, and strove to win that monarch to his per- 
 sonal interests by all possible expedients. Among the 
 rest, he promised to have his master's marriage with queen 
 Catharine annulled by the pope ; and the princess Ren^e, 
 Francis's sister-in-law, made queen of England. Full of 
 this project, he returned home. 
 
 He met the king in Kent, on his way to London, and 
 entered into an explanation of his embassy, dwelling par- 
 ticularly on the advantages of the projected alliance with 
 a French princess. Henry received him coldly, and told 
 him that he did not want a French princess, for that Anne 
 Boleyn should be his queen as soon as Wolsey's zeal had 
 obtained the papal sanction. The cardinal was thunder- 
 struck at this declaration, for he saw in its fulfilment his 
 inevitable ruin. He was not ignorant of the king's passion 
 for Anne ; for, at Henry's command, he had, long before 
 his embassy, annulled her contract witli lord Percy, and 
 had compelled that young nobleman to marry another lady ; 
 but he considered it to be the mere ebullition of lust, which 
 would most probably end in her becoming the king's con- 
 cubine. Still considering the king's resolution to be dic- 
 tated by his coarser feelings, he threw himself at Henry's 
 knees, and implored him not to persist in it, urging every 
 topic he thought likely to aflTect his pride or his interest. 
 But he might as well bay the moon as attempt to talk 
 Henry's appetite into moderation. He was dismissed with 
 a command to lose no time in fulfilling his promise of 
 "bringing the affair of the divorce about to the king's 
 * Cavendish. 
 
136 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 satisfaction." Notwithstanding^ this rebuff, Wolsey did 
 not altogether abandon his French alliance ; for he still 
 trusted in the effect of delay in abating the fervor of his 
 master's present passion, and in thereby disposing him to 
 entertain his project with less reluctance on a future 
 occasion. He knew, however, that, whatever should be 
 the result of the affair with Anne Boleyn, it " would be 
 as much as his life was worth" to procure the papal dis- 
 pensation ; and accordingly applied himself with extraor- 
 dinary zeal to gain the pope over to his purpose. 
 
 Our readers, we take it for granted, are acquainted with 
 the evasive conduct of Clement VII. in the matter of the 
 divorce ; with his vacillations between the " hammer 
 and the forge," as he himself termed it — his fears to offend 
 the emperor, whose prisoner he lately was, and his anxiety 
 to be on good terms with the court of England ; with the 
 proceedings of the trial opened before his legates Campeg- 
 gio and Wolsey (which the pen of Shakspeare has record- 
 ed in his imperishable language, and which the genius 
 of Mrs. Siddons, and the classic taste of the Kembles, 
 has pictured in a style worthy of that language on the 
 memory of the fading generation); with the artful ad- 
 journing of the process to Rome ; and with all the schemes 
 employed by that subtle court to delay the adverse decis- 
 ion to the last moment. Wolsey was no party to these 
 time-killing evasions. On the contrary, his letters betoken 
 a deep and feverish anxiety to have the decretal bull issued 
 •without delay or qualification. In the letter in which he 
 congratulates the pope on his obtaining his liberty, he 
 urges him to despatch the king's business. " This only I 
 will add," he says, " that that which is desired is holy and 
 just, and very much for the safety and quiet of the king- 
 dom, which is most devoted to the apostolic see." He 
 told Clement that his delaying the bull would be his cer- 
 tain ruin, and would endanger the obedience of the crown 
 of England to the papal see. He wrote long and most 
 earnest letters to the ambassadors at Rome, in which all 
 the arguments that a most anxious mind could devise are 
 forcibly urged to persuade the pope to grant the king's 
 desire. He offers to take the blame of the entire proceed- 
 ing " on his own soul," if there was any thing informal or 
 " amiss" in it. He entreated Campeggio, who was sought 
 for as the legate, " for his known tractableness,'* to hasten 
 to England, as he valued his own interest and his friend's 
 safety. In another letter Wolsey writes, " For my part, I 
 would expose any thing to my life, yea life itself, rather 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY.' 13t 
 
 than see the inconveniences that may ensue upon disap- 
 pointing of the king's desires." 
 
 But all this zeal availed him not : the friends of Anne 
 were his implacable enemies ; and she was easily led to 
 believe that the delay of her marriage* was wholly owing 
 to his predilection for another alliance. This being a 
 crime which the female heart never forgives, she lost no 
 opportunity of poisoning the ear of her royal lover against 
 his favorite. On the other hand, the friends of the queen 
 regarded him as the prime mover and originator of the whole 
 proceeding, unmindful of the king's solemn declaration 
 to the contrary, and sought his destruction with all the 
 virulence of insulted honor, sharpened by revenge. It 
 was suggested to Henry, that all the crosses and evasions, 
 with which the pope had so long thwarted his matrimonial 
 designs, were but the cardinal's artifices to change his 
 purpose, by wearing out his hopes of its being successful. 
 Irritated almost to madness by the obstacles which papal 
 chicanery had placed in the way of the gratification of his 
 passion, he gave a willing ear to the suggestion, and vent- 
 ed his long-suppressed indignation upon the cardinal. 
 The high opinion which he had so long entertained of 
 Wolsey's capacity now only contributed to inflame his 
 new feeling against him, and to hasten his downfall. He 
 would not believe that the cardinal could fail, if his fidelity 
 
 *The reader will, we are sure, be gratified by perusing the following 
 naive letter from Anne Boleyn to Wolsey concerning the dispensation for 
 her marriage : — 
 
 " My lord, 
 " In my most humblest wise that my poor heart can think, I do thank 
 your grace for your kind letter, and for your rich and goodly present, the 
 which I shall never be able to deserve without your help : of the which I 
 have hitherto had so great plenty, that all the days of my life I am most 
 bound of all creatures, next the king's grace, to love and serve your grace : 
 of the which I beseech you never to doubt that ever I shall vary from this 
 thought as long as any breath is in my body. And as touching your grace's 
 trouble with the sweat [this allusion to the ' sweating sickness ' shows tho 
 letter to have been written in 15281, I thank our Lord that them that 
 I desired and prayed for are scaped, and that is the king and you ; not 
 doubting but that God has preserved you both for great causes, known only 
 of his high wisdom. And as for the coming of the legate, I desire that 
 much, and if it be God's pleasure, I pray him to send this matter shortly 
 to a good end, and then I trust, my lord, to recompense part of your great 
 pains. In the which I must require you in the mean time to accept ray 
 good will, in the stead of the power, the which must proceed partly from 
 you, as our Lord knoweth ; to whom I beseech to send you long life, with 
 continuance in honor. Written with the hand of her that is most bound 
 to be, 
 
 " Your humble and obedient servant, 
 
 " Anne Boleyn." 
 
 The reader will find many other equally interesting letters of Anne, and 
 the other parties engagfed in the divorce, in Burnet. 
 
 12 * 
 
138 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 went along with his zeal, and therefore thought that he must 
 have been "juggling all this time in the business." 
 
 But the blow did not fall instantly, though Wolsey knew 
 it was now inevitable. At the close of the legatine court 
 one day, Henry ordered the cardinal to attend him at the 
 palace of Bridewell adjoining. For an hour the indignant 
 sovereign showered on the head of the devoted minister 
 the most vehement abuse for the delay that had taken 
 place in the business. Wolsey in vain attempted to jus- 
 tify his conduct. The king abruptly dismissed him, and 
 the cardinal sought the respite of his own palace at West- 
 minster. The bishop of Carlisle, who entered the barge 
 with him at Blackfriars, remarked that " it was a very hot 
 day." — " Yes," replied Wolsey, " and if you had been as 
 much chafed as I have been within this hour, you would 
 indeed say it was very hot." 
 
 Oppressed, exhausted, and heart-broken, the cardinal 
 immediately went to bed on arriving at his residence 
 (York-house, now Whitehall palace), but was almost as 
 soon compelled to return to Bridewell, by the king's com- 
 mand, requiring the immediate interposition of the legates 
 with the queen, then at the palace. He had here to en- 
 counter the mortifying taunts and vituperation of the en- 
 raged princess, upon whom he could make no favorable 
 impression. Another interview with Henry, to communi- 
 cate the unsuccessful issue of his interposition, finished 
 this day's anxiety. A few days after, Campeggio abruptly 
 adjourned the court to October, without coming to any 
 decision. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the surprise and indignation of 
 the king at this proceeding. The whole court complained 
 of the delay, and pressed the legates to give sentence. 
 Campeggio said he could not till October. " Upon which 
 the lords spake very high ; and the duke of Suffolk, with 
 great commotion, swore ' by the mass, that he saw it was 
 true which had been commonly said, that never cardinal 
 yet did good in England ;' and so all the temporal lords 
 went away in a fury, leaving the legates, Wolsey in par- 
 ticular, in no small perplexity." Wolsey against whom 
 Suffolk's declaration was wholly aimed, from this learned 
 that the courtiers clearly saw that his fall was at hand. 
 Nothing more, however, happened at this time, for the 
 king immediately left town on a progress with his mis- 
 tress. 
 
 The two cardinals waited on Henry at Grafton in 
 Northamptonshire. Wolsey's pride and hopes received 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 139 
 
 here their fatal blow ; for the courtiers who attended the 
 king no longer disguised their insolence and resentment, 
 a.nd, knowing his disgrace to have been fixed upon, actually 
 " laid many great wagers that his majesty would not speak 
 with the lord cardinal." His mortifications did not end here. 
 On reaching the entrance of the court, Campeggio was 
 immediately conducted to an apartment prepared for him, 
 and Wolsey, with dismay, heard that no order for his ac- 
 commodation had been issued. The delicate and most 
 considerate courtesy of sir Henry Norris, a young and 
 ''I vored attendant of the king (who was not long afterwards 
 vecuted for an alleged criminality with Anne Boleyn), in 
 . ome degree relieved him from the embarrassments of hie 
 situation. The knight begged Wolsey to accept of his 
 apartment, aflfecting to ascribe the manifest neglect of the 
 cardinal to the limited arrangements of the king's present 
 residence. 
 
 From Norris, Wolsey soon learned what was known at 
 court of Henry's estrangement from his minister. A ray 
 of sunshine, however, for a moment lit up Wolsey's for* 
 tunes. The cardinal was bidden to tlie royal presence, 
 and was received courteously, even kindly. The presence 
 of the man who had so long maintained an ascendant over 
 his aff*ections, and in whom he had reposed such unlimited 
 confidence, melted the stubborn heart of Henry, who ever 
 acted in obedience to the passing impulse. He raised 
 Wolsey from his kneeling posture, and leading him by the 
 hand to the recess of a window, conversed with him lon^ 
 and earnestly. From the expressions, however, which 
 reached the ear of Cavendish, it should seem that Henry 
 was accusing him of some deception in his conduct as 
 minister. " How can that be ? is not this your own 
 hand ?" said the king, plucking out of his bosom a letter 
 or writing, and showing him the same. Wolsey was then 
 dismissed to dinner, with the promise of another interview 
 on the morrow. That interview, however, was not grant- 
 ed ; for Anne Boleyn, who w^as urged by her uncle, the 
 duke of Norfolk, and her own inclination, to employ all 
 her influence to prevent their enemy's return to favor, had 
 engaged the amorous monarch in a sylvan excursion in a 
 neighboring park, and Wolsey never afterwards saw his 
 royal master. 
 
 Scarcely had Campeggio separated from his colleague, 
 than his baggage was examined, Henry suspecting that 
 Wolsey was transmitting through him the means of pro- 
 viding for himself abroad, in the event of his escaping 
 
140 
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 from the kingdom. But a provision for a future day had 
 never once crossed the cardinal's mind through his whole 
 career : rapacity was in him a means of which lavish mag- 
 nificence, and not griping avarice, was the sole end. 
 
 On his return to London, he opened the court of chan- 
 cery with his wonted parade. It was his last exercise of 
 the high functions of lord chancellor. The next morning 
 he was waited on by the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk 
 and the great seal demanded from him. He refused to 
 deliver it up on a mere verbal order, and without a formal 
 letter to that effect from the king's own hand. He proba- 
 bly expected that the reflection which attends the act of 
 writing, and delay in the execution of a design, would 
 induce Henry to soften, if not altogether revoke, his order. 
 He was disappointed : on the following day the two dukes 
 bore away the insignia of his office, first presenting him 
 with their master's written authority. He was at the same 
 time commanded to give up York palace, built by himself 
 on the property of the see of York, and to reside in Esher 
 adjoining Hampton Court, another palace, also built by 
 him, belonging to the bishopric of Winchester. 
 
 Wolsey, having taken a farewell surveyjof the costly 
 furniture of his princely mansion, which exceeded in 
 splendor any thing ever seen before in England (an inven- 
 tory of it is still preserved in the Harleian MSS. in the 
 British Museum), set out on his way to Esher. He was 
 rowed in his barge to Putney, where his mules and horses 
 awaited him. An incident occurred on this journey which 
 is calculated to excite our disgust at his meanness ; not 
 the less so, perhaps, when his former overbearing haugh- 
 tiness of deportment presents itself to our recollection. 
 Not, indeed, that there is any thing inconsistent or unu- 
 sual in this mixture of inordinate pride and base abject- 
 ness of nature. They are both the offspring of selfishness 
 and hollowness of heart. — 
 
 " Proud men are base, to compass their desire; 
 They lowest crouch, that highest do aspire." 
 
 Scarcely had he proceeded on his mule, when sir Henry 
 Norris rode up to him, and hailed him with the glad tid^ 
 ings,- that " the king commanded his grace to be of gooc 
 cheer, for that he was as much in his favor as he had evei 
 been." These " good and comfortable " words were ac 
 companied by a well-known ring, which Henry sent h' 
 as a certain token of his favor. Wolsey was at first over- 
 powered by the extravagance of his transports of joy. He 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 141 
 
 prostrated himself " on his knees in the mire," and with 
 the wildest gestures of gratitude invoked the blessings of 
 heaven on his royal master. The young knight, amazed 
 at this abasement of the haughty prelate, knelt down 
 beside him, and besought him to give credence to his 
 message. But the other, almost choked with emotion, 
 could only ejaculate his broken thanks to his God and his 
 king ; showing thereby, observes Burnet, how mean a soul 
 he had, and that, as he himself afterwards acknowledged, 
 " he preferred the king's favor to God Almighty's." On 
 parting, he gave Norris a piece of the " real holy cross," 
 which he wore round his neck, as a token of his friendship. 
 " Gentle Norris ! if I were lord of a realm, the one half 
 thereof were an insufficient reward to give you for your 
 pains and right comfortable news. But, master Norris, 
 consider with me that I have nothing left me but my 
 clothes on my back ; therefore I desire you to take this 
 email reward of my hand." To the king he sent many 
 messages of devotion ; and recollecting, after taking leave 
 of the knight, that Henry prized a favorite fool he had in 
 his household, he recalled Norris, and bade the menial 
 accompany him to the king ; but the poor attached crea- 
 ture could with difficulty be compelled into his new ser- 
 vice, and not till the cardinal had ordered six of his stoutest 
 yeomen to enforce him ; — a striking instance, says the 
 chronicler, of his total regardlessness of the consequences 
 -to others of his attaining his end — self (in this case, a for- 
 getfulness, to say the least of it, of the lacerated feelings 
 of affection of a poor creature who was all feeling), even 
 in affliction. 
 
 Wolsey spent some weeks at Esher, a prey to his fears 
 and mortified ambition. As might be expected, the world, 
 that had paid him such abject court in his prosperity, de- 
 serted him in this fatal reverse of his fortune. Wolsey 
 was not himself prepared for what he conceived to be base 
 ingratitude : it surprised and depressed him ; and the same 
 pride, unsupported by true dignity of character, which 
 made him be vainly elated with his recent grandeur, made 
 him now doubly sensitive to the humiliations of adversity. 
 Under any circumstances, he would be unfit for solitude ; 
 the glory, more even than the power, annexed to high sta- 
 tion, and the gaze of the multitude, being the breath of his 
 nostrils ; the calm contentment of private life was to him 
 a sound of no meaning. What, then, must have been his 
 feelings in this first hour of his misery ? 
 
142 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Now the thought 
 
 Both of lost happiness (?) and lasting pain 
 Torments him." 
 
 Baffled in all the schemes of his ambition ; disgraced before 
 his rivals ; abandoned by the world, and forsaken by his 
 royal master ! — his heart was not yet sufficiently chastened 
 by affliction to seek for consolation in its only true source 
 — religion ; but still clung with the despair of a lover to 
 the hope of the royal mercy. His letters to Gardiner, 
 whom he had the merit of bringing forward from obscurity, 
 and who, excepting his other secretary, Cromwell, of all 
 his followers, alone retained grateful respect for their 
 benefactor in his fallen fortunes, bespeak the agony of his 
 feelings. They are usually subscribed, " With a rude hand 
 and sorrowful heart, T. CardJis. Ebor. miserrimus" and are 
 scarcely legible, from the excitement under which they 
 seem to have been written. 
 
 But the cup was not yet fflled to the brim : other crosses 
 and sorrows were necessary to wean Wolsey from worldly 
 ambition, and these were speedily inflicted on him. An 
 information was filed against him by the attorney-general, 
 for having, contrary to a statute of Richard II., called the 
 Statute of Provisors, exercised legatine authority in Eng- 
 land, and having procured bulls from Rome in that capaci- 
 ty. Wolsey confessed the indictment ; but pleaded usage 
 and ignorance of the statute, and threw himself on the 
 king's mercy. Nothing could be more unjust and tyran- 
 nical than the prosecution of what Henry had himself aJl 
 along openly sanctioned. The clergy at large were im- 
 plicated in the information, and were compelled to pur- 
 chase an indemnity with sums of money. Sentence was 
 at once pronounced against the cardinal : he was declared 
 to have incurred the penalties of a pramunire ; that is, 
 " that he was out of the king's protection, his lands and 
 goods forfeited, and that his person might be committed 
 to custody." 
 
 This harsh treatment produced its usual effects on the 
 public mind : the sight of fallen greatness, which, far 
 more than that of fallen virtue, wins the sympathy of the 
 multitude, converted the resentment and envy of the peo- 
 ple into compassion, and even kindliness of feeling. The 
 sentence, however, was not persisted in. Henry granted 
 his prostrate ex-minister a free pardon, and reinstated 
 him in the sees of York and Winchester. A wreck (to 
 the value of 63741.) of his immense property was restored 
 to him soon after. 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 143 
 
 This brief kindness of the king was but the last flicker- 
 ing of his better feelings towards the cardinal. He had 
 already promised Anne Boleyn that he would never see 
 him more, and Wolsey knew too well that his address in 
 personal conference was the only chance he had of re- 
 gaining his master's favor. Henry found that he could 
 do without him, both as a companion and as a minister ; 
 and, with the capricious selfishness of his temper, 
 " whistled " him down the winds for ever. Immediately 
 before he was forgiven the penalties of the " prsemunire," 
 he had ordered him to be indicted in the star-chamber, — 
 a court which he himself had restored,* as a curb on the 
 nobility, — for high treason. By that court he was handed 
 over to the vengeance of parliament, and there formally 
 attainted of high treason, in a bill containing forty-four 
 articles of impeachment. His gross arbitrary outrages 
 upon the constitution were wholly overlooked in this 
 attainder ; for these were not the oflfences a parliament of 
 Henry dared to punish, or that would incur his resentment ; 
 and the charges are chiefly against the abuses of his lega- 
 tine authority, and his haughty deportment in the council. 
 He was charged with having been the first to receive 
 letters from the king's ministers abroad (a curious charge 
 against a prime minister!); with having named himself 
 along with the king, as if he had been his fellow (the ego 
 et rex mens charge, which only betrays its framer's igno- 
 rance of the Latin idiom) ; with having whispered in the 
 king's ear, whilst he labored under a particular disease ; 
 with consuming too much time with a fair tale in the 
 council ; with allowing no opposition, and overwhelming 
 it with " his accustomable words," so that the members 
 were better hold their peace than speak ; with having 
 greatly overshadowed, for a long season, the king's honor ; 
 and with many other offences equally indicative of his 
 prosecutors' malevolence, and of the impression which his 
 
 * Sir Thomas Smith (in Jiis Commonwealth of England), secretary of 
 state under Edward VI. and Elizabeth, informs us that the court of star- 
 chamber " took augmentation and authority at the time that cardinal 
 Wolsey was chancellor of England, who of some wa« thought to have first 
 devised that court, because that he, after some intermission by negligence 
 of time, augmented the authority of it. The measure," he continues, 
 " was marvellous necessary to repress the insolence of the noblemen and 
 gentlemen of the north parts of England, who, being far from the king 
 and the seat of justice, made almost, as it were, an ordinary war among 
 themselves, and made their force their law, binding themselves, with their ' 
 tenants, and servants, to do or revenge injury one against another, as they 
 listed." 
 
 On the antiquity of the star-chamber see the introductory volume of 
 Brodie's History of the British Empire, and the first volume of Hallam's 
 Constitutional History of England, 
 
 A 
 
144 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 pride and haughtiness had made on his contemporaries. 
 The bill fleAv through the lords, by whom the cardinal was 
 hated to a man ; and was thrown out of the commons, as 
 the reader of history is aware, through the zeal, eloquence, 
 and honorable exertions of Cromwell. It was after the 
 failure of this parliamentary impeachment that he was 
 prosecuted, as we have narrated, under the Statute of 
 Provisors. 
 
 One honorable trait in the character of Wolsey, which 
 should have atoned for much of his sufferings, was brought 
 into relief by the privations which he now endured at 
 Esher — his affability and kindness to his servants and 
 followers. Unable to pay them the usual stipend, he 
 begged of them to provide themselves with a new master, 
 till fortune should have proved more auspicious. With 
 tears most of them refused to leave "so kind a master" in 
 his adversity. In this emergency, Cromwell suggested 
 an expedient, of which he set the first example. He 
 proposed a subscription among the chaplains and others 
 whom the cardinal had provided with livings. A common 
 fund was immediately subscribed, which enabled him to 
 pay off most of the arrears of his domestics' wages. This" 
 incident speaks volumes in favor of Cromwell's heart, 
 and of his benefactor's natural disposition. 
 
 The health of Wolsey at length began to sink under 
 his anxieties and privations, and the king was informed of 
 his condition. Henry immediately sent his own physician 
 to attend upon him. It was soon clear to Dr. Butt (the 
 physician's name), that unless he could "minister to a 
 mind diseased," his skill would be fruitless ; and he 
 accordingly informed the king that the sunshine of the 
 royal countenance would tend more to restore the patient 
 than all the drugs in his dominions. 
 
 " ' How doth yonder man ? have you seen him ?' — ' Yea, 
 sir,' quoth he. — ' How do you like him ?' quoth the king. 
 — '• Forsooth, sir,' quoth he, ' if you will have him dead, I 
 warrant your grace he will be dead within these four 
 days, if he receive no comfort from you shortly, and mis- 
 tress Anne.' — ' Marry,' quoth the king, ' God forbid that 
 he should die. I pray you, good master Buttes, go again 
 unto him, and do your cure upon him ; for I would not 
 lose him for twenty thousand pounds.' — ' Then must your 
 grace,' quoth master Buttes, ' send him first some comfort- 
 able message, as shortly as is possible.' — ' Even so will I,' 
 quoth the king, ' by you. And therefore make speed to 
 him again, and ye shall deliver him from me this ring for a 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 145 
 
 token of our good will and favor towards him (in the 
 which ring was engraved the king's visage within a ruby, 
 as lively counterfeit as was possible to be devised). This 
 ring he knoweth very well ; for he gave me the same ; 
 and tell him, that I am not offended with him in my heart 
 nothing at all, and that shall he perceive, and, God send 
 him life, very shortly. Therefore bid him be of good 
 cheer, and pluck up his heart, and take no despair. And 
 I charge you come not from him, until ye have brought 
 him out of all danger of death.' And then spake he to 
 mistress Anne, saying, ' Good sweetheart, I pray you at 
 this my instance, as ye love us, to send the cardinal a 
 token with comfortable words ; and in so doing ye shall 
 do us a loving pleasure.' She being not minded to disobey 
 the king's earnest request, whatsoever she intended in 
 her heart towards the cardinaJ, took incontinent her 
 tablet of gold hanging at her girdle, and delivered it to 
 master Buttes, with very gentle and comfortable words 
 and commendations to the cardinal. And thus master 
 Buttes departed, and made speedy return to Asher, to my 
 lord cardinal ; after whom the king sent doctor Clement, 
 doctor Wotton, and doctor Cromer the Scot, to consult 
 and assist master Buttes for my lord's health." 
 
 The influence of these cheering messages had very 
 soon a salutary effect on the cardinal's indisposition. He 
 was also allowed, for change of scene, to reside in the 
 palace of Richmond, which the king gave him, in return 
 for his magnificent present of Hampton Court, and some 
 of his furniture and other property was returned to him. 
 This was the last gleam of Henry's kindness for his favorite. 
 
 His enemies, however, were apprehensive of the pos- 
 sible consequences of his proximity to the royal residence, 
 and therefore obtained an order for him to repair to his 
 see of York, which he had never once visited since his 
 consecration. The cardinal, accordingly, by slow jour- 
 neys, proceeded to his archbishopric, and sojourned at 
 Southwell, near Newark, while Cawood castle, the archi- 
 episcopal palace, was undergoing repair. For the first 
 time in his life, Wolsey now conducted himself in a 
 manner worthy of a Christian clergyman, and gave to 
 •hurch dignitaries " a right good example how they might 
 win men's hearts." He interested himself deeply in the 
 concerns of the poor, reconciled their dissensions, and 
 healed their resentments ; and enforced the preaching of 
 sermons adapted in their tone to their wants and feelings. 
 To the gentry he was courteous and hospitable ; to the 
 
 VOL. I. 13 
 
146 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 lower classes kind and charitable ; and, as a just conse- 
 quence, reaped the invariable reward of such conduct, in 
 the love and gratitude of the one, and the unfeigned re- 
 spect and esteem of the other. This popularity hastened, 
 if it did not occasion, his final ruin. 
 
 The cardinal was preparing for his installation on the 
 morrow. About noon, just after he had himself dined, a 
 tumult was heard in the hall of Cawood castle. He was 
 informed by a domestic, that the hall was filled by the 
 armed retainers of the earl of Northumberland, his former 
 pupil, and of sir Walter Walshe, one of the gentlemen of 
 the king's privy chamber, and that the tumult was oc- 
 casioned by his porter's refusing to give up to the earl the 
 keys of the castle, which he demanded in the king's name. 
 The cardinal affected to consider the visit as one of hospi- 
 tality, and meeting his supposed guests on the great 
 stairs, chided them for taking him by surprise. The table 
 was ordered to be replenished with such provisions as the 
 castle afforded. The earl, confounded, and perhaps awed 
 by his former habits of reverence, at length made himself 
 up to say, in a faint and trembling voice, "My lord, I 
 arrest you of high treason." The cruelty of this last 
 attack was too much for the shattered frame of the car- 
 dinal — it killed him. 
 
 The narrative of Cavendish, who stayed with his master 
 till his last moments, from this point to the conclusion, is 
 full of deep moral pathos. Before Wolsey set out for his 
 trial, he was kept in close confinement in his own castle ; 
 and Cavendish alone was admitted to hold communication 
 with him. The cardinal, on seeing him, fell into a passion 
 of tears, which, says he, " would have caused the flintiest 
 heart to have relented and burst for sorrow." His pro- 
 gress to Doncaster bore testimony to the excellence of his 
 brief archiepiscopal administration : his domestics, and the 
 poor along the road, shed tears as he approached ; and on 
 their knees invoked blessings on his head, and vengeance 
 on his enemies. He was so weak and spirit-broken, that 
 ho was obliged to rest eighteen days at Sheffield-park, 
 where he was most humanely treated by its owner, the 
 carl of Shrewsbury. He was there informed that sir 
 William Kingston, the constable of the Tower, was com- 
 ing to conduct him to London. On hearing the name of 
 " Kingston," Wolsey was overcome by grief and conster- 
 nation ; for his mind, weakened by disease and calamity, 
 and imbued with a portion of the superstitious spirit of 
 the age, instantly saw in the name the fulfilment of a 
 prophecy, that he should end his davs near " Kingston ;" 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 147 
 
 on which account he never would pass through the town 
 of Kingston, that lay between London and his residence 
 at Esher. 
 
 The remainder of his story is quickly told. By great care 
 he was brought to the abbey of Leicester, which he enter- 
 ed by torch-light, observing, with a true presentiment, to 
 the abbot and monks, who received him with great rever- 
 ence, " Father abbot, I am come hither to lay my bones 
 among you." He was immediately placed in bed, whence 
 he never rose. His death was expected that night ; but 
 he rallied in the morning, and foretold, with the prophetic 
 accuracy of the dying, that he should expire at eight 
 o'clock that evening. 
 
 " Upon Monday in the morning, as I stood by his bed- 
 side, about eight of the clock, the windows being close 
 shut, having wax lights burning upon the cupboard, I 
 beheld him, as me seemed, drawing fast to his end. He, 
 perceiving my shadow upon the wall by his bed-side, asked 
 who was there. ' Sir, I am here,' quoth L — ' How do 
 you .5' quoth he to me. — ' Very well, sir,' quoth I, ' if I might 
 see your grace well.' — ' What is it of the clock ?' said he 
 to me. — ' Forsooth, sir,' said I, ' it is past eight of the clock 
 in the morning.' — ' Eight of the clock ?' quoth he ; ' that 
 cannot be ;' rehearsing divers times, ' eight of the clock, 
 eight of the clock : nay, nay,' quoth he at the last, * it can- 
 not be eight of the clock : for by eight of the clock ye shall 
 lose your master : for my time draweth near that I must 
 depart out of this world.' With that master doctor 
 Palmes, a worshipful gentleman, being his chaplain and 
 ghostly father, standing by, bade me secretly demand of 
 him if he would be shriven, and to be in a readiness towards 
 God, whatsoever should chance. At whose desire I asked 
 him that question. ' What have you to do to ask me any 
 such question ?' quoth he, and began to be very angry with 
 me for my presumption ; until at the last master doctor took 
 my part, and talked with him in Latin', and so pacified him." 
 
 Kingston entered, and bade him good morning. "I 
 tiury, master Kingston, but the will and pleasure of God, 
 to render unto him my simple soul into his divine hand." 
 After a pause, and after having explained the fatal nature 
 of his disease, dysentery, he addressed himself again to 
 Kingston as follows : — 
 
 " ' Master Kingston, my disease is such that I cannot 
 live ; I have had some experience in my disease, and thus 
 it is : I have a flux with a continual fever ; the nature 
 whereof is this, that if there be no alteration with me of 
 the same within eight days, then must either ensue exco- 
 
148 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 riation of the entrails, or frenzy, or else present death ; 
 and the best thereof is death. And as I suppose, this is 
 the eighth day : and if ye see in me no alteration, then is 
 there no remedy (although I may live a day or twaine) 
 but death, which is the best remedy of the three.' — ' Nay, 
 sir, in good faith,' quoth master Kingston, < you be in such 
 dolor and pensiveness, doubting that thing that indeed ye 
 need not to fear, which maketh you much worse than ye 
 should be.' — ' Well, well, master Kingston,' quoth he, ' I 
 see the matter against me how it is framed ; but if I had 
 served God as diligently* as I have done the king, he would 
 not have given me over in my gray hairs. Howbeit, this is 
 the just reward that I must receive for my worldly dili- 
 gence and pains that I have^ had to do him service ; only 
 to satisfy his vain pleasure, not regarding my godly duty. 
 Wherefore I pray you, with all my heart, to have me most 
 humbly commended unto his royal majesty ; beseeching 
 him in my behalf to call to his most gracious remembrance 
 all matters proceeding between him and me from the 
 beginning of the world unto this day, and the progress of 
 the same: and most chiefly in the weighty matter yet 
 depending (meaning the matter newly began between him 
 and good queen Katherine); then shall his conscience 
 declare, whether I have offended him or no. He is sure a 
 prince of a royal courage, and hath a princely heart ; and 
 rather than he will either miss or want any part of his will 
 or appetite, he will put the loss of one half of his realm in 
 danger. For I assure you I have often kneeled before 
 him in his privy chamber on my knees, the space of an 
 hour or two, to persuade him from his will and appetite : 
 but I could never bring to pass to dissuade him therefrom. 
 Therefore, master Ifingston, if it chance hereafter, you to 
 be one of his privy council, as for your wisdom and other 
 qualities ye are meet to be, I warn you to be well advised 
 and assured what matter ye put in his head, for ye shall 
 never put it out again. 
 
 " ' And say furthermore, that I request his grace, in 
 God's name, that he have a vigilant eye to depress this 
 new pernicious sect of Lutherans, that it do not increase 
 within his dominions through his negligence, in such a 
 sort, as that he shall be fain at length to put harness upon 
 his back to subdue them ; as the king of Bohemia, who 
 had good game, to see his rude commons (then infected 
 with Wickliffe's heresies) to spoil and murder the spirit- 
 
 * The reader will perceive how closely Shakspeare has adhered to the 
 tex^ of the cbtonicler. But this fidelity is characteriatic of all his historical 
 pl«y«. 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 149 
 
 tial men and r-eligious persons of his realm ; the which 
 fled to the king and his nobles for succor against their 
 frantic rage ; of whom they could get no help of defence 
 or refuge, but (they) laughed them to scorn, having good 
 game at their spoil and consumption, not regarding their 
 duties nor their own defence. — 
 
 " ' Master Kingston, farewell. I can no more, but wish 
 all things to have good success. My time draweth on 
 fast. I may not tarry with you. And forget not, I pray 
 you, what I have said and charged you withal : for when 
 I am dead, ye shall peradventure remember my words 
 much better.' And even with these words he began to 
 draw his speech at length, and his tongue to fail ; his 
 eyes being set in his head, whose sight failed him. Then 
 we began to put him in remembrance of Christ's passion ; 
 and sent for the abbot of the place to anneal him, who 
 came with all speed, and ministered unto him all the ser- 
 vice to the same belonging ; and caused also the guard to 
 stand by, both to hear him talk before his death, and also 
 to witness of the same ; and incontinent the clock struck 
 eight, at which time he gave up the ghost, and thus de- 
 parted he this present life." 
 
 He expired, as he had predicted, as the clock struck 
 eight, on the 28th of November, 1530, in the 60th year of 
 his age. 
 
 It is not easy, such is the force of the compassion that 
 the sight of the sufferings of fallen greatness awakes in 
 our bosoms, to regain the calm impartiality which the dig- 
 nity and use of biography, and the interests of truth and 
 justice, require. But our task of reprobation is rendered 
 the less difficult, by having been in a great degree antici- 
 pated ; for we have endeavored to hold up Wolsey to the 
 moral gaze of the reader, as a man, selfish, vain-glorious, 
 mean, haughty, and inordinately ambitious ; as a states- 
 man, arbitrary, self-centred, and unprincipled ; and as a 
 churchman, arrogant and dissolute. It remains, therefore, 
 but to direct the reader's attention to the merits and less 
 unfavorable points of Wolsey's character, and to those 
 circumstances which may be deemed palliative of his vices 
 and failngs. 
 
 The ends which Wolsey had in view throughout his ca- 
 reer were many of them laudable, and few of them blame- 
 able : so that, if we consider them only without taking the 
 means he employed into account, we shall arrive at the 
 conclusion that he is well entitled to the admiration of 
 posterity. On the other hand, he was ever regardless of 
 13 * 
 
150 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 the means through whose agency he attained, or might 
 attain, the object of his ambition : so that if our estimate 
 of his claims to our favorable suffrages be determined by 
 them alone, without looking to the end he may have had 
 in view, his memory will be justly regarded with detesta- 
 tion. In the outset of his career, we saw him fraudulently 
 apply the funds of his college to a use different from that 
 for which they were intended ; but then, it might be said, 
 his end was to adorn and dignify that college by orna- 
 menting its chapel with a tower. He simulated and dis- 
 simulated, and fawned himself into power ; but then he 
 was urged by the infirmity of noble minds, ambition, and 
 would wield that power advantageously for his country. 
 He involved England in constant war, regardless of its 
 true interests, and of the real grandeur of his master ; but 
 then his end was the popedom, and, like the cardinal Am- 
 boise, he persuaded himself that when he had reached that 
 summit of his ambition, he would promote the welfare of 
 his native country, and evince his gratitude to his sove- 
 reign. He oppressed and pillaged the poorer and defence- 
 less monks ; but it was only to encourage literature, and 
 check immorality. He was rapacious, but not to hoard ; 
 profuse, but only in order that he might support the digni- 
 ty becoming Ms station. Arbitrary laws checked the 
 freedom of the lower orders in the most ordinary occur- 
 rences of life ; but the end was public order, and their own 
 good. And if he levied heavy loans and benevolences, 
 and imposed taxes without the consent of parliament, it 
 was to prevent his great designs for the general weal from 
 being abandoned before their beneficial results were made 
 manifest. 
 
 In this spirit have his more zealous admirers endeav- 
 ored to vindicate his conduct, forgetful that the same sort 
 of reasoning would furnish an apology for the foulest out- 
 rages upon the rights of a free people that are recorded 
 in history. The best apology that can be offered for the 
 personal vices of Wolsey was his lowly origin and defec- 
 tive moral education, and consequent absence of true dig- 
 nity of character. To these may be ascribed his love of 
 ostentatious pomp, and vindictiveness* in his prosperity, 
 
 * His treatment of sir Arnias Paulet, and his allowing his resentment to 
 aid in causing the death of Buckingham, are in themselves examples of the 
 vindictivoness of Wolaey's temper. But there are others, of a still more 
 ignoble cast, such as the unrelenting rigor with which he persecuted the 
 poet-laureate Shelton, for inditing of some stupid satirical lines on the 
 cardinal's birth and pompous bearing, and his imprisonment of one John 
 Roo, the author of a " disguising " enacted by the young lawyers of Gray'« 
 Inn, which, though written upwards of twenty years, gave offence to 
 Wolaey by its allusion to state affairs. 
 
CARDINAL WOLSEY. 151 
 
 his meanness in the reverse of his fortunes, and the ab- 
 sence of the 
 
 " High disdain from sense of injured merit," 
 
 and of the 
 
 " Unconquerable will, 
 
 And courage never to submit or yield," 
 
 which have flung somewhat of the glory of the " archan- 
 gel ruined" over the fall of the haughty Strafford. 
 
 The best apology for the arbitrariness of his government 
 is the disposition of his master, who, relieved by his death 
 from one that " often kneeled before him for three hours 
 together, to persuade him from his will and appetite," be- 
 came daily more ferocious, tyrannical, and blood-thirsty, 
 affording a striking contrast in favor of Wolsey's ascend- 
 ancy and administration. Had tlie cardinal had the ines- 
 timable advantage of a sound moral education, and, as a 
 consequence, had his ambition been directed by a spirit 
 more worthy of the true dignity of human nature, his labors 
 might have conferred incalculable benefits on his country ; 
 for he lived in an age which his enlightened views far 
 outstepped, and which presented an ample and fruitful soil 
 for the employment of his various and splendid abilities. 
 To him, however, England is indebted for the first notion 
 of a vigorous police — of a simple and regular administra- 
 tion of justice. The superiority of her navy, also, is much 
 indebted to his sagacity in directing the attention of Hen- 
 ry Vni. to the " empire of the sea ;" and, notwithstanding 
 his questionable principles of economy, his name should 
 be held in respect as one of the earliest cultivators of our 
 commercial pre-eminence. In him literature and learned 
 men ever found a generous and a munificent patron ; and 
 the College of Physicians to this day bears testimony to 
 his well-intentioned zeal in the improvement of medical 
 science, and through it of the general well-being. 
 
 To conclude, had the moral man been less defective, 
 Wolsey might have been regarded as a benefactor of his 
 species ; as it is, regard to truth compels us to say, in the 
 words of his biographer — " Here is the end and fall of 
 pride and arrogancy." 
 
152 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 CRANMER. 
 
 1489—1555. 
 
 Thomas Cranmek, the first archbishop of Canterbury 
 that "made a defection from the papal chair," was the 
 son of a gentleman of "right ancient family"* in Notting- 
 hamshire, and was born in Aslacton, in that county, on the 
 2d of July, 1489. He received his early education at what 
 we may call the grammar-school of his native village, 
 under a " rude and severe parish clerk, of whom he learned 
 little, and endured much ;" a circumstance that may help 
 to explain to us much of the timid flexibility of his char- 
 acter in after-life. At the age of fourteen, he was entered 
 of Jesus College, Cambridge, of which he in time became 
 a fellow, and where he continued for sixteen years, a la- 
 borious student in the learning usually taught in the 
 universities, and in the classic and sacred literature, 
 which, by means of the lately invented art of printing, 
 and the zeal of Erasmus, were just then making their way 
 into our schools and colleges. Though he had devoted three 
 years of this course of reading to the study of the Scrip- 
 tures, it should seem that he was not originally intended for 
 the church ; for he is said to have excelled in the more 
 profane accomplishments of a gentleman of that age, such 
 as hunting and hawking ; and he forfeited his fellowship 
 by marrying shortly after he had taken his degree of mas- 
 ter of arts. The reformation had not yet received such 
 countenance in England — where the celibacy of the clergy 
 was, long after its adoption, more or less strictly insisted 
 upon — as to admit of the marriage of an ecclesiastic ; nor 
 did Cranmer possess the boldness of temper necessary to 
 him who, unsupported by wealth or family influence, 
 would take the lead in setting established rules and usages 
 at defiance. The death of his wife, however, within a 
 year after his marriage, enabled him to resume his fellow- 
 ship ; he having, in the interim, filled the common lecture- 
 ship of Magdalen, then Buckingham, College, — an office 
 not incompatible with the state of wedlock. From this 
 period he appears to have directed his views towards the 
 church as a profession, encouraged, no doubt, by his 
 deservedly high university reputation. In 1523 he re- 
 ceived the degree of doctor in divinity ; and soon after 
 was appointed to the theological lectureship of his own 
 
 * Strype's Memorials of T. Cranmer which Me have chiefly followed in 
 the text. 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. ]53 
 
 college, and examiner of candidates for holy orders. The 
 gentle aifability of his manners, his moderation and dis- 
 interestedness, and the extent of his erudition, made Cran- 
 mer to be universally esteemed by all whom his new offices 
 brought him in contact with ; and he probably might have 
 spent the remainder of his life in the privacy of his col- 
 lege — more congenial with his own retiring and studious 
 disposition than the bustle and excitement of those mo- 
 mentous events which have made him a subject of history 
 — but for one of those accidents which occur in the career 
 of every man who rises eminently above his fellows. 
 
 In 1529, the "sweating sickness" having broken out in 
 Cambridge, Cranmer retired to Waltham Abbey in Essex, 
 to the house of a Mr. Cressy, whose sons were his pupils 
 at the university. It happened that the king, Henry VIII., 
 — then returning from a progress which he had made, ac- 
 companied by Anne Boleyn, soon after tlie adjournment 
 of the legatine commission on the matter of the divorce to 
 Rome, — at this time spent a night at Waltham. His 
 suite, as usual, was billeted in the different houses in the 
 neighborhood by the customary authorities ; his secretary, 
 Gardiner, and his almoner. Fox, being allotted to Mr. 
 Cressy's residence, where they met Cranmer at supper. 
 The conversation turned upon the then absorbing topic 
 of public conversation, the king's divorce, and Cranmer 
 was pressed for his opinion. He replied, that it appeared 
 to him the better and speedier mode, both to appease the 
 king's conscience and to compel the pope into acqui- 
 escence, would be to take the opinion of the learned of 
 Europe on the main question — "Whether a man may 
 marry his brother's wife or no ?" by the authority of the 
 Scriptures and the canon law. If the divines of the 
 several universities throughout Christendom approved of 
 the king's marriage with Catharine, his remorses would 
 of course cease : if, on the other hand, they viewed the 
 matter in the same light with Henry, and declared the 
 marriage null and void, the pope would find it difficult to 
 refuse the solicitation of so great a monarch, and must 
 needs give judgment in his favor. Henry was de- 
 lighted with the proposal, on its being next day com- 
 municated to him, and sent eagerly for Cranmer to 
 come to court, observing, in his usual coarse appositeness 
 of expression, " The man has got the sow by the right 
 ear." This favorable impression was confirmed by 
 the proofs of good sense and learning which Cranmer 
 gave in his conference with the king on the feasibility 
 of the plan which he had proposed at Waltham. He 
 
154 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 was commanded to put his arguments in favor of the 
 divorce in writing ; appointed one of the royal chap- 
 lains ; and placed in the family of Thomas earl of Wilt- 
 shire, father of the ill-fated Anne Boleyn. He was now 
 considered a "rising churchman," and as the probable 
 successor to the influence and grandeur of Wolsey, then 
 in the first stage of his fall. 
 
 Having finished his treatise on the divorce, which is 
 mainly directed against the pope's power of granting a 
 dispensation for the marriage of Henry with his brother's 
 widow, Cranmer was employed by the king as the most 
 fitting instrument to carry his own scheme into effect. 
 The opinion of the learned on the main question of the di- 
 vorce, which he had recommended, was ordered to be 
 taken under his own inspection. He began his mission 
 at his own university, but met with indifferent success, 
 chiefly, according to Burnet, because his Lutheran bias 
 was there best known : " besides that, Anne Boleyn had, 
 in the duchess of Alen9on's court (who inclined to the 
 reformation), received such impressions as made them 
 fear that her greatness and Cranmer's preferment would 
 encourage heresy, to which the universities were furious- 
 ly averse ; and therefore they did resist all conclusions 
 that might promote the divorce." He, however, met with 
 better success in his consultations with the divines of 
 France, Italy, and Germany, a majority of whom, by the 
 force of his arguments and of those of the other agents 
 in the embassy, and not improbably by bribes and promises 
 when fair means would not avail, was induced to give an 
 opinion favorable to the king's wishes. 
 
 Armed thus with the authority of the most learned men 
 of the age, Henry sought the papal sanction for his intended 
 divorce. The earl of Wiltshire, attended by Cranmer and 
 a council of divines, was deputed to lay before the " Holy 
 Father " the opinion of the chief universities of Europe in 
 his master's favor, and to present to him a letter from the 
 principal English nobility, recommending their sovereign's 
 cause to his friendly decision, and threatening him with the 
 loss of the allegiance of England to the see of Rome in the 
 event of his refusal. At the same time Cranmer had his 
 treatise against the validity of the marriage with Catha- 
 rine presented to the pontiflT, and offered to maintain its 
 tenets, by fair argument, openly before the papal council 
 against all comers ; a proof of his zeal and boldness, to 
 which he was mainly indebted for his promotion soon af- 
 terwards to the see of Canterbury. 
 
 Nothing could be more inopportune, both as to time and 
 
ARCkBISHOP CRANMER. 155 
 
 place, to Clement than this embassy. He had just been 
 t«rith the emperor at Bologna, successfully treating for the 
 restoration of those possessions, part of the patrimony of 
 St. Peter, which had been held by the imperial troops 
 since the memorable sack of Rome. Fear as well as pol- 
 icy forbade his exciting the anger of Charles, whose pride 
 made him indignantly hostile to the intended outrage upon 
 the honor of his family. On the other hand, he was well 
 disposed towards Henry ; and, but for his terror of the 
 emperor's arms, would gladly have adopted any expedient 
 that might relieve both from their anxiety and embarrass- 
 ments. As it was, he received the ambassadors most 
 graciously, and promised to act as favorably in their mas- 
 ter's affair as his conscience would permit. Cranmer he 
 complimented by appointing him his penitentiary for Eng- 
 land and Ireland. The ambassadors next proceeded to 
 explain their business personally to the emperor, but were 
 still more unsuccessful. Charles's anger burst forth at 
 the sight of the father of her whom he conceived to be the 
 immediate cause of his aunt's intended degradation. To 
 Cranmer alone would he pay the least attention, haughtily 
 imposing silence on the earl of Wiltshire. " Stop, sir,'* 
 said he ; " allow your colleagues to speak ; — you are a 
 party in the cause." Through his threats and influence, 
 Clement soon after issued an inhibitory brief on the whole 
 proceedings ; the proximate occasion, as the reader is 
 aware, of the overthrow of the papal supremacy in Eng- 
 land. 
 
 Cranmer did not return to England with the earl of 
 Wiltshire, but proceeded to Germany, where he resided 
 for nearly two years, endeavoring to convince the Luther- 
 an divines of the nullity of the king's marriage with his 
 brother's widow; and conducting embassies with the 
 elector of Saxony and other Protestant princes. But he 
 seems to have made but a slight impression on those theo- 
 logians ; chiefly, it is said, because they had strong doubts 
 of the purity of Henry's motives, and of the sincerity of 
 his alleged scruples. They, however, were more success- 
 ful in imbuing him with their principles of religion, and 
 in preparing him for the sacred office of head of the 
 Protestant church of England. Though a spark of the 
 flame which Luther and the other reformers had kindled 
 in Saxony and Switzerland had .reached him in his cloister 
 at Cambridge, prompting him to make the Holy Volume 
 the standard and the source, the beginning and the end, 
 of his faith ; it was to his conferences at this time with 
 the German divines, particularly Osiander and Bucer, that 
 
15(5 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 he was indebted (not at once, but by degrees) for a rule 
 of belief, scriptural in its basis, and unalloyed by papal 
 superstition. 
 
 The reputation of Cranmer would have been more pure 
 and unquestioned, had the first decided proof of his con- 
 viction of the scriptural validity of the religious tenets and 
 practices of the reformers been one less involving his per- 
 sonal gratification. As a Catholic clergyman, — he was 
 archdeacon of Taunton, — he was bound by a vow of celi- 
 bacy ; and though the study of the gospel soon taught him 
 that this obligation was unwarranted, as being unscrip- 
 tural, he should not have violated it without an explicit re- 
 nouncement of all allegiance to the see of Rome. But 
 the permission to marry seems to have been the great lure 
 to many of the clergy at this time to adopt the principles 
 of the reformation, and to have been eagerly embraced by 
 them as a compensation for the loss of their extravagant 
 wealth and privileges. Cranmer married a kinswoman of ' 
 his friend Osiander; an act of rebellion to the papal juris- 
 diction, which, being unavowed, exposed him in the sequel 
 to many unworthy shifts and equivocations. The first of 
 these was consequent upon his consecration as archbishop 
 of Canterbury. 
 
 While Cranmer was advocating the king's divorce to 
 the German divines, and fitting himself to be the guardian 
 of the reformation in his native country, it was notified to 
 him that the judgment or the partiality of his sovereign 
 had appointed him to the metropolitan see of England, 
 then vacant by the death of archbishop Warham. Many 
 circumstances united in recommending him thus signally to 
 the favor of Henry ; none, perhaps, more influentially 
 than his zeal and boldness in maintaining the royal cause 
 at Rome and in the continental universities, and the friend- 
 ship of Anne Boleyn and her family. The first announce- 
 ment, however, of his new dignity alarmed more than it 
 gratified him. By his marriage he had, to all intents and 
 purposes, rebelled against the pope's authority ; and yet, 
 as the king had not yet determined on severing for ever 
 the English connection with Rome, as archbishop of Can- 
 terbury, he should solicit the usual bulls of consecration, 
 and take the usual oath of canonical obedience to the chair 
 of St. Peter ; acts, moreover, implying an observance of 
 his vow of celibacy. He hesitated: he perhaps resolved 
 upon declining the proffered honor. 
 
 He would be great ; 
 
 J 
 
 Was not without ambition ; but without 
 
 The illness should attend it. What ho would highly, 
 
 That would heholily.'^ 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 157 
 
 He knew that to announce his marriage to Henry would 
 be fatal to his election ; for that monarch continued till his 
 last breath to enforce the observance of clerical celibacy 
 with the stake and halter. On the other hand, rebel as he 
 was in heart and deed to the usurped authority of the bish- 
 ops of Rome, how could he reconcile it to his conscience 
 to swear canonical obedience to that authority, and there- 
 by proclaim either the nullity of his marriage or the viola- 
 tion of his vow ? In this dilemma he had recourse to an 
 artifice, which, as bishop Burnet justly remarks, " agreed 
 better with the maxims of canonists and casuists than with 
 Cranmer's sincerity and integrity ;" namely, a protest made 
 in the Chapter House of St Stephen, before four " authentica 
 persona, et teatihus fide dignis" before consecration, — in 
 the absence and without the knowledge of the party most 
 interested, — that he did not intend, by his oath to the pope, 
 " to restrain himself from any thing to which he was bound 
 by his duty to God or the king, or from taking any part in 
 any reformation of the English church which he might 
 judge to be required." Having, in an inner apartment, 
 made this protestation, he was publicly consecrated, took 
 the oath of canonical obedience, and received the papal 
 pallium. The title of archbishop of Canterbury was 
 changed, after Henry had assumed to himself the eccle- 
 siastical supremacy, to that of primate and metropolitan of 
 all England. 
 
 It is not necessary to dwell upon the moral character of 
 this transaction. If such a protest be invested with any 
 validity, oaths cease to bind, and truth and sincerity in the 
 affairs of life are no longer attainable. It cannot be al- 
 leged, in palliation of this first deviation from the strict 
 path of rectitude, that it was the unavoidable result of cir- 
 cumstances ; for Cranmer was not, and could not, be forced 
 into the archiepiscopal chair ; and therefore voluntarily 
 entailed upon himself all the moral consequences of his 
 elevation. The truth is, want of firmness was the " vicious 
 mole" in Cranmer's character. He was from nature vir- 
 tuously inclined and candid ; but he would be great, and 
 could not resist the opportunity. Such conduct produced 
 its inevitable results : it destroyed that consciousness of 
 inflexible dignity of purpose which is at once the offspring 
 and the safeguard of moral integrity. Cranmer felt that 
 he could not stand erect in the independence of an uncom- 
 promising spirit before his sovereign, and was thereby re- 
 duced into an. unworthy compliance with all the caprices 
 and vicious mandates of that sovereign's will. Hence the 
 
 VOL. I. 14 
 
158 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 equivocations and shifts, and even persecutions, in which 
 he was made most unwillingly instrumental during the re- 
 mainder of Henry's reign. And thus 
 
 " The stamp of one defect — 
 
 Being nature's livery, or fortune's star — 
 His virtues else (be they as pure as grace, 
 As infinite as man may undergo) 
 Shall, in the general censure, take corruption 
 From that particular fault." 
 
 Henry had, at the instigation of Cromwell, on the failure 
 of his hopes of obtaining the papal sanction for his divorce, 
 renounced all allegiance to the see of Rome, and consti- 
 tuted himself supreme head of the church of England. It 
 was, therefore, truly gratifying to him to possess a primate 
 so much after his own heart — so far as renouncing the 
 pontifical authority was concerned — as Cranmer. He now 
 resolved to make the new archbishop, in virtue of his 
 ecclesiastical office, pronounce the marriage of Catharine 
 null, and that which he had lately concluded in private 
 with Anne Boleyn valid; and the issue of the former 
 illegitimate, and that of the latter, as a matter of course, 
 to be lawfully begotten in wedlock. A convocation was 
 then sitting upon the two main questions involved in the 
 intended divorce. Cranmer took his seat as head of the 
 ecclesiastical body in England, and demanded the votes. 
 The result was favorable to the king by large majorities. 
 The archbishop then craved the royal permission to exam- 
 ine and determine the great cause of the divorce ; stating 
 that his conscience impelled him to the step, to avoid the 
 evils of a scandalous marriage, and of a consequently 
 doubtful succession. Henry, with farcical solemnity, made 
 a virtue of acceding to the request ; at the same time re- 
 minding the primate that he was nothing more than the 
 principal minister belonging to the spiritual jurisdiction of 
 the crown, and that the sovereign had no superior on 
 earth, and was not subject to the laws of any earthly 
 creature. The subsequent proceedings, as narrated by 
 our historians, are well known. We shall, therefore, 
 merely quote Cranmer's own account of them, in a letter 
 (published by Mr. Ellis in the first series of his historical 
 collection) to the English ambassador at the court of 
 Charles, which, besides being less known to the general 
 reader, contains other interesting particulars. 
 
 After some prefatory complimentary remarks, he goes 
 on :— " And fyrste as towchyng the small determynacion 
 and concludyng of the matter of dcvorse betwene my lady 
 Kateren and the kyngs grace, whycho said matter after 
 the convocacion in that behalf hadde determyned, and ag- 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 159 
 
 greed accordyng to the former consent of the vniversities, 
 3rt was thought convenient by the kyng and his lernyd 
 councell that I shoulde repayre unto Dunstable, whyche ys 
 within iiij myles vnto Amptell, where the said lady Kateren 
 kepeth her howse, and there to call her before me, to here 
 the fynall sentence in this said mateir. Notwithstanding 
 she would not att all obey thereunto, for whan she was 
 by doctour Lee cited to appear by a daye, she utterly re- 
 fused the same, sayinge that inasmoche as her cause was 
 before the pope, she would have none other judge ; and 
 therefore would not take me for her judge. Nevertheless 
 the viiith daye of Maye, according to the said appoynt- 
 ment, I came vnto Dunstable, my lorde of Lyncolne beying 
 assistante vnto me, and my lorde of Wynchester, &c. 
 with diuerse other lernyd in the lawe beying councillours in 
 the lawe for the king's parte : and soe these at our commyng 
 kept a courte for the apperance of the said lady Kateren, 
 when were examyned certeyn witnes whyche testified 
 that she was lawfully cited and called to appere, whome 
 for fawte of apperance was declared contumax ; proced- 
 yng in the said cause agaynste her in panam cordumacium^ 
 as the processe of the lawe thereunto belongeth ; whyche 
 contynewed xv dayes after our cummyng tliither. And 
 the morrow after Assension daye I gave finall sentence 
 therein, howe that it was indispensable for the pope to 
 lycense any such marieges." The archbishop next pro- 
 ceeds to give an account of queen Anne's coronation, but 
 at too great length for our pages. With respect to his 
 having been present at her marriage, which Mr. Hume, on 
 the authority of lord Herbert, erroneously asserts, he says, 
 " But nowe, sir, you may nott ymagyn that this coronacion 
 was before her mariege ; for she was maried muche about 
 Sainte Paule's daye last, as the condicion thereof dothe 
 well appere by reason she ys nowe sumwhat bygg with 
 chylde. Notwithstanding yt hath byn reported thorowyte 
 a greate parte of the realme that I maried her ; whyche 
 was playnly false, for I myself knewe not thereof a forte- 
 nyght after yt was donne." 
 
 The remainder of this letter is curious, as showing the 
 cool indifference with which a constitutionally humane 
 man of the 16th century consigns to the stake his fellow- 
 creatures for doctrines which, it is to be hoped for the 
 honor of human nature, he then did not believe, but for 
 the denial of which he in the next reign doomed others to 
 the same horrible punishment. "Other newyes have 
 we none notable," he says, " but that one Fryth, whyche 
 was in the Tower in pryson, was appointed by the kyng's 
 
160 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 grace to be examyned before me, my lordes of London, 
 Wynchester, and Suffolk, my lord chancellour, and my 
 lorde of Wylteshere, whose opynion was so notably er- 
 roniouse, that we culde not dyspache hyni, but was fayne 
 to leve hym to the determynacion of his ordinarye, whyche 
 ys the bishop of London. His said opynyon ys of suche 
 nature that he thoughte it nat necessary to be beleued as 
 an article of our faythe, that there ys the very corporall 
 presence of Christe within the oste and sacramente of the 
 alter, and holdeth of this poynte muste (much) after the 
 opynion of Oecolampodious. And surely I myself sent for 
 hym iij or iiij times, to persuade him to leve that his imagi- 
 nacion, but for all that we coulde do therein he woulde 
 not applye to any counsaile, notwithstandyng nowe he ys 
 at a fynale ende with all exarainacions ; for my lorde of 
 London hathe gyven sentance, and delyuered hym to the 
 secular power, where he looketh euery daye to goo unto 
 the fyre. And there is also condempned with hym one 
 Andrew, a taylour, for the self same opynion." The 
 reader, perhaps, need not be reminded that both these un- 
 fortunate men went " unto the fyre." 
 
 Henry had now been three years wedded to Anne 
 Boleyn, with as much of domestic felicity as his brutal 
 nature could permit his enjoying. During that time the 
 " new learning" (as the reformation doctrines were then 
 designated) had been silently diffusing itself, chiefly by 
 means of the influence indirectly exercised in its favor, at 
 the instigation of Cranmer and Latimer, by the young 
 queen. Cranmer had been an inmate of the family of the 
 earl of Wiltshire, and had there an opportunity of ac- 
 quainting himself with Anne Boleyn's virtues and disposi- 
 tion, and of strengthening the predilection for the Luther- 
 an doctrines which she had early acquired from the cele- 
 brated Margaret de Valois. In annulling the king's former 
 marriage, and pronouncing the validity of his present, the 
 archbishop felt he was advancing the cause of the refor- 
 mation. But Henry had now conceived a new passion ; his 
 affections for Anne had been effaced by the charms of Jane 
 Seymour; the former, therefore, must be got rid of, to 
 make way on tlie throne for her rival. A trial took place, 
 and, as a matter of course in this reign of base obsequious- 
 ness to the most cruelly selfish of tyrants, guilty or in- 
 nocent, conviction and execution soon followed. 
 
 Cranmer had been staying at the archiepiscopal palace 
 at Croydon when Anne was arrested. The next day he 
 received the royal mandate to repair immediately to 
 Lambeth, with an injunction not to approach the pres- 
 
ABCflBlSHOP CRANMER. 161 
 
 ence till he was expressly desired. The message pro- 
 duced the effect for which it was intended ; it intimidated 
 him, and thereby rendered him the more pliant instru- 
 ment of the king's pleasure. A letter wiiich he addressed 
 to Henry, the day after his being commanded to confine 
 himself to his palace, will best explain his conduct and 
 feelings. We shall give it entire, as an elaborate paint- 
 ing of his mind, and because it has been the subject of 
 much contrariety of opinion : those who admire his charac- 
 ter appealing to it as a proof of his chivalrous fidelity and 
 courage ; those who do not, as a striking testimony of his 
 time-serving timidity. Probably the reader will arrive 
 at the conclusion that it neither deserves all the praises 
 of the one, nor all the censures of the other ; and that 
 Its chief merit is its cautious ingenuity. We quote from 
 Burnet. 
 
 " Pleaseth it your moat noble grace to be advertised, 
 that at your grace's commandment by Mr. Secretary's 
 letters, Avritten in your grace's name, 1 came to Lambeth 
 yesterday, and do there remain to know your grace's 
 farther pleasure. And forasmucli as witliout your grace's 
 con\mandment, I dare not, contrary to the contents of the 
 said letters, presume to come unto your grace's presence, 
 nevertheless, of my most bounden duty, I can do no less 
 than most humbly to desire your grace, by your great 
 wisdom, and by the assistance cf God's help, somewhat to 
 suppress the deep sorrow of your grace's heart, and to 
 take all adversities of God's hand botli patiently and 
 thankfully. I cannot deny but your grace hath great 
 causes, many ways, of lamentable heaviness ; and also 
 that, in the wrongful estimation of the world, your 
 grace's honor of every part is highly touched (whether 
 the things that commonly be spoken of be true or not), 
 that I remember not that ever Almighty God sent unto 
 your grace any like occasion to try your grace's constancy 
 throughout, whether your highness can be content to take 
 of God's hand as well things displeasant as pleasant. 
 And if he find in your most noble heart such an obedi- 
 ence unto his will, that your grace, without murmuration 
 and overmuch heaviness, do accept all adversities, not 
 less thanking him than when all things succeed after your 
 grace's will and pleasure, nor less procuring his glory 
 and honor ; then, I suppose, your grace did never thing 
 more acceptable unto him since your first governance of 
 this your realm. And moreover, your grace shall give 
 unto him occasion to multiply and increase his graces and 
 14* 
 
162 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 benefits unto your highness, as he did unto his most 
 faithful servant Job ; unto whom, after his great calami- 
 ties and heaviness, for his obedient heart, and willing 
 acceptation of God's scourge and rod, addidit ei Dominus 
 cuncta duplicia. 
 
 " And if it be true that is openly reported of the queen's 
 grace, if men had a right estimation of things, they should 
 not esteem any part of your grace's honor to be touched 
 thereby, but her honor only to be clearly disparaged. 
 And I am in such a perplexity, that my mind is clean 
 amazed : for I never had better opinion in woman than I 
 had in her ; which maketh me to tliink that she should 
 not be culpable. And again, I think your highness 
 would not have gone so far, except she had surely been 
 culpable. Now I think that your grace best knoweth, 
 that, next unto your grace, I was most bound unto her 
 of all creatures living. Wherefore, I most humbly be- 
 seech your grace, to suffer me in that, which both God's 
 law, nature, and also her kindness bindeth me unto ; that 
 is, that I may with your grace's favor, wish and pray for 
 her, that she may declare herself inculpable and innocent. 
 And if she be found capable, considering your grace's 
 goodness towards her, and from what condition your 
 grace of your only mere goodness took her, and set the 
 crown upon her head, I repute him not your grace's faith- 
 ful servant and subject, nor true unto the realm, that 
 would not desire the offence without mercy to be punish- 
 ed, to the example of all other. And as I loved her 
 not a little, for the love which I judged her to bear 
 towards God and his gospel ; so, if she be proved culpa- 
 ble, there is not one that loveth God and his gospel that 
 ever will favor her, but must hate her above all other ; and 
 the more they favor the gospel, the more they will hate 
 her ; for there never was creature in our time that so 
 much slandered the gospel. And God hath sent her this 
 punishment, for that she feignedly hath professed this 
 gospel in her mouth, and not in heart and deed. And 
 though she have offended so, that she hath deserved never 
 to be reconciled unto your grace's favor, yet Almighty 
 God hath manifestly declared his goodness towards your 
 grace, and never offended you. But your grace, I am 
 sure, acknowledgeth that you have offended him. Where- 
 fore I trust that your grace will bear no less entire 
 favor unto the truth of the gospel than you did before : 
 forasmuch as your grace's favor to the gospel was not 
 led by affection unto her, but by zeal unto the truth. 
 And thus I beseech Almighty God, whose gospel hath 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 163 
 
 ordained your grace to be defended of, ever to preserve 
 your grace from all evil, and to give you at the end tlie 
 promise of his gospel. From Lambeth, the 3d day of 
 May." 
 
 [Cranmer had written, but not despatched this letter, 
 when he was summoned to a conference by the lord chan- 
 cellor and other peers, who stated to him the facts which, 
 they said, could be proved against the queen. He there- 
 fore, in a postscript, added as follows] : — 
 
 " After I had written this letter unto your grace, my 
 lord chancellor, «Sz.c. sent for me to come unto the star- 
 chamber; and there declared unto me such things as 
 your grace's pleasure was they should make me privy 
 unto. For the which I am most bounden unto your grace. 
 And what communication we had therein, I doubt not but 
 they will make the true report thereof to your grace. I 
 am exceedingly sorry that such faults can be proved by 
 the queen as I heard of their relation. But I am, and 
 ever shall be, your faithful subject. 
 
 " Your grace's 
 " Humble subject and chaplain, 
 
 "Thomas Cantuariensis." 
 
 The writer of this letter, it is plain, only awaits the 
 king's commands as to the side on which he should array 
 himself; though it is equally evident that his inclination 
 went to assert the innocence of her to whom, next to his 
 sovereign, he " was most bound of all creatures living." 
 He had pronounced the divorce between Henry and Catha- 
 rine, and thereby was a great instrument in destroying the 
 papal supremacy in England. He had confirmed, by his 
 archiepiscopal authority, the marriage of Anne ; and by so 
 doing, he was persuaded, favored the spread of gospel 
 truth and pure religion. He was now commanded to de- 
 clare that that marriage " was, and always had been, null 
 and void ;" and that, as a necessary consequence, his 
 god-child, the princess Elizabeth, should be no longer 
 reputed legitimate. He dared not hesitate. After one 
 of those solemn mockeries of the forms of justice, desig- 
 nated trials, which abound in this monstrous reign, Cran- 
 mer, "having God alone before his eyes," dissolved the 
 marriage of Henry and Anne Boleyn. A similar, but 
 fortunately less bloody, farce was performed a very few 
 years after, when the king wished to get rid of Anne of 
 Cleves. In obedience to the faintly expressed wishes of 
 her disgusted husband, the archbishop and chancellor, at 
 the head of a deputation, humbly solicited their gracious 
 
164 BRITISH STATfiSMEN. 
 
 master's permission to submit to his consideration a sub- 
 ject of great delicacy and importance. Henry, having, he 
 said, "no other object in view than the glory of God, the 
 welfare of the realm, and the triumph of truth," consent- 
 ed, on the condition that they would not propose any thing 
 to him unreasonable and unjust. The subject was then 
 cautiously broached, as arising solely from their own con- 
 ficientious scruples ; and, in perfect keeping with the far- 
 cical hypocrisy of the whole proceeding, the marriage 
 was declared null and void, because " the king had been 
 deceived by the exaggerated accounts of Anne's beauty, 
 and had not given his inward assent to the contract." 
 And yet this man was popular Avith the mass of his sub- 
 jects, and is not without his eulogists even in the present 
 day ! 
 
 But it was not alone in the matter of wife-murder or 
 other civil exercises of the royal prerogative, that, during 
 this reign, the will or caprice of the monarch was the sole 
 law and measure. His 
 
 " Sic volo, Bic jubeo;— stet pro ratione voluntas," 
 
 extended even to the consciences of his subjects. By 
 an arrogant exertion of power, not to be paralleled in the 
 annals of Oriental despotism, Henry made his own theo- 
 logical tenets — such as they were then, or ^^ hereafter 
 might fee" — the exclusive test and standard of religious 
 orthodoxy. From his dictum there was no appeal nor 
 subterfuge : to question his infallibility was a crime be- 
 yond the pale of mercy ; to dissent from his doctrines 
 was to incur the extremity of punishment in this world, 
 and, according to his infallible canonists, an eternity of 
 torment hereafter. And his was not the age of martyrs. 
 He had two favorite principles, or dogmata of belief, 
 which he maintained with all the unrelenting intolerance 
 of a theologian of the sixteenth century, and with all 
 the jealousy of a tyrant in every age ; and, we should 
 add, with all the despotic inconsistency of his character : 
 — these were, his ecclesiastical supremacy, and tlie Catlio- 
 lic doctrine of the " real presence," as explained by him- 
 self in his controversy with Luther. By the former he at- 
 tached to his person the great promoters of the " new 
 learning," of which Cranmer and Lathner were the 
 heads ; by the latter he conciliated the adherents of the 
 ancient worship, of which Gardiner, bishop of Winches- 
 ter, one of the craftiest and ablest men of his time, was 
 the acknowledged chief. The court and nation were 
 pretty equally divided between tliese two great antagonist 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 165 
 
 parties ; not that their wayward and imperious master 
 allowed any open manifestation of their differences, which 
 might imply a freedom of opinion, and thence an undue 
 infringement on tlie royal authority. He himself vibrated 
 between them ; and by alternately exciting their hopes 
 and fears, insured to himself the most servile submission 
 of botli ; for, as we before observed, this was not an age 
 of martyrs or high-minded patriots. 
 
 The services, however, and the moderation and amiable 
 temper of Cranmer, obtained for him the largest share of 
 the king's friendship; unhappily for himself, as it compel- 
 led him to be a chief instrument in the persecutions of 
 that reign. These persecutions were conducted with a 
 stern, and, if we might say of so serious a subject, witli a 
 ludicrous impartiality. To assert the papal supremacy, was 
 treason ; to deny the papal doctrine of the eucharist, was 
 heresy : the one was punished by hanging ; the other with 
 the fagot. Thus Papists and Protestants were equally 
 obnoxious to the law, should their zeal lead them to an 
 open assertion of all their respective tenets. Henry, to 
 use his own language, could thus " snouch the stiff mump- 
 simus of the one (the Romanists), or the busy rumpsimus 
 of the other (the reformers)," at pleasure. And it did please 
 Iiim betimes ; though, owing, we have no doubt, to the 
 moderate counsels of Cranmer, not to such an extent as 
 might be expected from his despotic and sanguinary tem- 
 per. Two days after the execution of Cromwell, who first 
 suggested to his master the policy of renouncing the 
 papal supremacy, and who was but the too faithful minis- 
 ter of his will, three Catholics, coupled with three Protes- 
 tants, were dragged on the same hurdle from the Tower 
 to Smithfield, and there executed ; the former being hang- 
 ed and quartered as traitors, for denying the king's eccle- 
 siastical pre-eminence ; the latter being consumed by fire, 
 as heretics, for questioning the royal doctrine of the 
 eucharist. 
 
 But of all the persecutions for heresy of this reign, none 
 excited greater interest than that of Lambert, a school- 
 master in priest's orders, for heresy, — that is, for denying 
 the Catholic doctrine of the real presence. Lambert had 
 been imprisoned for the same offence by Cranmer's prede- 
 cessor in the see of Canterbury, but had escaped punish- 
 ment by that prelate's timely death. Nothing intimidated, 
 he persisted, afler his release, in the open avowal of his 
 opinions, till, having heard a sermon on the subject from 
 Dr. Taylor, afterwards bishop of London, he presented that 
 gnitary with an elaborately written protest, under eight 
 
166 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 heads or reasons, against the Romanist doctrine of tran- 
 substantiation. Taylor handed the paper to Dr. Barnes, 
 who maintained the Lutheran consubstantiation theory of 
 the eucharist ; but as this differed again from the Wyc- 
 liffism of Lambert, the latter was cited by Barnes to an- 
 swer for his heresy before the archbishop. Cranmer, on 
 the accused being brought before him, endeavored to rea- 
 son or to intimidate him into a recantation ; but Lambert, 
 instead of yielding, appealed from the metropolitan to the 
 king, as head of the church. Henry eagerly embraced so 
 favorable an opportunity for displaying his theological 
 learning, and for asserting his ecclesiastical supremacy. 
 A day was publicly fixed for the unusual contest ; and at 
 the appointed hour, the king appeared on his throne, with 
 all his judges, ministers, bishops, and officers of state, to 
 enter the lists with the schoolmaster. The proceedings 
 are told with dramatic effect by Mr. Hume. For five 
 hours the unfortunate Lambert had to contend with the 
 harangues of Henry, Cranmer, Gardiner, and five other 
 leaders of both the old and the new learning. At the end 
 of this time he was asked by the exulting monarch wheth- 
 er he was " satisfied ? Wilt thou live or die ? " The ex- 
 hausted and intimidated culprit had no reply, but that he 
 threw himself on the royal mercy. " Thou must die then ! 
 —thou must die ! for I will not be the patron of heretics," 
 «ras the humane answer. Lambert met his fate with firm- 
 ness ; and not the least remarkable circumstance of his 
 story is, that Taylor, Barnes, and Cranmer, the chief in- 
 struments in bringing him to the stake, were all three 
 burned a few years afterwards for the very same doctrine, 
 for which they were, moreover, then strongly, and perhaps 
 not unjustly, suspected of having a predilection. 
 
 In fairness to the men of this age of persecution, it 
 should be borne in mind that intolerance was then, and 
 for more than a century after, the common law of Christ- 
 endom. Toleration was a term scarcely heard of in theo- 
 ry, and wholly unknown in practice. The magistrate of 
 the sixteenth century doubted as little the justice of con- 
 signing a heretic to the flames, as the magistrate of our 
 own more enlightened times of sentencing the impugner 
 of established opinions to gaol or transportation, or tlie ut- 
 terer of a forged note to the gallows. The pretext — the 
 prevention of crime by terror of its consequences, and the 
 preservation of the integrity of the body corporate, by (to 
 use the favorite metaphor of the times) "the amputation 
 of the diseased member" — was the same in both cases, 
 excepting indeed that the zeal of the former was incited 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 167 
 
 by an additional motive derived from his religion. The 
 conduct of men is mainly determined by the circumstances 
 in which they are placed ; among- which circumstances, 
 the opinion of contemporaries is, perhaps, the most influ- 
 ential. Public opinion was not outraged by the dreadful 
 punishments inflicted on those from whom the odious 
 charge of heresy repelled the current of public sympathy. 
 Uniformity of theological doctrines was a phrase then 
 synonymous with the very existence of religion itself; 
 and those doctrines and that uniformity it was considered 
 to be the solemn duty of the government to maintain with 
 unrelenting vigilance. Where any relaxation of this stern 
 discipline occurred, it was owing to temperament and an- 
 imal feeling, rather than to a judicious estimate of the 
 value of religious liberty. At all times and in every class 
 of society are to be found individuals so constitutionally 
 humane, so nervously apprehensive of pain in themselves, 
 so tremblingly sympathetic with the appearance of suffer- 
 ing in others, that not even religious fanaticism can make 
 them unrelentingly cruel. Whenever power is vested in 
 the hands of such persons, a negative toleration, that is, a 
 diminution of, or a refraining from, persecution will pre- 
 vail ; for the actions of individuals, it will be almost inva- 
 riably found, receive their tone and coloring much more 
 from the general temper or feelings of the heart, than from 
 the decisions of the understanding. Philip Melancthon 
 was a man of this class, and Reginald Pole and Tonstal, 
 and so probably were sir Thomas More and Cranmer : not 
 so Luther, Calvin, Knox, and the other leading reformers 
 on the one hand, nor the Gardiners or Bonners on the 
 other. One fact should be received in palliation of all : 
 the great truth, so pregnant with charity towards our fel- 
 low-men, that belief is independent on the tvill, was not in 
 those times dreamt of, and even at present is not so con- 
 stantly borne in mind as the interests of humanity would 
 dictate. Mistaking the expression of belief for the act it- 
 self, the members of each sect or party endeavored to force 
 the reception of what their own sincerity, by a very natural 
 illusion, convinced them nothing but malignant obstinacy 
 could prevent from being at once eagerly adopted ; and 
 thus intolerance was masked, even to its zealots, under 
 the title of checking and punishing wilful error, and of 
 advancing the cause of truth. Before, therefore, we con- 
 demn the actors in those dramas of persecution which 
 stain the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, let us con- 
 sider whether there may not possibly be some of our own 
 laws and usages of so intolerant and sanguinary a charac- 
 
168 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 ter as to require hereafter the lenient interpretation of a 
 more enlightened and thence more humane posterity 
 While we reprobate the barbarous and unchristian prac- 
 tices of our fathers, it might be as well for us to examine 
 whether there is any leaven of them still lurking among 
 ourselves. Let us, in a word, take care, while we are in- 
 dignantly pointing out the beams which blinded the vision 
 of those who have preceded us in the career of human im- 
 provement, that some motes of prejudice and uncharita- 
 bleness may not obstruct our own. The fires of Smithfield 
 are certainly extinguished for ever ; but is the spirit of 
 intolerance that kindled them altogether allayed ? 
 
 The abolition of the papal supremacy necessarily placed 
 the tenure of the hierarchy on a new footing. As yet no 
 prelate had been consecrated without the pope's bull, 
 which bound him to recognize the see of Rome as the ca- 
 nonical head of the church. But this recognition had 
 been lately declared treason ; and there was no precedent 
 for the dependency of the ecclesiastical jurisdiction on the 
 will of the civil magistrate. Henry was much puzzled as 
 to the course he should follow in this entirely new order 
 of things. The arbitrariness of his temper led him to push 
 his newly-assumed prerogative to its utmost limits ; but 
 in doing so he would be acting in the very teeth of those 
 principles which he had vehemently maintained in his 
 controversy with Luther. From this embarrassment he 
 was relieved by the address and boldness of his vicar-gen- 
 eral Cromwell, and by the pliant example of Cranmer. 
 The body of the clergy maintained that the church had 
 inherited from her divine founder a power underived from, 
 and uncontrollable by, the civil authority, to preach and 
 administer the sacraments, and enforce her own discipline 
 by her own weapons and influence. Cranmer, on the oth- 
 er hand, contended, somewhat strangely, when we recol- 
 lect that he was then archbishop of Canterbury, that the 
 king alone, having the need of spiritual as well as civil 
 officers, had the right to appoint them. In the time of the 
 apostles, he added, the people appointed, " because they 
 had no Christian king ;" but occasionally accepted such 
 as might be recommended by the apostles " of their own 
 voluntary will, and not for any superiority that the apostles 
 had over them :" in the appointment of bishops and priests, 
 as in that of civil officers, some ceremonies are to be used, 
 " not of necessity, but for good order and seemly fashion :" 
 nevertheless, " he who is appointed bishop or priest need- 
 eth no consecration by the scripture, for election or ap- 
 pointment thereto is sufficient." — " This," he says, with his 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 109 
 
 usual caution, " is mine opinion and sentence at this pres- 
 ent ; which, nevertheless, I do not temerariously define, but 
 refer the judgment thereof to your majesty." 
 
 But Cromwell, in whom as vicar-general the king's ec- 
 clesiastical jurisdiction was vested, was not content with 
 the silent or rather implied submission of the clergy which 
 the archbishop's influence had induced. At the sugges- 
 tion of two of his creatures, he adopted an expedient, by 
 which the obedience of the church dignitaries would be 
 pushed to the quick. In the plenitude of his authority, as 
 the king's ecclesiastical minister, he suspended the power 
 of all the prelates and ordinaries in the realm, on the 
 ground of a general visitation about to be made by the 
 "supreme head of the church." Those bishops and 
 priests who had claimed an authority by divine right would 
 thus be compelled to produce their proofs ; or, if they did 
 not resign their offices, to acknowledge the crown to be 
 the sole origin of spiritual jurisdiction, by petitioning it for 
 the restoration of their usual authority. As might be ex- 
 pected from his Erastian tenets, Cranmer led the way, and 
 submitted Avith becoming humility. This example waa 
 followed by the clergy, to whom he had addressed, ag 
 metropolitan, a circular letter on the subject; and, after a 
 month's suspension, each bishop received a separate com- 
 mission from the king " to do whatever belonged tb the 
 office of bishop " during the royal pleasure. The reason 
 assigned for granting the indulgence added to its degra- 
 dation. It was stated in the commission restoring the 
 episcopal power, not that the government of bishops waa 
 necessary for the church, but that the king's vicar-general, 
 on account of the multiplicity of business with whch he 
 was loaded, could not properly attend to every thing in 
 person [in sua persona erpediendum non sufficiet*), and 
 therefore should be provided with assistance, to guard 
 against the inconveniences of delay and interruption." 
 
 * The commission may be seen in Burnet's records to the first volume of 
 his History of the Reformation, under the title, "Licentia Regia concessa 
 Domino episcopo ad exercendam jurisdictionem episcopalem." The pas- 
 sage referred to in the text runs thus : — " duia tamon ipse Thomas Crom- 
 well nostria et hujus regni Anglia? tot et tarn arduis nogotiia adeo prsepe- 
 ditus existit, quod ad omnom jurisdictionem nobis, uti Supreme Capita 
 hujusmodi competentem, ubique ; locorum infra hoc regnum nostrum 
 prajfatum, in his quse moram commode non patiuntur, aut sine nostrorum 
 subditorum injuria differri non possunt, in sua persona expediendum, non 
 sufficiet. Nos tuis in hac parte supplicationihua humilibus inclinatj, et 
 nostrorum subditorum commodis consulere cupientes. Tibi vice nostras," 
 &c. 
 
 The bishop erroneously insinuates that Bonner only received this humil- 
 iatingly couched license : — it was the general form. 
 VOL. I. 15 
 
170 
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 But Cranmer well knew that the mere assuming of the 
 ecclesiastical supremacy by the crown would little advan- 
 tage the cause of pure religion so long as those strong 
 holds of the Romish superstition the monasteries and 
 priories, continued in existence. He accordingly with 
 zeal seconded the counsels of Cromwell for their suppres- 
 sion. The proposal was greedily snatched at by Henry, 
 to whom it opened the prospect of inexhaustible wealth, 
 as well as an ample field for the exercise of power. His 
 courtiers, ministers, and the lords of his council eagerly 
 joined in the chase ; for the spoils of the clergy promised 
 a rich harvest to their rapacity, having been held out as 
 the probable reward of their zeal by the artful policy of the 
 vicar-general. Spoliation and plunder thus became the 
 order of the day: the monasteries were suppressed; their 
 corruptions and crimes exposed to public odium ; und 
 their funds and lands applied to transforming the hungry 
 minions that spanieled a tyrant's heels into the founders 
 of still flourishing, wealthy, and noble families. But such 
 an application, though in the end, perhaps, one of the most 
 prudent that could have been adopted, was very different 
 from that contemplated by Cranmer. That prelate saw 
 with pain and dismay Henry contenting himself with the 
 slaughter of the carcass, which he lefl as booty to his fol- 
 lowers to fatten upon. He knew that those spoliators 
 were perfectly indifferent to every thing but their own 
 aggrandizement ; and that for them the principles of the 
 reformation would have no charms, unless their profession 
 were accompanied by an increase of wealth and worldly 
 distinction. Never yet did the world witness a crew more 
 despicably rapacious than the courtiers of Henry VHI. 
 It was, therefore, with deep regret that Cranmer beheld 
 the alienation of the church property in a manner so dif- 
 ferent from that which he had recommended, and which 
 Henry had promised to act upon. He proposed that on 
 the new endowments a certain number of cathedrals should 
 be erected, and that in every cathedral there should be 
 provision made for readers of divinity, Greek, and Hebrew ; 
 and for " a great number of students to be both exercised 
 in the daily worship of God, and trained up in study and 
 devotion, whom the bishop might transplant out of this 
 nursery into all parts of his diocess." We cannot but la- 
 ment with the archbishop, that his excellent design had 
 been abandoned for such an unworthy use as gorging the 
 reptiles of a palace ; though we are well aware of the ben- 
 efits which have emerged from a beginning^ of so little 
 promise. 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 171 
 
 The measure to the effecting of which the influence of 
 the archbishop was next directed was one of still greater 
 importance to our religion. To the immortal honor of 
 Cranmer be it stated that he was the first to place the 
 Bible in the hands of the laity of England ; an act which 
 will atone for a thousand instances of his pusillanimity, 
 and which will ever recommend his name to our gratitude. 
 Henry had promised, on the suppression of Tyndal's ver- 
 sion of the Old and New Testament in 1530, that he would 
 provide a new translation by the "joint labor of great, 
 learned, and Catholic persons." Cranmer, during his resi- 
 dence in Germany, had witnessed the extraordinary suc- 
 cess which the reformers derived from the diffusion of the 
 sacred volume, and had resolved upon its introduction into 
 his native country. Scarcely was he installed, therefore, 
 in the see of Canterbury in 1533, than he reminded the 
 king of his promise ; and by his repeated importunity in 
 person, and by inducing the convocation to petition, and 
 Cromwell to support the prayer, he at length obtained the 
 royal injunction to have the Bible (Mathew's edition) 
 placed in all parish churches, with the liberty to every 
 man to read it at pleasure, " provided he did not disturb 
 the preacher in his sermon, nor the officiating clergyman 
 during service." In two years afler (in 1539) the indul- 
 gence was extended from the church to private houses 
 under some restrictions ; care being at the same time 
 taken, with the characteristic jealousy of the Tudors, to 
 inform the people that the liberty which they enjoyed was 
 not a right to which they possessed any claim, but a favor 
 granted " of the royal liberality and goodness." 
 
 Thus was the way cleared for the reformation in Eng- 
 land. By abolishing the papal supremacy, and making the 
 crown the source of all ecclesiastical authority, the clergy 
 were stripped of the power of resisting the further inno- 
 vations of the sovereign, and made wholly dependent on 
 his will. By the suppression of the monasteries they were, 
 moreover, deprived of the means of appealing to the pre- 
 judices of the people, unless in the dangerous character 
 of rebels. By distributing the church possessions among 
 his courtiers and gentry, Henry bound them to the new 
 order of things by the ties of property, hope, fear, and 
 gratitude ; and by disseminating the Bible among the 
 middle classes, he prepared them for the reception of 
 gospel truth, by enabling them, of themselyes, to distin- 
 guish between it and papal error. The favor of the work- 
 ing classes and lower orders was not yet directly ap- 
 pealed to. 
 
172 BRITISH STATESMEN*. 
 
 While these important proceedings were in progress, 
 two events occurred productive of much uneasiness to 
 Cranmcr, — the fall and execution of Cromwell, on a charge 
 of treason, and the beheading of queen Catharine How- 
 ard for incontinency. With the vicar-general Cranmer 
 had been in habits of the closest confidence and friend- 
 ship, and had, as we have seen, used his influence in aid 
 of the Protestant doctrines. Cromwell was not at heart 
 a friend of the reformation ; but, being hated and despised 
 by the adherents to the old worship, he was thrown, by a 
 spirit of revenge, among the leaders of the new learning. 
 During his official career, Cranmer's councils were, by his 
 support, made paramount in the cabinet, and the religious 
 tenets of the court approximated more and more to those 
 of the Lutheran reformers. But after this fall, as the 
 archbishop had foreseen, the opinions of Henry, acted 
 upon by Gardiner and the other Romanist ministers, re- 
 trograded to the doctrines of the treatise by which he had 
 won the title of " Defender of the Faith." It was, there- 
 fore, with dismay that Cranmer heard of his friend's arrest 
 and impeachment ; for he had a true presentiment of its 
 consequences to religion, which augmented the anguish of 
 personal sorrow. He wrote to the king on the subject, 
 and dwelt much on the fallen minister's zeal and diligence 
 in his service, " and in discovering all plots as soon as 
 they were made : that he had always loved the king above 
 all things, and served him with great fidelity and success : 
 that he thought no king of England ever had such a servant : 
 upon that account he had loved him, as one that loved the 
 king above all others. But," he adds, with his usual timid- 
 ity and caution, " if he was a traitor, he was glad it was dis- 
 covered. But he prayed God earnestly to send the king 
 such a counsellor in his stead, who could and would serve 
 him as he had done."* Knowing the danger as well as 
 inutility of attempting to arrest the hand of Henry once 
 raised in vengeance, he prudently avoided all allusion to 
 the particular charge on which Cromwell had been ar- 
 rested, and confined himself to a recapitulation of Jiis 
 former services. Having thus indulged his better feelings, 
 he went along with the stream, and voted for the second 
 and the third reading of the bill of attainder without trial, 
 of which atrocious instrument of despotism, by a kind of 
 
 * "This letter," says Burnet, " bHows both the firmncsa of Cranmer's 
 friendship, and that he had a great soul, not turned by the change of men's 
 fortunes to like or dislike them us they stood or declined from their great- 
 ness." — The letter, the reader will probably think, far less shows Cran- 
 mer's firmness or greatness of soul than the bishop's remarks evince the 
 wish to invest him with them. 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 173 
 
 retributive justice, Cromwell was the iirst victim, els he 
 had been the first inventor. Though there was much base 
 ingratitude and cruelty on the part of his master in the 
 fate of Cromwell, it was with justice but little lamented 
 by the nation at large; for even his ignominious death 
 could not allay the recollection that he had been at all 
 times the artful counsellor and willing instrument of that 
 master's tyranny against others. 
 
 The king was on one of his progresses, accompanied by 
 his young queen, Catharine Howard, when one Lascelles 
 waited on Cranmer, and acquainted him with facts, on the 
 authority of his sister, a servant in the Norfolk family, 
 which tainted the honor of the royal bed. The informa- 
 tion could' only excite regret and terror. It is painful to 
 a humane mind to be the instrument of another's disgrace 
 or misery ; and yet the archbishop felt tliat his loyalty as 
 well as his safety would be compromised, and might be 
 endangered, by his keeping the secret to his own bosom. 
 He communicated the matter to the chancellor and others 
 of the council; and they agreed with him, that though it 
 might be equally dangerous to conceal as to discover it 
 to the king, the latter^ course would, under all ('circum- 
 stances, be the most prudent. As the subject was one of 
 great delicacy, Cranmer broke it to the unsuspecting hus- 
 band in a long letter, in which the manner in which the 
 information was obtained is stated witli anxious minute- 
 ness, lest it should be inferred that he was a seeker of 
 scandal or a spy upon the proceedings of tlie palace. An 
 inquiry was the result of this painful intelligence : incon- 
 tinency before marriage was proved against the lady 
 Catharine, and criminality after inferred. The opportunity 
 of shedding blood was too tempting and feasible to be 
 resisted : on the 13th February, 1542, she was beheaded 
 on Tower-hill, asserting her conjugal fidelity, while she 
 confessed her maiden delinquencies. 
 
 It would be needless to inquire what share Cranmer 
 had in framing and sanctioning the " Institution " and the 
 " Erudition " of " a Christian Man," or whether the 
 "bloody" law of the six articles was wholly owing to the 
 intrigues of Gardiner and the Romanist party. During 
 Henry's reign, the royal standard of orthodoxy would have 
 been received by the clergy of the new learning, even 
 though it were still more popish in its doctrine ; and by 
 the clergy of the old learning, even though it had issued 
 from the Protestant league of Smalcald. He was in- 
 fallible in his own estimation, and, what was more, pos- 
 15* 
 
174 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 sessed the will and the power to prove himself so m that 
 of others. Th^ " Institution," and the " Erudition," which 
 was known by the name of the King's Book, are chiefly 
 remarkable for the ultra-Catholicism of their theology, and 
 for the earnestness with which they inculcate the doctrine 
 of passive obedience.* They were the standard of ortho- 
 doxy till the accession of Edward VI., when the reforma- 
 tion party became possessed of the management of affairs, 
 and all persons were compelled to subscribe to them. 
 
 The statute of the six articles was, however, still more 
 trying to the feeling and conscience of the friends of pure 
 religion, particularly to Cranmer, who employed all his 
 address, and a degree of boldness that was unusual to him, 
 to have it softened down, if not defeated. One of those 
 articles, indeed, touched him to the quick : it declared the 
 marriages of priests to be invalid, and compelled such 
 persons in orders as might have been living with their 
 wives to repudiate them, making subsequent cohabitation 
 felony. The reader is aware, that, during his residence 
 in Germany, Cranmer had married a kinswoman of Osian- 
 der, a Lutheran divine. He never publicly avowed his 
 marriage, as the canon which imposed celibacy on the 
 priesthood had not been abrogated, and the king was well 
 known to be averse from his clergy entering into a state 
 of wedlock. His wife, however, lived with him in private, 
 and bore him several children. His first opposition to the 
 atrocious statute, which he knew would bear on him with 
 such terrible severity, was made in the committee of 
 spiritual peers, whose labors terminated in the framing of 
 the six articles. That committee he divided for eleven 
 days on every article, till Henry grew so impatient, that 
 he came down in person, and awed the prelates (excepting 
 the bishop of Salisbury, who "continueth a lewd fool") 
 by his " goodlie learning " into unanimity. As the danger 
 came nearer, Cranmer's efforts and ingenuity to avert it 
 were doubled ; and at last he ventured to submit his rea- 
 sons in writing to the " superior judgment of the king's 
 grace," against the obnoxious articles, particularly that 
 which insisted on the celibacy of the clergy. On this sore 
 point he suggested the expediency of a royal declaration, 
 that would be equivalent to a suspension of that part of 
 
 * A sermon of Cranmer is quoted by Strypo, in wliich it is inculcated 
 that " though the magiBtratos bo evil and very tyrants against the com- 
 monwealth, and enemies to Christ's religion, yet ye subjects must obey in 
 all worldly things as the Christians do under the truth, and ought so to do, 
 as long as he commandeth them not to do against God." The same doc- 
 trine was preached by the Romanist party, as may bo seen In Gardiner's Do 
 Vera Obedicntia. 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRAiVMER. 175 
 
 the statute, till the lawfulness of the marriage of priests 
 should be debated in the universities, on the hazardous 
 condition, that, if judgment were given against his opinion, 
 its advocates should suffer death ; if in its favor, that tlie 
 canonical prohibition, and the article founded on it, should 
 be no longer enforced, and that the matter should be left 
 in future to every man's own conscience.* Henry bore 
 patiently with this unusual contradiction to his will, 
 but remained inexorable. Cranmer next induced Me- 
 lancthon to write the king a long letter, for the pur- 
 pose of subduing his obstinacy ; but also without avail. 
 Henry was rooted to his purpose ; and the arcli- 
 bisliop saw with dismay, that his marriage was rendered 
 void in law, and that death might be the penalty of his 
 continuing to harbor his wife and children. Having 
 despatched them in haste to their friends in Germany, and 
 written a dutiful apology to the king for his presumption 
 in for a moment differing in opinion from him, Cranmer 
 artfully revived a design of a conference between the 
 English and continental divines, that had been agitated 
 for the last few years in the council. After what had 
 passed, to persist in calling in question any of the articles 
 might have cost him his head ; but he wisely conceived 
 that foreigners might with safety impugn them under the 
 appearance of advocating their own doctrines ; and that 
 the king might thus be induced to relax from his obstinacy. 
 Tlie conference was accordingly held ; but Henry was 
 not diverted a tittle from his opinions ; and till his death 
 Cranmer was obliged to keep his wife and children on the 
 continent, without daring to avow the validity of his mar- 
 riage. 
 
 The slippery footing on which the law of celibacy 
 placed Cranmer, with respect to his further efforts for the 
 advancement of the reformation, made him confine him- 
 
 * The delivery of the MS. treatise, containing the archbishop'H objections 
 to the six articles, was accompanied by a ludicrous accident, illustrative of 
 the customs of the times. The bearer of it, Cranmer's secretary, " must 
 needs go to the Southwark side of the river, in a wherry, to look on a bear- 
 baiting that was near the river, where the kinsr rcas in person. They that 
 were in the boat leaped out, and lell the poor secretary alone there. But 
 the bear got into the boat, with the dogs about her, and sunk it." The 
 secretary and the treatise were, however, saved from drowning. 
 
 Our modern notions are startled by the fact of the king's joining a rabblo 
 rout at a bear-bait : but even the court ladies took part in those cruel 
 "amusements." Boar-baitin» was the Virgin Queen's favorite pastime: 
 with it she treated her most distinguishod visitors ; and it was an important 
 ingredient in the fare which she received in return, on her progresses 
 There were not less than twelve bears killed for her amusement at Kcnil 
 worth, at her now immortal visit there. VV^hen Shakspeare became a propri- 
 etor of the Globe theatre in Southwark, the performances were forbidden on 
 thoso days in which the " game of bear-baiting, and like pastimes, which 
 are maintained for her majesty's pleasure," was practised. 
 
176 BRITIfeH STATESMEN. 
 
 ae}f very much to the immediate busmess of his see durmg 
 the remainder of this reign. The court, as usual, was 
 divided by the overt intrigues of the two great religious 
 parties who struggled for the king's favor, and who looked 
 up to Gardiner, and the duke of Norfolk, and the arch- 
 bishop, and the Seymours, as their leaders. As the question 
 at issue was now mixed up with polemics, it need scarce- 
 ly be added, that each antagonist regarded the other with 
 intense and implacable hatred. Many attempts were 
 made to deprive Cranmer of the royal countenance ; but 
 Henry had too much confidence in his loyalty, and too 
 grateful a recollection of his many delicate services, to be 
 affected either by the insinuations or complaints of those 
 whom he knew to be the archbishop's personal enemies. 
 The prebendaries of Canterbury brought a charge againsft 
 him, but were themselves arraigned, some imprisoned, and 
 all obliged to beg the accused prelate's pardon. The mem- 
 ber for Bedfordshire had the boldness, in the house of com- 
 mons, to accuse Cranmer of heresy ; but the king sent the 
 "varlet" a peremptory message, that if he did not im- 
 mediately acknowledge his error, he should be made an 
 example to his fellows. On another occasion, Henry had 
 consented to the committal of the archbishop; but, on 
 reflection, changed his mind, and sent him a ring as a tes- 
 timony of his unaltered friendship. The readers of 
 Shakspeare are aware of the subsequent incidents : — Cran- 
 mer was bidden to the council, at the door of which " the 
 primate of all England was kept waiting an hour among 
 the footmen and servants," according to the testimony 
 of an eye-witness : the king unexpectedly appeared among 
 them : Cranmer produced the ring, and there followed " a 
 wonderful confusion." The king commanded them to be 
 reconciled to the archbishop, whom " he protested, by the 
 faith he owed to God, — laying his hand on his breast, — 
 that if a prince could be obliged by his subjects, he was 
 by the primate ; and that he took him to be the most faith- 
 ful subject he had, and a person to whom he was most 
 beholden." With this striking proof of the sovereign's 
 affection for the archbishop, the overt malice of his ene- 
 mies ceased till the reign of Mary. 
 
 Cranmer attended his royal patron in his last moments. 
 Being asked if he wished to confer with any clergyman, 
 now that he was on the approach of death, Henry an- 
 swered, " Only with Cranmer, and not with him as yet. 
 I will first repose myself a little (he could not bear the 
 thought of dying), and as I find myself I will determine." 
 When the archbishop arrived, he found him speechless, 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRAXMER. 177 
 
 but not altogether insensible. He asked him to give him 
 some intimation of his reliance on the merits of his Re- 
 deemer. The king grasped his hand strongly, bowed his 
 head, and expired.* By his will Cranmer was appointed 
 one of the council of regency during the minority of the 
 young Edward. 
 
 The usual consequences of a despotic reign manifested 
 themselves immediately on the death of Henry. So long 
 as he lived, the firm pressure of his iron hand had, as we 
 have seen, enforced a level monotony of obedience. 
 That removed, a recoil took place in the public mind that 
 was felt at once in our civil and ecclesiastical institutions. 
 Scarcely had his remains been consigned to the tomb, 
 when his more sanguinary laws were abrogated, his 
 anomalous treasons and felonies effaced from the statute 
 book, and his proclamations stripped of their legislative va- 
 lidity. The king's book, " The Erudition of a Christian 
 Man," ceased to be the standard of religious orthodoxy ; 
 for the young prince and his two uncles, and Cranmer, his 
 most influential counsellors, were strongly imbued witli 
 the spirit of Protestantism, and liad determined on sepa- 
 rating still further the church of England from the Cath- 
 olic worship. But these beneficial changes were but the 
 bright morning of a cloudy day : the public mind was in a 
 state of high excitement, and restless ambition renewed 
 its outrages against law and reason. An oligarchy, with 
 its factious concomitants, succeeded to a despotism : one 
 successful monopolist of the power which Henry, by his 
 will, had equally devolved upon a council of regency, of 
 not less than sixteen persons, followed another to the 
 scaffold ; to-day the protector signed the death-warrant 
 of his own brother, to-morrow he shares that brother's 
 fate ; a no distant day sees Dudley, the successful usurper 
 of the young monarch's prerogatives, atoning with liis life 
 for his lawless presumption. All this Avhile, however, it 
 is consoling to observe that the doctrines of the reforma- 
 tion were, under the vigilant care of Cranmer, advancing 
 with a certain, because steady and moderate, progress ; 
 and, by the close of the short reign of Edward the Sixth, 
 had become so deeply rooted in the affections of the more 
 enlightened, wealthy, and thence influential classes, that 
 they have to this day continued the inalienable patrimony 
 of the English people. A brief exposition of the principles 
 
 * It has been truly observed by Clarendon, that, except in the matter of 
 the papal supremacy, Henry lived and died a sturdy Catholic. Besides 
 receiving the sacrament according to the rites and interpretation of the 
 Roman Catholic church, he willed a sum of money for masses for his soul, 
 perhaps thinking it prudent to be on the safe side on the purgatory doctrine. 
 
178 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 by which the archbishop and his associates were guided, 
 in eifecting this great religious revolution, will, besides 
 being more suitable to our design than a mere chronologi- 
 cal narrative of each proceeding in which Cranmer was 
 engaged in tlie interval between the death of Henry and 
 the accession of Mary, we should hope, impress the reader 
 with a due conviction of their wisdom and moderation. 
 Cranmer's first step was to petition the new king for a 
 license to continue in the exercise of his ecclesiastical 
 jurisdiction, on the ground that, as his archiepiscopal au- 
 thority was derived solely from the crown, it necessarily 
 expired with the death of the granting monarch. The 
 example of the metropolitan was, as a matter of course, 
 followed by the other prelates ; and their dependence on, 
 and their obedience to, the will of the executive by this 
 means revived and strengthened. 
 
 Having thus precluded the evil consequences of refrac- 
 tory colleagues, the archbishop next established a royal 
 visitation, chiefly for the purpose of enforcing his Book of 
 Homilies, just then composed, and Erasmus's paraphrase 
 of the New Testament, to be read after mass in every 
 church on Sundays and holidays. The object was to fa- 
 miliarize the people with the language and injunctions of 
 the gospel delivered in the vernacular tongue, and by 
 that means to make the introduction of more striking 
 changes in the ancient practices and worship, which he 
 was then maturing in his own bosom, less abrupt and re- 
 pugnant to established prejudices. "The greatest part 
 of the ignorant commons " (we quote Burnet, vol. ii. p. 
 35.) " seemed to consider their priests as a sort of people 
 who had such a secret trick of saving their souls as moun- 
 tebanks pretend in the cure of diseases ; and that there 
 was nothing to be done but to leave themselves in their 
 hands, and the business could not miscarry. This was 
 the chief basis and support of all that superstition which 
 was so prevalent in the nation. The other extreme was 
 of some corrupt gospeller, who thought if they magnified 
 Christ much, and depended on his merits and intercession, 
 they could not perish, which way soever they led their 
 lives. In the Homilies, therefore, especial care was taken 
 to rectify both these errors." Between these two extremes 
 Cranmer steered with great address and moderation : on 
 the one liand, dwelling on the boundless merits of Christ's 
 sufferings ; on the other, insisting that, to partake of them, 
 repentance and purity of heart were indispensably neces- 
 sary. The Catholic ceremonies were left untouched, and 
 only the more gross superstitions, such as driving out the 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 179 
 
 devil by sprinkling holy water and lighting consecrated 
 candles, animadverted upon and forbidden. The use of 
 images was not yet discouraged, their worship alone being 
 prohibited,* as contrary to the mandates of Scripture. 
 
 Having thus cautiously felt his way, the primate pro- 
 ceeded to lop off, by little and little, the superstitious 
 excrescences that had disfigured for so many ages the pu- 
 rity and simplicity of the Christian worship, and to engraft 
 gradually in their stead those doctrines and ceremonies 
 which are still the boast of the church of England. Or- 
 ders were issued to all the bishops to abolish, in their 
 respective dioceses, the custom of bearing candles on 
 Candlemas-day, of receiving ashes on Ash Wednesday, 
 and of carrying palms on Palm Sunday ; and the Sacra- 
 ment of the Lord's Supper was commanded to be thence- 
 forth administered in both kinds, and in the English 
 language. The massf was, at the same time, celebrated 
 as usual in Latin ; and care was taken to guard against 
 offensive comments on the Catholic belief of the real pres- 
 ence in the eucharist. 
 
 A great progress was thus unobtrusively and unresisting- 
 ly made in favor of the new doctrines, and Cranmer so fer 
 emboldened to proceed with his other projected innovations. 
 Aware of the deep root which the ancient worship had 
 taken in the minds of the large majority of the people, 
 clergy as well as laity, and of the firm hold which the 
 Catholic discipline had in the two universities, he encour- 
 aged by all means in his power the influx of foreign 
 divines and professors into England. They were assured 
 of a hospitable asylum in his own palace till otherwise 
 provided for ; and were only called upon, in return, to aid 
 by their knowledge and eloquence the common cause of 
 the reformation. Among the divines and preachers who, 
 in consequence of this tempting invitation, flocked to the 
 archiepiscopal residence at Lambeth, the most distinguish- 
 ed for their learning, ability, and zeal, were the cele- 
 brated John Knox, and Bucer and Peter Martyr, at the 
 time heads of the church and university of Strasburg. 
 Knox was appointed one of the royal chaplains, and was 
 licensed and encouraged to preach every where through- 
 out the kingdom, having had the honesty to refuse a 
 benefice; "because," says Strype, "many things were 
 worthy of reformation in England, without the refor- 
 mation whereof no minister did or could discharge 
 
 * " Among Craniner's papers I have seen several arguments for a moderate 
 use of images." Burnet, ii. p. 13. 
 
 t Cranmer celebrated a high mass for the repose of the soul of Francis I., 
 who died a few months after Henry. 
 
180 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 his conscience before God." Bucer, who was remarkable 
 among theologians for a sort of metaphysical acuteness, — 
 or rather, for a scholastic and disingenuous* subtlety, — 
 was appointed to lecture on divinity in Cambridge ; while 
 his friend, Peter Martyr, an honester and bolder man, was 
 elected to the theological chair of the other university. 
 By these able and learned men, the continental doctrines 
 of the eucharist, free will, and justification, were taught to 
 the rising generation of churchmen in England. 
 
 A catechism "for the singular Profit and Instruction 
 of Children and Young People," was Cranmer's next 
 measure. In this "easy, but most useful work,"f the 
 archbishop strongly leans to the ancient doctrines; he 
 teaches the Catholic theory of the body and blood of Christ 
 in the eucharist ; " exhorts much to confessions, and the 
 people's dealing with their pastors about their con- 
 sciences ;" and, contrary to his precepts in the former 
 reign, maintains the divine institution of priests and 
 bishops. A much more important work soon followed — 
 the Book of Common Prayer, compiled chiefly from the 
 Romish ritual, which is in the main similar to that in use 
 at the present hour, and which almost immediately re- 
 ceived the sanction of Edward and his parliament. The 
 church of England having now by law its own liturgy, 
 rites, and ceremonies, and its separation from the papal 
 communion being thence legislatively consummated, it 
 only remained for Cranmer to win for that liturgy the 
 sympathy and support of public opinion. In his conduct 
 in this delicate affair, as we have premised, we shall find 
 much reason to admire his discretion, excellent common 
 sense, and knowledge of the springs of human action. 
 
 It may be stated as a general rule, that it is essential 
 to the permanent success of religious, not less than of 
 political, revolutions, that they be effected with rapidity ; 
 that is, that the promulgation of the new doctrines be so 
 much in accord with the public aspirations of the time 
 being, — however undefined, vague, or indeterminate these 
 may appear, — that they may seem to be but their echo. 
 Wycliffism was stifled in its birth by the mephitic exhala- 
 tions which for centuries had polluted t,he religious 
 atmosphere of England ; in other words, it was not re- 
 
 * Bucer thought that, for avoiding contention, and for maintaining peaco 
 and quietness in the church, somewhat more ambiguous words should be 
 nsed.that might have a respect to both persuasions concerning the presence. 
 But Martyr was of another judgment, and oflected to speak of the sacra- 
 ment with all plainness and perspicuity. Strypc, ii. 190, 
 
 t Burnet, who says the catechism was first made in Latin by another, 
 litit reviveo in translation by Cranmor. 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 181 
 
 sponded to by public sympathy, it was too much in the van 
 of the general intelligence, it breathed no congenial 
 atmosphere. On the other hand, it cannot fail to strike 
 the philosophic observer, that the very fact of theological 
 innovations spreading rapidly among a rude people, is a 
 positive proof that reason had little or no share in their 
 reception. The progress of truths, which now appear to 
 be a part of our very being, was for a time slow and grad- 
 ual. They were first discussed and adopted by a few, as 
 valuable accessions to their knowledge. The circle of 
 diffusion becomes in time wider and wider : they are now 
 received by many, because they are the opinions of those 
 whom they look up to ; by others, from imitation ; by 
 some, because long familiarity makes their evidence ap- 
 pear intuitive. Their reception thus in time grows 
 universal, and seems, like the acquired perceptions of 
 vision, to be a primary law of our nature. But this slow- 
 ness and gradualness is, it is evident, incompatible with 
 the essential rapidity of a great religious revolution, like 
 that which gives such celebrity to the reigns of Henrv 
 and his immediate successors. Generations would perish 
 without participating in the benefits of the reformation, if 
 they were not at once made glaringly manifest to the 
 dullest apprehensions of the people, instead of relying on 
 the intrinsic truth of its principles and their consequent 
 general, but too tardy, diffusion. This fact could not 
 escape the sagacity of tlie friends of the new doctrines. 
 The question then for them was — to facilitate the progress 
 of those doctrines, by presenting them as tangibly els possi- 
 ble to the common sense of the nation ; while the errors and 
 absurdities of the old worship were no less forcibly expos- 
 ed to what may be designated the sensuous understanding 
 of the vulgar. To men so illiterate as our fathers at tliis 
 time, it would be a vain waste of breath to endeavor to 
 win them to the Protestant tenets by controversial sermons 
 on their gospel purity, or by tracts proving with learned 
 logic the antiscriptural basis of the faith in which they had 
 been bred up. They should be first made to see and feel 
 the truth of Uie one, and see a.nd feel the corruptions of the 
 other. The Horatian remark, that — 
 
 " Segnius irritant animos demissa per aures ; 
 Q.uam qu8B Runt oculis subjecta fidelibus, et qua 
 Ipse sibi tradit spectator," 
 
 applies universally ; and the success which attended the 
 labors of Cranmer and his associates proVes their having 
 acted upon it. The principle thus asserted by the poet 
 
 VOL. I. 16 
 
182 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 pervades all their measures, and indeed almost all the pro- 
 ceedings of the promoters of the English reformation. 
 
 In the former reign, as we have all read, great exer- 
 tions were successfully made in exposing to the senses of 
 the multitude the pretended miracles and pious impostures 
 of the clergy. The miraculous crucifix, the "Rood of 
 Grace," as it was called, which had attracted generations 
 of pilgrims to Boxley in Kent, and which had proved one 
 of the most lucrative of the monkish inventions, was taken 
 to pieces at St. Paul's cross, and the several springs and 
 wheels by which the head, mouth, and eyes of the image 
 were made to move miraculously, according to the pay- 
 ment of the votaries, exposed to the public gaze, touch, 
 and ridicule. " There was a huge image of our Lady at 
 Worcester, that was had in great reverence," it having 
 performed an orthodox number of marvellous cures of both 
 soul and body. It was stripped before the people, and 
 found to be the statue of a bishop, " the which caused 
 huge laughter to the beholders thereon." Another famous 
 imposture was discovered at Hales, in Gloucestershire ; a 
 phial containing the blood of Christ, taken from his body 
 at Jerusalem. Its miraculous nature was shown by its 
 becoming invisible to any one in a state of mortal sin, and 
 continuing so till the criminal had expiated his offences 
 by masses and offerings. The sacred blood was discover- 
 ed to have been the blood of a duck, which was weekly 
 killed in private for the purpose by two monks in the 
 secret of the cheat ; and the visibility of the fluid was 
 found to depend on turning the phial, one side of which 
 was transparent, the other opaque. When rich pilgrims 
 arrived, they were sure to be shown the dark side ; and, 
 " having drained them of all that they brought with them, 
 then they consoled them by turning the clear side out- 
 ward, who upon that went home very well satisfied with 
 their journey, and the expense they had been at."* 
 
 By these exposures to the eye and touch of the mul- 
 titude, the feeling of fraud and corruption in their religious 
 institutions was insensibly reduced, and the public mind 
 prepared for the reception of newer and purer doctrines. 
 To diminish still more the reverence of the people for the 
 ancient worship, plays and farces were frequently perform- 
 ed in the churches, of which the invariable subject was the 
 vices of the clergy, and the absurdities of the established 
 superstitions. The effect of this great engine of ridicule 
 would appear incredible to a modern frequenter of the 
 drama. A semi-malicious relish of all jests at the expense 
 
 * Burnet, ii. 1. 311J. 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 183 
 
 of the great and the reverend, is a part of our national char- 
 acter, and was, in this case, the more freely encouraged by 
 the fiiends of the reformation, because tlie less ceremonial 
 character of the Protestant service exempted it from the 
 caricatures by which the pageants and mummeries of the 
 Catholic worship were held up to public laughter. Thus 
 we see the sensuous character of tlie religion of the 
 church of Rome, by which she bound to herself, during 
 centuries of intellectual darkness, the allegiance of tlie 
 Christian world, tended ultimately to her degradation and 
 downfall. 
 
 Bearing steadily in mind the principle which we have 
 endeavored to explain, Cranmer proceeded in his great 
 undertaking. He knew that it was essential to the rea- 
 sonable and unmysterious character of the new religion, 
 that its service should be expressed in the mother-tongue 
 of its adherents ; and yet he knew — such is the force of 
 superstitious association — that the very fact of tlie mass 
 being celebrated in an unknown dialect impressed the 
 vulgar with a sense of mysterious awe, which, by a natural 
 illusion, was extended to the officiating priesthood. His 
 conduct in this difficulty displayed his good sense and 
 moderation. He framed his new English liturgy out of 
 materials furnished by the Roman ritual. Its elevated 
 piety and simplicity recommended it to the friends of pure 
 religion ; while its being but a translation, in the mother- 
 tongue, of the daily service of their altar, could not fail to 
 attract to it the enlightened members of the Catholic com- 
 munion. In either case, the senses were made ministrant 
 to his purpose. 
 
 A broad mark of sensible distinction being thus drawn 
 between the new and old worship, without inducing the 
 alarm of a radical difference, Cranmer next enlisted the 
 pride of the multitude on his side, by proclaiming their 
 private judgment to be the ultimate appeal in all scriptural 
 controversy. Not that he ever intended to consult their 
 decisions, for he was too well aware of their incompetency 
 to come to any ; but he knew that the permission to every 
 man to freely exercise his " private judgment" in the 
 meaning of the Scriptures, could not fail to alienate him 
 from a religion which denied that indulgence, and to make 
 him, on the other hand, a friend to the system of belief 
 which granted it as a matter of right. In point of fact, 
 the reformers were at this time to the full as intolerant as 
 the Catholics in their interpretations of the sacred volume ; 
 but employed different, though much less consistent, 
 means of ensuring a conformity with their own comments 
 
184 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 and opinions. All, therefore, who fancied they were 
 exercising their private judgment, when they were proba- 
 bly only marshaling one set. of prejudices in array against 
 another, favored the new doctrines. 
 
 The Scriptures being now the inheritance of every man, 
 and the right of exercising the private judgment in their 
 interpretation being promulgated as a religious obligation, 
 the next step for the promoters of the reformation natural- 
 ly was, the sweeping away all those ceremonies and dog- 
 mas of the Roman worship which were not sanctioned by 
 the letter or the spirit of the inspired writings. The 
 Virgin, consequently, was deprived of her divine honors ; 
 most of the saints were cashiered or superannuated ; and 
 the terra incognita of purgatory expunged from the map 
 of true religion, as unknown to the prophets, and repug- 
 nant to the doctrine of justification. The practice of 
 confession was left to the opinion of each " private judg- 
 ment" on its efficacy, and very soon fell into disuse. 
 
 The sacrament of the Lord's Supper can present itself 
 to the candid mind but under two interpretations, — either 
 that of the church of Rome, with all its absurdities ; or 
 that of the Zuinglian divines, with its apparent contradic- 
 tions to the letter of the gospel. Endless attempts, 
 however, were for nearly a century made to hit off a kind 
 of middle term which might embrace the two opposing 
 doctrines ; and it was not till an ocean of blood and ink 
 had been spilt, that the Zuinglian version became a part 
 of the English liturgy. 
 
 Though the reformation was now consummated, its 
 great fosterer's labors were not at an end. The statute 
 imposing celibacy on the clergy was yet unrepealed : his 
 wife and children were still exiles. The marriage of 
 ecclesiastics was highly unpalatable to parliament and 
 the nation ; so much so, indeed, that, had not Cranmer's 
 private feelings been deeply involved in the issue, it is 
 very doubtful whether the liberty of entering into a state 
 of wedlock would be even now enjoyed by the priesthood. 
 It certainly would not have been granted in the reign of 
 Elizabeth, or in that of her successor ; and would not have 
 been thought of in the cabinet of Mary. 
 
 In the preamble to the jfirst bill which, at the instigation 
 of the archbishop, was brought into parliament, to repeal so 
 much of the law of tlie Six Articles as prohibited the 
 marriage of the clergy, the intended indulgence was 
 spoken of as an " ignominious and tolerated evil ;" and 
 perpetual continence was recommended, as becoming the 
 spiritual character of a ministry which could not be too 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER, 185 
 
 much relieved from wordly embarrassments m the perfor- 
 mance of its duties. Cranmer, however, persevered ; and, 
 after much opposition, a subsequent bill received the 
 sanction of the legislature, and liberty to marry became 
 the right of Protestant churchmen. 
 
 It would have been well for Cranmer's reputation, had 
 he confined himself exclusively to the duties of his prela- 
 cy, and had not lent the weight of his name, as patriarch 
 of the church of England, to the designs of factious am- 
 bition. " But even the good men of those days," says a 
 late writer* on them, "were strange beings." Where 
 blood and life are or may be involved in the result, the 
 canon law prohibits clergymen from having any share 
 in the transaction ; nevertheless, such was the archbishop's 
 unfortunate facility of compliance with the requests of 
 another, — the brother of the criminal, — that he signed tiie 
 warrant for the admiral Seymour's execution, and influenced 
 Latimer to justify the deed in a sermon before the boy 
 monarch. Seymour no doubt merited his fate ; but the 
 minister of a religion of peace and mercy should not have 
 been, in any way, his executioner. 
 
 A measure still more questionable, of which Cranmer 
 was the chief agent, was the harsh treatment of those 
 prelates who adhered to the ancient forms of worship. 
 The reader need hardly be reminded of the imprisonment 
 and deprivations of Bonner, then bishop of London, and 
 Gardiner, bishop of Winchester. The unnecessary (to 
 use the mildest phrase) oppression of those vindictive 
 men only created justifying precedents for retaliating in 
 kind when circumstances afterwards possessed them with 
 the power. Without intimidating them, it generated the 
 will and the motive to persecute in return, and taught the 
 benevolent the melancholy truth, that the difference be- 
 tween the prelates of the old and the new church was less 
 one of intolerance of spirit, than of verbal faith and out- 
 ward worship. 
 
 But these were but slight blemishes compared with tlie 
 flagitious persecutions for heresy which stain the reputa- 
 tion of Cranmer. It might have been fairly expected from 
 men who had taken the lead in asserting the liberty of 
 thinking with an unfettered conscience on religion, and 
 wlio had boldly opposed the right of private judgment to 
 the authority of ages, that they at least would respect that 
 right, and that liberty, when exercised by others. Above 
 
 * Turner's Modern History of England, a valuable depository of curious 
 facts and reasonings. 
 
 16* 
 
186 BRITISH STATESMEN; 
 
 all men, a repugnance to the shedding of blood for points 
 of faith should have been manifested by Cranmer ; for he 
 had seen the innocent led to the scaffold, and had in the 
 former reign assisted in consigning to the flames the fear- 
 less asserter of doctrines which he now himself heartily 
 espoused. But this, as we have before observed, was an 
 age of religious bigotry, and even the benevolent Cranmer 
 partook of its persecuting spirit. In the third year of 
 Edward's reign, in 1549, a commission was appointed, of 
 which the archbishop was head, to " search after all ana- 
 baptists, heretics, and condemners of the Common Prayer," 
 and to hand them over to the secular power in the event 
 of their failing previously to reclaim them. Many abjured 
 their errors rather than become martyrs, and carried fag- 
 gots at St. Paul's cross in the usual manner of penitent 
 Heretics. " But," says Burnet (Hist. Reformation, vol. ii. 
 p. 146.), " there was another of these extreme obstinates, 
 Joan Bocher, commonly called Joan of Kent. She de- 
 nied that Christ was truly incarnate of the Virgin, whose 
 flesh being sinful, he could take none of it; but the Word, 
 by the consent of the inward man in the Virgin, took flesh 
 of her : these were her words. They took much pains 
 about her, and had many conferences with her ; but she 
 was so extravagantly conceited in her own notions, that 
 ^he rejected all they said with scorn. Whereupon she 
 was adjudged an obstinate heretic, and so left to the sec- 
 ular power. This sentence being returned to the coun- 
 cil, the good king was moved to sign a warrant for burning 
 her, but could not be prevailed on to do it ; he thought it 
 a piece of cruelty, too like that which they had condemned 
 in papists, to burn any for their consciences. And, in a 
 long discourse he had with sir J. Chick, he seemed much 
 confirmed in that opinion. Cranmer was therefore em- 
 ployed to persuade him to sign the warrant." (What an 
 office for an aged prelate to a child!) "He argued from 
 the law of Moses, by which blasphemers were to be 
 stoned : he told the king he made a great difference be- 
 tween errors in other points of divinity and those which 
 were directed against the apostles' creed ; that these were 
 impieties against God, which a prince, as being God's 
 deputy, ought to punish, as the king's deputies were 
 obliged to punish offences against the king's person. 
 These reasons did rather silence than satisfy the young 
 king, who still thought it a hard thing (as in truth it AvasJ 
 to proceed so severely in such cases ; so he set his hand 
 to the warrant with tears in his eyes, saying to Cranmer, 
 that if he did Avrong, since it was in submission to his 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 187 
 
 authority, he should answer for it to God." This decla- 
 ration of the young monarch so alarmed the archbishop, 
 that he had the woman brought to his house, " to see if he 
 and Ridley could persuade her ;" but she only replied with 
 jeers and taunts at their inconsistencies. " It is a goodly 
 matter," said she to Cranmer, as he was on the point of 
 passing sentence on her, "to consider your ignorance. 
 It was not long ago you burned Anne Arken for a piece 
 of bread, and yet came yourself soon after to believe and 
 profess the same doctrine for which you burned her ; and 
 now, forsooth, you will needs burn me for a piece of flesh, 
 and in the end you will come to believe this also, when 
 you have read the Scriptures and understand them." This 
 almost irresistible appeal only irritated the prelate : he de- 
 livered sentence against her as an obstinate heretic, and 
 she wELs burned soon after. A few days later, Von Parris, 
 a Dutchman, was also consigned to the flames for Arian- 
 ism. 
 
 Such was the conduct, so monstrously inconsistent, of 
 the great patriarchs of the reformation. Blinded by re- 
 ligious zeal, and the intolerant spirit of the age, they 
 could not see that they were furnishing the adherents to 
 the ancient faith with a rich armory of weapons of perse- 
 cution. It did not strike them, that if Joan Bocher and 
 Von Parris were guilty in freely exercising their private 
 judgment in interpreting the Scriptures, all their ecclesi- 
 astical innovations, and the reformation itself, must, h forti- 
 ori^ be denounced as the most audacious and deliberate 
 criminality. But, it cannot be too often repeated, these 
 were times of unparalleled changes, great excitement, and 
 intolerance. A mighty concussion had shaken society to 
 its foundation, and the moral and intellectual man had not 
 yet reasserted himself in his native equanimity and clear- 
 sightedness. Men should, we again remind the reader, 
 be judged by the standard of their own age alone ; as there 
 is no man but in a great degree takes his coloring of con- 
 duct from the habits of his contemporaries and immediate 
 predecessors. We are the creatures of circumstance and 
 imitation ; and imitation, says Bacon, is a globe of precepts. 
 The progress of truth and improvement is imperceptible 
 in short periods : so that the habits of thought and action, 
 the religious belief, the political predilections and aversions, 
 and opinions of men and books of the passing events, differ 
 but a shade here and there from those of the past genera- 
 tions ; and that again runs, like the colors of the rainbow, 
 insensibly into the preceding. No one link of the chain 
 of being, therefore, stands out prominently in advance of 
 
 \ 
 
188 BRITISH STATE SME^iJ. 
 
 its neighboring one in either moral or intellectual im- 
 provement; and though individuals may, in the closet, 
 promulgate doctrines that far outstrip the general intelli- 
 gence, they must wait till that intelligence has grown up 
 to them before these doctrines become principles of action. 
 In the mean while, their conduct in life assimilates itself 
 to that of their fellow men, however theoretically incon- 
 sistent with their private speculations. 
 
 A great moral lesson should be the inference from 
 these remarks — charity towards the holder of opinions 
 different from our own, and a hesitation to condemn too 
 harshly the actions and usages of other times and circum- 
 stances. We teach our children to loathe the very name 
 of " bloody queen Mary ;" but we forget, at the same 
 time, to inform them, that that princess possessed virtues 
 which, in circumstances more favorable to their growth 
 than those by which she was surrounded from her cradle, 
 would have made her a theme for our warmest eulogies. 
 We teach them to justly reprobate the name of Bonner, 
 without informing them, that if that dark-minded prelate 
 had lived in our days, his zeal would be confined to an in- 
 tolerant speech from the bench of bishops, or a declama- 
 tory pamphlet, or angry charge against his religious oppo- 
 nents ; and that it is not improbable, that, if some of the 
 ecclesiastical dignitaries of our own times had been his 
 contemporaries, their conduct would not have been less 
 intolerant. We have all read with indignation of the 
 burning of Servetus : we have all seen the ashes of the 
 poet Byron refused a resting place in Westminster 
 Abbey. No doubt the honor of religion was the sole 
 source of the latter ungracious act ; but did Calvin only 
 indulge a passion for torturing a fellow-creature ? Change 
 the time, tlie place, the circumstances, and would — or 
 rather say, could — the stern reformer of Geneva, in the 
 nineteenth century, evince his disapprobation of heterodoxy 
 more pointedly .? In a word, then, let us judge charitably 
 of our persecuting fathers; and while reprobating and 
 avoiding their faults, let us bless Providence that we have 
 been permitted to live in a country and an age of civil 
 and religious liberty. 
 
 The court of the well-taught clever boy who now held 
 the sceptre liad been for some tim« a scene of contentions 
 between tlie Dudley and Seymour factions. Cranmer 
 was an adherent to the interest of the protector ; for to 
 liim was he indebted for the aid of tlie government in 
 erecting the new system of public worship. There was a 
 something, moreover, of congeniality of disposition in the 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 189 
 
 two men, that tinged their official intercourse with the 
 warmth of private friendship. Both were well-intentioned 
 and Idnd-hearted : Somerset, not less than the archbishop, 
 wanted that firmness and decision of character so necessa- 
 ry in times of danger and trouble to men in high station. 
 It was, therefore, with regret that Cranmer saw his patron 
 led to the scaffold, and his rival, Northumberland, in pos- 
 session of the young monarch's confidence. "On the 
 22d of January, 1552," writes Edward in his journal, " the 
 duke of Somerset had his head cut off upon Tower Hill, 
 between eight and nine in the morning." This duke of 
 Somerset, whose execution is thus so coldly and briefly 
 noticed, the reader is aware, was the youthful journalist's 
 favorite uncle. 
 
 Edward had inherited a delicate constitution from his 
 mother, and with it that precociousness of talent some- 
 times considered as indicative of a short career. His ill- 
 ness was now advancing rapidly to its fatal termination. 
 On the 11th of June, 1553, Montague, chief justice of the 
 common pleas, with two of the puisne judges, and the 
 attorney and solicitor general, received a summons to at- 
 tend the council at the palace of Greenwich. On their 
 arrival the dying monarch informed them that his anxiety 
 for the welfare of his subjects had induced him to change 
 the order of succession laid down by his royal father; 
 that he had seriously weighed the danger the kingdom 
 might be exposed to if his sister Mary, with her popish 
 predilections, should succeed to the throne, and the danger 
 that might follow to the laws and religion of the country 
 if either of the princesses married a stranger to both. The 
 law officers were then ordered to draw up a legal instru- 
 ment, declaring his cousin, the lady Jane Dudley, daughter 
 of Grey, duke of Suffolk, and wife of a son of Northumber- 
 land, the prime originator of the whole proceeding, heir to 
 the crown. After many delays and expostulations on the 
 part of the chief justice and his colleagues, and repri- 
 mands and threats from the king and Northumberland, the 
 instrument establishing a new order of succession was 
 legally executed. On the 21st of June it was signed by 
 the chancellor, the archbishop, judges, and the leading 
 nobility. Cranmer at first refused the sanction of his 
 name to the deed, and argued zealously against it at the 
 council and in private. " I never liked it," he says, in his 
 letter to queen Mary, " nor any thing grieved me so much 
 as your grace's brother did ; and if by any means it had 
 been to have hindered the making of that will I should 
 have done it." He yielded ultimately to Edward's personal 
 
190 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 entreaties. "So at length I was required by the king's 
 majesty himself to set my hand to his will, saying, that he 
 trusted that I alone would not be more repugnant to his 
 will than the rest of the council were ; which words surely 
 grieved my heart very sore, and so I granted him to sub- 
 scribe his will, and to follow tlie same." On the 6th of 
 July the youthful monarch expired. 
 
 The nine-days' reign of the young, beautiful, and all- 
 accomplished pupil of Roger Ascham, lady Jane Dudley, 
 followed, with its fatal consequences to its innocent victim 
 and guilty author. For the designing and unprincipled 
 Northumberland there can be no pity ; he justly died the 
 death of a traitor ; but who that reads the artless narrative 
 of the puppet-queen, but must lament that she should have 
 been the ill-fated tool of her father-in-law's ambition. 
 Cranmer adhered faithfully to her interests to the last 
 hour, though, as we have seen, he had embraced them 
 with reluctance. 
 
 From Mary the archbishop could hope but for little 
 mercy : all that was dark and resentful in her story was 
 associated with his name. It was he that annulled her 
 mother's marriage, and had declared herself illegitimate ; 
 he was the subverter of her religion, and the head of the 
 new system of worship that had been raised in its stead ; 
 and he had joined in a conspiracy to snatch the crown from 
 her brow, and was one of the last to abandon the fortunes 
 of her competitor ; a deep sense of private "wrong, there- 
 fore, united with religious zeal in visiting his offences with 
 the heaviest punishment. But the blow did not fall all at 
 once : it was deemed prudent to wait till the new queen 
 had become firmly seated on her throne. 
 
 King Edward was buried on the 8th of August, on 
 which occasion Cranmer officiated according to the Pro- 
 testant ritual. He was next day ordered to confine him- 
 self to the archiepiscopal palace of Lambeth, and to fur- 
 nish the council with an inventory of his movable posses- 
 sions. He was joined in his retirement by Peter Martyr, 
 who had fled from Oxford, where the reformed doctrines 
 had not even yet taken root, and who confirmed the fears 
 of the archbishop, that their joint labors in establishing a 
 scriptural system of worship would be unproductive during 
 the reign of the present monarch. Cranmer conducted 
 himself with great humility ; so much so, indeed, as to 
 induce his enemies to give out, " that he was ready to 
 submit himself in all things" to the Avill of the council. 
 To add to his anxiety, it was communicated to him that 
 mass had been performed in Canterbury catliedral with 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 191 
 
 his alleged consent and permission. The honest zeal of 
 Peter Martyr felt indignant at the imputation, and, by his 
 advice, Cranmer gave it a public denial. The declaration 
 which he drew up on this occasion does honor, by its bold- 
 ness, to his courage and sincerity. It stated, " that as the 
 devil had at ^U times set on his instruments by lies to defame 
 the servants of God, so he was now more than ordinarily 
 busy. For whereas king Henry had begun the correct- 
 ing the abuses of the mass, which his son had brought to 
 a further perfection ; and so the Lord's Supper was re- 
 stored to its first institution, and was celebrated accord- 
 ing to the pattern of the primitive church ; now the devil, 
 intending to bring the mass again into its room, as being 
 his own invention, had stirred up some to give out that it 
 had been set up in Canterbury by his, the said Cranmer's, 
 order; and it was said that he had undertaken to sing 
 mass to the queen's majesty, both at king Edward's fune- 
 ral at St. Paul's and other places ; and though, for these 
 twenty years, he had despised all such errors and false 
 reports of him as were spread abroad, yet he now thought it 
 not fit to lie under such misrepresentations ; therefore he 
 protests to all the world that the mass was not set up at 
 Canterbury by his, the said Cranmer's, order, but that a 
 fawning hypocritical monk had done it without his knowl- 
 edge ; and for what he was said to have undertaken to the 
 queen, her majesty knew well how false that was, offering, 
 if he miglit obtain her leave for it, to maintain that every 
 thing in the communion service that was set out by their 
 most innocent and good king Edward was according to 
 Christ's institution, and the practice of the apostles and 
 the ancient church for many ages, to which the msiss was 
 contrary, being full of errors and abuses ; and although 
 Peter Martyr was by some called an ignorant man, he 
 with him, or other four or five such as he could choose, 
 would be ready to defend, not only their Book of Com- 
 mon Prayer and the other rites of their service, but the 
 whole doctrines and order of religion set forth by the late 
 kin^, as more pure and more agreeable to the word of God 
 than any sort of religion that had been in England for a 
 thousand years before it ; provided that things should be 
 judged by the Scriptures, and that the reasonings on both 
 sides should be faithfully written down."* 
 
 On the 8th, Cranmer was summoned to answer for it 
 before the council. On the 13th, " after a long and serious 
 debate," he was committed to the Tower, for matters of 
 
 * Burnet. — This bold declaration was publicly read in Cheapside and 
 elsewhere on the 5tii of September. • 
 
 \ 
 
192 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 treason against the queen, and for dispersing of seditious 
 bills. He was attainted in the ensuing parliament of 
 treason, and the fruits of his archbishopric sequestered. 
 The charge of treason was, however, forgiven or abandon- 
 ed, it being determined that he should be proceeded against 
 for heresy alone. 
 
 The rebellion of Wyat produced the usual effect of 
 unsuccessful insurrection ; it strengthened the power of 
 the crown, and removed the obstacle of public inertia to 
 its favorite measures. With its suppression began those 
 burnings and persecutions which have entailed upon 
 this reign the lasting odium of posterity. It was now 
 resolved to proceed to extremities with Cranmer and the 
 other leaders of the reformation. From the Tower, where 
 they had been confined for the last seven months, the arch- 
 bishop, Latimer, and Ridley were conducted to Oxford, 
 there to hold a public disputation with the Catholic theolo- 
 gians on the great points of difference between the two 
 churches. The Catholic was then the religion of the sove- 
 reign : of course the moderator in the disputation decided 
 in favor of the divines of the state worship ; Cranmer and 
 his associates were declared to be vanquished and contu- 
 macious, and the hall resounded with the cries of " Vincit 
 Veritas." It was in vain that they declared to the council 
 that they had been silenced by noise,* and not by argu- 
 ment ; and that they appealed to the judgment of the Al- 
 mighty from the decision of the moderator. The council 
 hearkened not to their prayer, and left them to their fate. 
 Two days after the decision against them, they were 
 brought before the commissioners, and asked whether they 
 would subscribe to the ancient worship. They unanimous- 
 ly refused, and were condemned as obstinate heretics. 
 The usual formalities of the papal code in heretical 
 prosecutions were gone through. Cranmer was cited as 
 an archbishop to appear before the pope within the 
 canonical period (eighty days) laid down on such occa- 
 sions, and at the expiration of the eighty days was deliver- 
 ed over to the secular power. He was accused of blas- 
 phemy and heresy for his writings against the Roman 
 worship, of perjury for violating his oath of canonical 
 obedience, and of incontinency for having married after 
 his vow of celibacy ; and was declared to be contumacious 
 for not having (and he was a prisoner all the time) appear- 
 
 * Cranmer, in his letter to the council, says, " I never knewe nor bearde, 
 of a more confusied disputacyon in all my life. For albeit there was one 
 appoynted to dispute agaynste me, yet evrey man spak hys mynde, and 
 brought forth what hym liked, without order ; and such hast was mad* 
 that no antwere covlde be suffered to be given." 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 198 
 
 ed at Rome, according to the letter of the citation. He 
 was now in hourly expectation of his fate — the rather as 
 Gardiner and Bonner, whom he had treated with great 
 harshness in the late reign, were the queen's most influen- 
 tial counsellors. From them he could expect no favor; 
 the implacable hatred of polemical antagonists being, in 
 both, inflamed by the recollection of personal oppression. 
 Had the archbishop been at this time led to the scaffold, — 
 such was the resigned firmness of his mind, — Ms name 
 would have probably been spared the stain of his subse- 
 quent recantations. 
 
 Hitherto Cranmer had displayed unremittent courage in 
 his sufferings, and was prepared to prove his sincerity by 
 his death. But with delay and suspense came vague 
 hopes, and a damping of zeal and courage. From the 
 window of his cell, he had seen his friends and fellow- 
 laborers in the vineyard, Ridley and Latimer, led to ex- 
 ecution. 
 
 The excruciating torments Avhich they were made to 
 endure shook his resolution. Hopes were held out to him 
 that his life might be spared if he relented from his obsti- 
 nacy ; he wavered, and expressed a wish to have a con- 
 ference with the legate. This fit of irresolution, however, 
 soon passed over ; and having expressed his regret for his 
 weakness, he wrote a long letter to the queen in defence 
 of the Protestant doctrines. But Gardiner was well ac- 
 quainted with that want of firmness which was the blem- 
 ish of the archbishop's character, and knew that, havmg 
 once hesitated, it was highly probable he would hesitate 
 again. Cranmer was accordingly told to prepare himself 
 for his speedy execution. The intelligence had its intend- 
 ed effect ; his spirit was broken by confinement, his courage 
 gave way, and death by burning presented itself to his im- 
 agination with all its features of horror. Six instruments 
 of recantation still bear witness to his " human infirmity." 
 Thus 
 
 " The base drachm 
 
 Doth all the noble substance often dout 
 To his own scandal," 
 
 and thus the one defect of Cranmer's mind led to acts 
 which his frequent heroism scarcely atoned for. He now 
 feigned himself a reconvert to the Catholic doctrines, and 
 for six weeks openly condemned the "errors of Luther 
 and Zuinglius, acknowledged the pope's supremacy, the 
 seven sacraments, the corporal presence in the eucharist, 
 purgatory, prayer for departed souls, the invocation of 
 
 VOL. I. 17 
 
194 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 saints, to which was added his being sorry for his former 
 errors ; and concluded, exhorting all that had been deceiv- 
 ed by his example or doctrines to return to the unity of 
 the church, and protesting that he had signed his recanta- 
 tion willingly, only for the discharge of his conscience."* 
 
 Fortunately for the reputation of Cranmer, these humil- 
 iating recantations were not rewarded by a pardon. To 
 Ridley and Latimer life had been offered on their renounc- 
 ing their " heresies ;" but it was decided in the council 
 that no recantation should save the archbishop. His polit- 
 ical offences, it was said, might be overlooked ; but his of- 
 fences against religion required that he should suffer for 
 the sake of example. A writ for his execution was ac- 
 cordingly despatched to Oxford, and a day fixed. But 
 Cranmer with his firmness lost his dignity of mind. With 
 the hope of still averting his fate, he signed another docu- 
 ment, in which he declared he was not actuated by fear or 
 favor, and that his former recantation Avas made unsolicit- 
 edly, for the ease of his own conscience and the instruc- 
 tion of others. A letter to cardinal Pole, — he knew he 
 need not address Gardiner, — accompanied this document, 
 in which he begged that prelate's influence to obtain him 
 a few days' respite, in order that he might give the world 
 a still more convincing proof of his repentance. The 
 respite was granted ; and Cranmer, in a sixth confession, 
 declared that he had been a greater persecutor of the 
 church than Paul, and that he wished, like that apostle, to 
 make amends. He could not rebuild what he had de- 
 stroyed ; but as the penitent thief on the cross by the 
 testimony of his lips obtained mercy, so he trusted that he 
 by the offering of his lips should move the clemency of the 
 Almighty. He was an offender beyond the pale of tem- 
 poral or eternal mercy ; he had blasphemed the sacrament, 
 and had deprived men of the benefit of the eucharist. To 
 conclude, he entreated for forgiveness from the pope and 
 the king and queen, and pity from all Christians. 
 
 Fortunately, we repeat, for Cranmer's fame, his offence 
 against the honor of Mary's birth had made her inexorably 
 resolved on his execution. Had he been then pardoned, 
 and permitted to eke out his existence in obscurity, his 
 name would now be a by-word synonymous with all that 
 is loathsome in hypocrisy, cowardice, and apostacy. He 
 would have been so degraded in his own eyes, that he 
 could never have ventured again to present himself to that 
 church of which he was the founder, but from which the 
 
 * Burnet, ii. 2. The reader will see six recantations, quoted at length, 
 in Todd's Life of Cranmer, just published. 
 
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. ] 95 
 
 fear of death had made him apostatize. Again we repeat, 
 his reputation is indebted to the profound hatred of the 
 queen, who, unmoved by his cries for mercy, and his ex- 
 pressions of deep remorse, desired the law to take its 
 course. 
 
 The 2l8t of March was the day fixed for his execution. 
 To the last moment, Cranmer clung to the hope of mercy ; 
 and was astounded when a Spanish friar announced to 
 him, on the fatal morning, that his hours were numbered, 
 and that he should prepare himself for his last earthly trial. 
 The friar then handed to him a paper, to be read at the 
 stake, as a dying testimony of his repentance. It was a 
 summary of his recantations. Cranmer signed it; and, 
 having transcribed it, kept a copy for his own use. When 
 the friar had departed, he altered his copy, and made it 
 equivalent to a disavowal of all his former abjurations and 
 denials. At the usual hour the procession set forward : it 
 halted at the church of St. Mary, where the last sermon 
 was preached by a Dr. Cole. The archbishop stood on a 
 platform opposite to the pulpit, according to an eye-wit- 
 ness (quoted by Strype), "the very image of sorrow." 
 Remorse for his recent unworthy conduct had taken entire 
 possession of his soul. His face was bathed in tears, and 
 expressed " great inward confusion ;" and his eyes were 
 sometimes lifted up to heaven, now fixed downward on 
 earth, "as one ashamed of himself." The sermon having 
 been concluded, the preacher called on Cranmer to declare 
 his faith. The archbishop then took out his paper: all 
 were prepared for a repetition of his recantations, tlie 
 rather as the merits of his conversion had been dwelt upon 
 by Dr. Cole in his sermon. He was heard with profound 
 attention, till he "spake to that which, he said, troubled 
 his conscience more than any thing he had ever done in 
 his whole life ; which was the subscribing a paper contrary 
 to the truth, and against his conscience, out of fear of 
 death and love of life ; and when he came to the fire, he 
 was resolved that that hand that had signed it should burn 
 first." He then repeated, that his former opinions on the 
 papal usurpation, and on the eucharist, were those he died 
 in. " Upon this there was a wonderful confusion in the 
 assembly." Lord Williams called to him to remember 
 himself, and play the Christian. " I do," replied Cranmer, 
 with tears: "it is now too late to dissemble; I must now 
 speak the truth. I have been hitherto a hater of falsehood 
 and a lover of simplicity, and never before this time have 
 I dissembled." He was immediately led to the stage 
 which had been erected for his execution, opposite Baliol 
 
196 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 College, where he put off his clothes in haste, and, standing 
 in his shirt, and without shoes, was fastened with a chain 
 to the stake. Some of the crowd urged him to declare in 
 favor of his former recantations. He answered, showing 
 his hand, " This is the hand that wrote it, and therefore it 
 shall suffer punishment." Fire being applied to him, he 
 stretched out his right hand into the flame, and held it 
 there unmoved (except that once with it he wiped his face) 
 till it was consumed, crying with a loud voice, •' This hand 
 hath offended — this unworthy right hand." At last, the 
 fire getting up, he soon expired, never stirring or crying 
 out all the while, only keeping his eyes fixed on heaven, 
 and repeating more than once, " Lord Jesus, receive my 
 spirit !" Cranmer thus perished, in the 67th year of his 
 age. 
 
 It is hardly necessary to offer additional remarks on the 
 character of Cranmer, as, we persuade ourselves, its lead- 
 ing features have been sufficiently displayed to the reader 
 in the course of our narrative. His' contemporaries unite 
 in attributing to him all the virtues that adorn a private 
 station. He was humble and affectionately kind to the 
 poor, ever attentive to their wants, ever happy in relieving 
 them. To the rich and powerful he is also represented as 
 uniformly courteous and respectful, equally remote from 
 obsequiousness, and, what has been considered as not un- 
 usual in men of his rank, episcopal arrogance. In the 
 mildness and yielding gentleness of his temper, and in the 
 " vicious feeblenesses" to which the excess of those ex- 
 cellent qualities invariably leads, he very much resembled 
 Philip Melancthon. Like that amiable man, too, he wanted 
 the enthusiastic confidence in the goodness of his cause 
 which spurns the aid cf unworthy expedients, and fearless- 
 ly pursues its straightforward course in all times and sea- 
 sons. But here the resemblance ends. Cranmer pos- 
 sessed neither the g(;nius nor the learning of the German 
 theologian ; and, the ugh naturally as candid and truth- 
 loving, did not exhil »it the same ingenuous buoyancy in 
 troubled waters. The truth is, the very virtues of his 
 character united wit i its defects in unfitting him for high 
 stations in times like those which it was his fate to 
 live in. 
 
 He was constitutionally wedded to peace and quietness ; 
 and wanting, as we have seen, firmness and decision of 
 purpose, and the higher and sterner elements of moral 
 greatness, was too glad to embrace repose from toil and 
 danger upon almost any terms. Hence we may conclude 
 that, had his lot been confined to private life, his conduct 
 
LORD BURLEIGH, 197 
 
 would have been unexceptionably amiable, and himself 
 universally respected ; and hence we may also affirm, that 
 under no circumstances could he have been a great man. 
 As it is, we pity much more than wo condemn him, and 
 willingly shut our eyes on his defects and errors, when we 
 recollect his cruel death, and his services in aid of the re- 
 formation. These it is that have snatched his name from 
 oblivion, or from indifference, perhaps contempt, and that, 
 in the teeth of mutually admitted facts, have kept alive a 
 controversy on the real merits of his character. By our 
 own zealots he is held up to our admiration, as the most 
 glorious and faultless martyr of the church of England ; 
 by the Romanists, his name is branded with every epithet 
 of meanness and inconsistency : as if, in this most absurd 
 logomachy, the character of the reformation, or the gospel 
 purity of the rival creeds, were to be determined, or for a 
 moment affected, by the conduct of individuals ; and as if 
 it was not among the most wonderful of the dispensations 
 of Providence, which "out of evil seeks to bring forth 
 good," that it has sometimes been pleased to employ the 
 guiltiest instruments in effecting its highest and holiest 
 purposes. 
 
 WILLIAM CECIL, LORD BURLEIGH. 
 
 1520—1598. 
 
 William Cecil,* descended from an ancient and re- 
 spectable family, was bom at Bourn in Lincolnshire, in 
 the year 1520.t Both his father and grandfather held 
 honorable appointments under Henry VIII. His father 
 was master of the robes ; an office, in that age, of consid- 
 erable distinction. During his early education, his prog- 
 ress either exhibited nothing remarkable, or has been 
 overlooked by his biographers, amidst the splendor of his 
 succeeding transactions ; for we are merely informed, tliat 
 he received the first rudiments of learning at the grammar 
 schools of Grantham and Stamford.J But at St. John's 
 college, Cambridge, to which he was removed in the fif- 
 teenth year of his age, he gave strong indications of the 
 
 * This life is taken by permission -from Macdiarmid's Britisli Statesmen. 
 t Lord Burleigh's Diary, in the British Museum, Harleian MS. No. 46. 
 X Life of William Lord Burghlcy, by one of his domestics, edited by 
 Collins in 1732, p. G. 
 
 17* 
 
198 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 qualities calculated to raise him to fiiture eminence. He 
 suffered no irregularity to interrupt his pursuits ; and 
 seemed resolute to excel his fellow-students, by the cer- 
 tain means of incessant application. That he might daily 
 devote several hours to study, without any hazard of inter- 
 ruption, he made an agreement with the bell-ringer to be 
 called up every morning at four o'clock. The strength of 
 his constitution, however, did not correspond with the ar- 
 dor of his mind ; for, in consequence of much sitting, 
 without proper intervals of exercise, he contracted a pain- 
 ful humor in his legs ; and though subsequently cured of 
 this distemper, his physicians considered it as a principal 
 cause of that inveterate gout which embittered the latter 
 part of his life.* 
 
 His indefatigable industry soon led to a proficiency 
 which drew on him the particular notice of his teachers. 
 The master of the college encouraged his perseverance 
 by occasional presents,! but his ambition seems to have 
 required no such stimulant. He began, at sixteen, to put 
 in practice the methods then usual of acquiring literary 
 celebrity, by delivering a public lecture. His first topic 
 was the logic of the schools ; but, three years afterwards, 
 he ventured to comment on the Greek language, which 
 had hitherto been cultivated with more eagerness than 
 success. He was afterwards ambitious of excelling as a 
 general scholar ; and successively directed his industry to 
 the various branches of literature then cultivated at the 
 university .f 
 
 When he was supposed to have laid a sufficient founda- 
 tion of useful knowledge, he was removed from the uni- 
 versity to Gray's Inn, where he applied himself to the study 
 of the law, with the same method and industry as he had 
 observed at Cambridge. He found leisure also for several 
 collateral pursuits : the antiquities of the kingdom, and 
 more especially the pedigrees and fortunes of the most 
 distinguished families, occupied much of his attention ; 
 and such was his progress in these pursuits, that no man 
 of his time was accounted a more complete . adept in her- 
 aldry.§ This species of information, had he adhered to 
 the destination for the bar, might have been of little utility; 
 but, in his career of a statesman, it often proved of essen- 
 tial advantage. His practice was to record with his pen 
 every thing worthy of notice which occurred to him, eitiier 
 
 ♦ Life of William Lord Bur^hley, p. 6. 
 
 t Fuller's HiBtory of the University of Cambridge, p. 95. 
 
 J Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 7. 
 Bacon's Works, vol. iv. p. 358. edit. 1740. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 199 
 
 m reading or observation, arranging this information in 
 the most methodical manner, — a singular example of dili- 
 gence, which is authenticated to posterity by collections 
 of his manuscripts, still preserved in many public and pri- 
 vate libraries. While, from this practice, he derived, be- 
 sides other advantages, an uncommon facility in commit- 
 ting his thoughts to writing, he neglected not to cultivate 
 an accomplishment still more essential to his intended 
 profession, — a ready and graceful enunciation. By fre- 
 quenting various companies, and entering into free discus- 
 sion, he learnt to express himself with ease and confidence ; 
 while the extent of his information, and the soundness of 
 his judgment, prevented his fluency from degenerating 
 into declamation. 
 
 These acquisitions, united to a singular industry, must 
 have raised him, at an early period, to great eminence in 
 his profession, had not an incident, which introduced him 
 to the notice of Henry VIII., soon diverted his attention 
 to a different career. Cecil, having accidentally met, in 
 the presence chamber, with two Irish priests, who had 
 come to court in the train of O'Neil, their chieflain, hap- 
 pened to enter into an argument with them on the pope's 
 supremacy, of which they were zealous abettors ; and, by 
 his superior knowledge and fluency, so baffled his antago- 
 nists, that they began to vent their uneasy feelings in vio- 
 lent expressions. This contest was conducted in Latin ; 
 and the particulars of it having been reported to Henry, 
 the monarch, pleased with this indication of talents, and 
 still more with the successful refutation of the pope's su- 
 premacy, desired to see the young man ; and, in the course 
 of a long conversation, conceived so favorable an opinion 
 of his abilities, that he resolved to take him into his service, 
 and directed his father (the master of the robes) to find 
 out an office which might suit him. As no suitable situa- 
 tion happened to be vacant at the time, his father pitched 
 on the reversion of the custos hrevium in the common 
 pleas, which was readily granted.* 
 
 From the time of this introduction at court, which hap- 
 pened within the first year of his attendance at Gray's Inn, 
 and in the twenty-second year of his age, though Cecil 
 still continued his application to the law, his mind appears 
 to have been more intently fixed on political advancement. 
 A very prudent and honorable alliance, which he this year 
 contracted by marriage, proved an effectual channel to fu- 
 ture preferment. Introduced by his father-in-law, sir John 
 Cheke, a man of great respectability and influence, to the 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 9. 
 
200 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 earl of Hertford, maternal uncle to the young prince Ed- 
 ward, and afterwards better known as duke of Somerset, 
 he was enabled to cultivate a connection which, in a few 
 years, elevated him to the highest offices.* 
 
 About the commencement of the reign of Edward VI. 
 he succeeded to his office of custos brevium, which brought 
 him a revenue of 240Z. a year, equal to more than lOOOZ. 
 in the present age. While this accession to his fortune 
 placed him in comparative affluence, and enabled him to 
 prosecute his plans more at ease, a new family connection, 
 which he formed about the same time, opened to him the 
 fairest access to royal patronage. His first wife having 
 died in the second year of their marriage, leaving him a 
 son, he now manied a daughter of sir Anthony Cook, the 
 director of the young king's studies, a gentleman who de- 
 rived from his situation an influence confirmed by his tal- 
 ents and virtue.f Few men have more directly accelerat- 
 ed their rise by matrimonial alliances than Cecil ; yet 
 such were the excellent qualities of his lady, that we 
 might consider his attachment to her the result rather of 
 personal affection, than of a view to political advancement. 
 
 His preferment under the new reign was not neglected 
 by Somerset, to whose friendship he was recommended 
 by various circumstances. While his talents and con- 
 summate application rendered him most useful to any one 
 placed at the head of affairs, his decided attachment to 
 the reformation gave him at this period a particular claim 
 to public trusts. The protector, eager to extend his pop- 
 ularity by accelerating those changes in religion, which 
 were now so generally desired, committed the departments 
 of government to the hands of such as were known to be 
 firm advocates of the reformation ; and, on this occasion, 
 he created Cecil master of the requests, — an appointment 
 of trust and distinction.! 
 
 In the latter part of the same year, the young statesman 
 attended his patron in the expedition against Scotland, 
 and was present at the battle of Pinkey, where the arms 
 of England proved so decisively victorious. Here he' very 
 narrowly escaped destruction : a friend, observing a cannon 
 directly pointed at him, pushed him out of its line, and, in 
 the very act, had his own arm unfortunately shattered by 
 the ball.§ Cecil, with his usual diligence, wrote an account 
 of this expedition. On returning home, he enjoyed various 
 advantages for prosecuting his views at court, and his 
 
 * Camden's Annal. Kliz. p. 774. 
 
 J Life of William Lord Burghlcy, p. 9. 
 Ibid, p.lO. $ Ibid. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. ^1 
 
 talents were well calculated to second his opportunities. 
 The insight into the characters of those around him, 
 which he derived from careful habits of observation, 
 enabled him to suit his behavior to persons and circum- 
 stances ; and the prudent reserve of his conversation, 
 joined to a perfect command of temper, preserved him 
 from those imprudences which so often bar the way to 
 promotion. He applied himself to gain the entire confi- 
 dence of Somerset; and having unrestrained access to the 
 young prince, both from the friendship of the protector, and 
 the situation of his father-in-law, he quickly acquired the 
 esteem and attachment of Edward. Somerset readily lis- 
 tened to the solicitations of his nephew in behalf of their 
 mutual favorite, and, in the following year, promoted Cecil 
 to the office of secretary of state.* 
 
 With the rapidity proportioned to his merits and his 
 address, Cecil had now attained one of the highest sta- 
 tions in the government; but his continuance on this 
 envied height depended so much on the conduct of others, 
 that the most consummate prudence on his part could 
 not render him secure. He, also, was drawn along in the 
 fell of his patron, which took place in little more than a 
 year. Somerset appears to have been one of those unfcff- 
 tunate men, whose errors proceed rather from weakness 
 than from vice, and whose good intentions are perpetual- 
 ly counteracted by a lamentable imprudence. Ambitious, 
 rather than qualified to govern, he had taken advan- 
 tage of his popularity to engross, in his own person, the 
 whole powers of the council of regency, to which Henry, 
 by his will, had intrusted the government ; and though he 
 showed no inclination to abuse his authority, yet he dis- 
 played his ascendancy with an offensive ostentation. A 
 profusion and magnificence, which might have served to 
 increase his influence, contributed, by his imprudent 
 management, to ruin the popularity which he so fondly 
 courted. While he too eagerly grasped at wealth to sup- 
 port his expenses, a fortune which he suddenly amassed 
 made his integrity suspected ; and, on his pulling down 
 several churches to procure more splendid materials for 
 erecting his palace, the act was reprobated as sacrilege, 
 and his impiety regarded with horror. Even the best in- 
 tended measures often became, in his unskilful hands, the 
 source of new calamities. By his rash and ill concerted 
 attempts to redress the grievances of the common people, 
 he not only provoked the nobility, but led the inflamed 
 minds of the people themselves into excesses, which he 
 
 * Lord Burghley's Diary. ^ 
 
202 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 was afterwards obliged to repress by severe military exe- 
 cutions. His popularity at length became so much re- 
 duced, that the other members of the council of regency, 
 whom he had stripped of their just authority, ventured to 
 attempt his overthrow ; and, by a well planned conspir- 
 acy, succeeded in committing him and his principal ad- 
 herents to the Tower. 
 
 The chief actor in this plot against Somerset was the 
 earl of Warwick, son to Dudley, the infamous tool of 
 Henry VH.'s extortions. Warwick inherited all the ava- 
 rice and faithlessness of his father ; and being possessed 
 of talents both for peace and war, he procured the patron- 
 age of Henry VHI., who could readily overlook hereditary 
 taint contracted in executing the mandates of tyranny. 
 By the favor of that monarch, Dudley was successively 
 raised to the rank of nobility, created an admiral, and ap- 
 pointed a member of the council of regency. Yet, in- 
 flamed with an ambition which no subordinate honors could 
 satiate, he looked on the minority of Edward as a favor- 
 able opportunity for engrossing the chief direction of the 
 government; and only delayed his attempts until the 
 increasing unpopularity of Somerset, to which he con- 
 tributed by every art, should ensure their accomplishment. 
 Succeeding, by the conspiracy which he had planned, to 
 the power, though not to the title, of the protector, he 
 surrounded the young king with his creatures, compelled 
 the council to submit to his dictates, and proceeded to 
 secure his ascendancy by new acquisitions of fortune 
 and rank. The last earl of Northumberland having 
 died without issue, and his brother having been attainted, 
 the title was now extinct, and the estate vested in the 
 crown. Warwick procured a grant of these large pos- 
 sessions, and made himself be created duke of North- 
 umberland. 
 
 The views of this new ruler did not long prove adverse 
 to Cecil ; for, after having been detained in the Tower 
 about three months, he was discharged, and again found 
 himself on the road to fortune. Northumberland, though 
 awed by the previous popularity of Somerset, entertained 
 little apprehension of his talents, and justly calculated 
 that his partisans might be weaned by new prospects, 
 from their attachment to so feeble a leader. In Cecil he 
 perceived the double advantage of influence over the young 
 king, and of an uninterrupted application to business, 
 while others wasted their time in cabals and intrigues. 
 Aware, also, that with Cecil ambition was a predominant 
 principle, while his prudence was such as to divert him 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 203 
 
 from all dangerous schemes, Northumberland might ex- 
 pect that this statesman would be faithful to those imme- 
 diately possessed of power, and would prefer the prospect 
 of present aggrandizement to the forlorn generosity of 
 adhering to the ruined fortunes of Somerset. But what- 
 ever were the views of Northumberland, Cecil was, by his 
 means, again appointed secretary of state ; and, receiving 
 the honor of knighthood, was admitted into the privy 
 council.* 
 
 This sudden release and subsequent elevation, by the 
 enemy of his old patron, have exposed the motives of Ce- 
 cil to suspicion. It has been alleged, that he had a secret 
 understanding with Northumberland even before the fall 
 of Somerset, and that his new preferment was the reward 
 of his treachery. But while no grounds are produced for 
 these accusations, the events which they are adduced to 
 explain seem otherwise sufficiently accounted for. In 
 joining Northumberland, Cecil abandoned none of his 
 principles ; for the same measures, both in regard to re- 
 ligion and politics, were now pursued, as under the pro- 
 tector : and if his conduct, in uniting with the decided 
 enemy of his patron, be thought little consistent with 
 honor or generosity, he only acted a part which Somerset 
 himself speedily imitated. Northumberland, having com- 
 pleted the degradation of his rival, by extorting from him 
 a public confession that he had been guilty of rashness, 
 folly, and indiscretion, accounted him now so little for- 
 midable, that he ventured to affect the praise of generosity, 
 by restoring him, not only to liberty, but to his seat in the 
 council. Somerset, els mean in adversity as ostentatious 
 in his better fortune, gladly accepted the boon ; and, after 
 all the indignities which he had undergone, consented to 
 give his daughter, lady Jane Seymour, in marriage to lord 
 Dudley, the son of his adversary. 
 
 But the ambition of Northumberland, and the indiscre- 
 tion of Somerset, soon converted their external appear- 
 ances of amity into more fatal dissensions. Although 
 the late protector, by his imprudence and want of spirit, 
 had become much degraded in the public estimation, yet, in 
 the day of his humiliation, the envy once felt towards him 
 subsided into a better feeling ; while the pride and ambi- 
 tion of his rival failed not to excite considerable odium. 
 His reviving popularity awakened the jealousy of North- 
 umberland, and his indiscretion, ere long, afforded a 
 pretext for his destruction. While the mortifications 
 which he had experienced could not fail to rankle in his 
 
 * King Edward's Journal. Stow's Annals. 
 
204 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 bosom, his crafty antagonist endeavored to goad him on to 
 some rash and criminal enterprise. The creatures of 
 Northumberland, who gained his confidence to precipitate 
 his ruin, first inflamed his resentment, and then caught 
 his hasty expressions of revenge ; they suggested to him 
 plans for insurrection, for assassinating Northumberland, 
 and then disclosed them as accusations against him. 
 When a sufiicient number of such charges had been 
 accumulated, Somerset was suddenly arrested ; tried 
 before a jury of peers, among whom were Northumber- 
 land and some of his princip^ enemies ; found guilty of 
 a capital crime ; and led, along with several of his firiends, 
 to the scaffold. 
 
 The part which Cecil acted, during these renewed 
 calamities of his early patron, seems more reconcilable 
 to prudence than to gratitude. It is said, that when 
 Somerset, some time before his arrest, sent for him, and 
 communicated to him his apprehensions, the secretary, 
 instead of suggesting any means to avoid his impending 
 danger, coldly replied, "That if he was innocent, he 
 might trust to that ; and if he were otherwise, he could 
 only pity him."* Pity, indeed, if he really felt it, was all 
 that he bestowed ; for it does not appear that he interposed, 
 either publicly or privately, to avert the destruction of his 
 former patron. And when we consider the character of 
 Somerset, we must allow that such an interposition would 
 have been as imprudent as it was likely to be unavailing. 
 The weakness and irresolution of this nobleman were 
 such, that no dependence could be placed on his executing 
 any scheme proposed for his safety ; and as he was sur- 
 rounded by spies who insinuated themselves into his con- 
 fidence, any beneficial intelligence communicated to him, 
 could scarcely have failed to reach his inveterate adver- 
 sary. In these circumstances, Cecil, by attempting the 
 preservation of Somerset, would have incurred an imminent 
 hazard of sharing in his destruction. Without benefiting 
 his patron, he would probably have lost his fortune, his 
 liberty, or his life ; leaving behind him only the praise of 
 unsuccessful generosity. 
 
 But whether we respect his prudence, or censure his 
 ingratitude on this occasion, we cannot but applaud his 
 conduct as a minister. While the court of England 
 teemed with cabals, which occupied the incessant atten- 
 tion of the other public men, the secretary was diligently 
 employed in executing his official duties, and in devising 
 schemes for the discharge of the public debt, or the im- 
 
 * Ivinf Edward's Journal. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 205 
 
 provement of commerce. There still remains a complete 
 statement of the king's dehts in the month of February, 
 1551, printed from a manuscript drawn up by Cecil, and 
 which must have comprehended the whole of the public 
 responsibility at that period, since neither the debts nor 
 the revenues of the king were as yet separated from those 
 of the nation.* 
 
 An important change, effected about this time in the 
 commerce of London, is also attributed to his counsels. 
 The carrying trade of the north of Europe, and of Eng- 
 land in particular, had hitherto been engrossed, almost 
 exclusively, by the merchants of the Hanse Towns. As 
 the foreign intercourse, conducted through this channel, 
 was found particularly productive to the revenue, it be- 
 came an object with our monarchs to promote it to the 
 utmost ; and with this view, Henry III. induced a com- 
 pany of these merchants to settle in England, by the lure 
 of a patent containing various privileges, exempting them 
 from the heavy duties paid by other aliens, and placing 
 them nearly on a footing with natives. This corporation was 
 called, from their place of residence, the merchants of the 
 Steel-yard, and effectually excluded all rivals from a com- 
 petition — other foreigners by their exclusive privileges, 
 and the English by their superior capital and skill. 
 They continued, accordingly, from the time of their settle- 
 ment, to engross nearly the Avhole continental trade of 
 England. Their commerce was advantageous to the na- 
 tives, as it opened a market to their produce, and induced 
 them to devote their labor and capital to agriculture and 
 manufactures ; but it was attended, in the eye of the pub- 
 lic, with various disadvantages. The gains of each indi- 
 vidual, who partook of this monopoly, were apparently 
 greater than those of the natives engaged in agriculture, 
 manufactures, or internal commerce ; and the collective 
 wealth of these foreign merchants was doubly conspicuous 
 from their residence in one spot. The jealousy of the 
 English was strongly excited. They complained that 
 the natives had but toil for their portion, while strangers 
 ran away with all the profit. Besides these imaginary 
 evils, this mode of carrying on trade was attended with 
 some real disadvantages. As it was chiefly conducted by 
 foreign vessels and foreign seamen, it afforded little ac- 
 cession to the maritime strength of the country ; a cir- 
 cumstance which, on the breaking out of a war, was felt 
 as a serious evil. Moreover, these merchants, on realizing 
 
 * Sec this paper in Strypo'a MemorialB of Edward VI., book ii. 
 VOL, 1. 18 
 
206 TiRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 a fortune, were apt to depart, and transfer to their OAvn 
 country that capital which, in the hands of natives, would 
 have improved the soil, and accelerated the industry of 
 this realm. The native merchants had often remonstrated 
 against the privileges of these foreigners ; but Cecil seems 
 to have been the first minister who eifectually attended 
 to their complaints. In consequence of his representations 
 to the council, the merchants of the Steel-yard were de- 
 prived of their charter, and subjected to the same impo- 
 sitions as other aliens.'^ 
 
 From this measure, as it was speedily followed by a large 
 increase of the shipping and foreign commerce of England, 
 Cecil has derived much reputation ; yet it is but too indi- 
 cative of the unacquaintance of the age with the principles 
 of trade. To abrogate the monopoly was a measure of 
 evident propriety, inasmuch as, like all monopolies, it 
 tended to limit the extent of commercial dealings, obliging 
 our countrymen to sell their commodities somewhat lower, 
 and to pay for foreign articles somewhat higher, than they 
 would have done had the competition been open. But in 
 what way ought this irregularity to have been remedied ? 
 Not merely by canceling the privileges of the Steel-yard 
 merchants, and subjecting them to the same extra duties 
 as other aliens, but by putting all merchants, whether na- 
 tives or foreign, on a footing of equality. Such a measure 
 would, it may be alleged, have retarded the rise of the 
 native merchants, inferior as they then were to foreigners 
 in capital and experience ; but in this, as in all other cases, 
 the course which industry and capital would of themselves 
 have taken, would have been the most advantageous to all 
 parties. Our merchants, confining themselves for a sea- 
 son to the inland trade, it would have expanded more 
 promptly, when our foreign trade absorbed little of our 
 pecuniary means ; and the latter also would have fallen 
 eventually into their hands, in consequence not of acta 
 of exclusion, but of the various advantages possessed by 
 natives over foreigners. 
 
 But had Cecil, or any other statesman in that age, 
 attempted to admit foreigners on the footing of natives, 
 he would have been represented by public clamor as ag- 
 gravating the evil which he professed to remedy. The 
 disadvantages under which Cecil labored are apparent in 
 the fate of another project, which he entertained for the 
 benefit of commerce. As the means of conveying mer- 
 cantile intelligence were in former times extremely de- 
 fective, and the regulations for levying the revenue were 
 
 * Hay ward's Life and Roign of Edward VI. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 207 
 
 very imperfect, it was usual to fix by law a staple or 
 regular market, for the chief commodities of a country, 
 and oblige all its inhabitants to convey them thither for 
 sale. Foreign merchants might thus reckon on a regular 
 market, and government had the best opportunity of levying 
 its imposts both on exports and imports. The staple of our 
 wool, and other chief articles of exportation, was fixed by an 
 early act of parliament in certain towns of England, but 
 was afterwards, in the reign of Edward III., wholly re- 
 moved to Calais, which at that period came into our pos- 
 session.* It was thence transferred to the flourishing but 
 distant port of Antwerp, where it still remained in the 
 reign of Edward VI. Cecil, perceiving the infinite dis- 
 advantages to which the exportation of England was sub- 
 jected by this regulation, proposed to abolish the staple 
 at Antwerp, and, as a far more desirable substitute, to 
 open two free ports in England ; one at Southampton, and 
 another at Hull. A paper is still extant, containing the 
 whole of this scheme clearly digested, exhibiting the ar- 
 guments in its favor, and refuting the objections by which 
 it might be opposed. But his colleagues in office were 
 too little advanced in commercial knowledge, and too 
 much engrossed with state intrigues, to perceive the ad- 
 vantages, or concur in the execution, of this project. 
 
 Cecil, in the mean time, did not neglect to cultivate the 
 attachment of the young king. That prince, whose dili- 
 gence, knowledge, and discretion, far exceeded his years, 
 seems to have been particularly delighted with a man so 
 eminently distinguished for these qualities. The secretary 
 was admitted into his imnost confidence, and was sup- 
 posed to have had no small share in the productions 
 ostensibly attributed to Edward. It is said that the prin- 
 cess Mary, on receiving a letter from her brother, exhort- 
 ing her to abjure the errors of popery, could not help 
 exclaiming, as she read it, " Ah ! Mr. Cecil's pen has taken 
 great pains here." Yet he never employed his ascendan- 
 cy over the young prince to procure extravagant grants, 
 after the example which had been set by Somerset, 
 Northumberland, and the other courtiers. Aware that a 
 fortune accumulated by such means always exposed the 
 possessor to envy, and might probably, in these unsettled 
 times, be the cause of his destruction, he preferred the 
 slower but more secure method of acquiring wealth by 
 the economical management of his regular salaries. By 
 his appointment as chancellor of the order of the garter, 
 his income now received an addition of a hundred marks a 
 
 * 27 Edward III. cap. vii. 
 
208 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 year ; and it appears that, after his father's decease, he 
 also held the post of master of the robes.* 
 
 Soon after this accession of honor and emolument, he 
 found himself exposed, by his official situation, to dangers 
 which all his prudence seemed insufficient to avert. The 
 young king, who, by the extraordinary virtues and accom- 
 plishments of his early youth, had taught the nation to 
 look forward with fond expectation to his more mature 
 years, began to exhibit indubitable symptoms of a rapid 
 decline. Amidst the alarm which this unexpected calam- 
 ity diffused, the ambitious Northumberland began to 
 meditate more daring plans for the confirmation of his 
 power, and even undertook to fix the succession to the 
 crown in his own family. Four females stood next in the 
 order of inheritance : Mary and Elizabeth, daughters of 
 Henry VIII. ; Mary, queen of Scots, grand-daughter of 
 Henry's eldest sister ; and the duchess of Suffolk, daugh- 
 ter of his second sister. The title of the last, although 
 evidently posterior to the others, Northumberland resolved 
 to enforce as preferable to the whole. He represented to 
 Edward, that his two half-sisters, Mary and Elizabeth, hav- 
 ing been declared illegitimate by act of parliament, were for 
 ever debarred from the succession ; that the queen of Scots, 
 having been passed over in his father's will, was also to be 
 considered as excluded ; and that, even had this objection 
 not existed, she ought to be prevented from reducing 
 England as well as Scotland to a province of France — an 
 event which,unless prevented by her exclusion,her marriage 
 with the dauphin rendered inevitable. Availing himself 
 of the king's attachment to the Protestant religion, he 
 depicted the dangers to which it would be exposed, if such 
 bigoted Catholics as either of the Marys ascended the 
 throne ; and as this objection did not apply to Edward's 
 favorite sister Elizabeth, who had been educated in the 
 principles of the reformation, he urged that it was impos- 
 sible to devise any pretext for excluding one sister with- 
 out excluding both. The prince, enfeebled by disease, 
 and surrounded by the creatures of Northumberland, was 
 at length overcome by his arguments and importunities, 
 and consented to fix the succession in the duchess of 
 Suffolk, who was willing to wave her title in favor of her 
 daughter, the lady Jane Grey. To complete this artful 
 scheme, Northumberland now procured the lady Jane in 
 marriage to his fourth son, lord Guilford Dudley, and en- 
 joyed the prospect of continuing to manage the affairs of 
 
 * See a letter to him from sir Edwurd Dymocke, in Lodge's UlustrationB 
 of British History, vol. i. p. 185. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 
 
 209 
 
 the kingdom at his pleasure, and of transmitting the king- 
 dom to his posterity. 
 
 For this alteration in the succession to the throne, 
 Northumberland obtained from the prince a patent, and 
 required that it should be signed by all the members of 
 the privy council ; a concession which the dread of his 
 vengeance extorted, even from those most averse to the 
 transaction. Cecil, among the rest, affixed liis name to 
 the patent; but whether from inclination or compulsion 
 has been disputed. While he is charged by some with 
 having been very active in the enterprises of the duke, 
 and with having assisted in drawing up the instrument for 
 altering the succession,* he himself, in a memorial which 
 he afterwards drew up in his justification, asserts that both 
 threats and promises were employed in vain to extort his 
 concurrence in the attempt ; that he refused to subscribe 
 the patent as a privy councillor ; and that he was at lengtli 
 only prevailed on, by the king's earnest entreaty, to write 
 his name as witness to the royal signature. The character 
 of Cecil leaves us, indeed, no room to suspect that he 
 entered into the views of Northumberland farther than his 
 own immediate safety required. He might have been 
 sufficiently willing, had a fair opportunity offisred, to set 
 aside Mary, the next heiress, from whose bigoted attach- 
 ment to popery he had nothing to hope, and every thing 
 to apprehend. But the reasons which might have led him 
 to oppose Mary would have induced him to support Eliza- 
 beth ; and he knew that the objections against the title of 
 lady Jane were too weighty to be removed by the patent 
 of a minor on his death bed. Although pajliament, with 
 whom the ultimate right of confirming or altering the 
 order of succession was acknowledged to reside, had 
 enabled Henry VHI. to dispose of the crown by will, yet, 
 as it had not empowered Edward to alter this disposition, 
 his patent could not confer a legal title till ratified by a 
 new act of the legislature. But amidst the general indig- 
 nation excited by the ambition and rapacity of Northum- 
 berland, was such a sanction likely to be obtained ? or, if 
 obtained, to ensure a general acquiescence ? Influenced 
 by such considerations, Cecil seems to have withdrawn 
 himself, as far as personal safety would allow, from an 
 enterprise originating in extravagant ambition, and likely 
 to terminate in the ruin of its abettors. It is said, that 
 when he found the project in agitation, he made such a 
 disposition of his effects as might give them the best 
 
 * Hayward, vol. ii. p. 237. 
 
 18* 
 
210 BHITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 chance of security, in the event of his being imprisoned or 
 obliged to quit the kingdom.* 
 
 On the death of Edward, Cecil found himself along with 
 the rest of the privy council, in the power of Northumber- 
 land ; but perceiving that total failure was soon to over- 
 take the illegal measures of that infatuated nobleman, he 
 resolutely refused to draw up the proclamation declaring 
 the title of lady Jane, or to write in its vindication ; and 
 the duke was not then in a situation to punish his disobe- 
 dience. Soon afterwards he found means, along with the 
 other privy councillors, to escape, and join Mary, who had 
 already been proclaimed queen, and who was pleased to 
 receive him very graciously. As he knew that, among 
 her partisans, he had many enemies, and that they had 
 already made some unsuccessful attempts to prejudice her 
 against him, he took advantage of her present favorable 
 disposition, to obtain a general pardon for whatever might 
 have been culpable in his past conduct ; and, with this 
 indemnity, he determined for the present to retire from 
 public affairs. Mary, acquainted with his sagacity and 
 great talents for business, was desirous to retain him in 
 her service, and tendered to him the appointment which 
 he had hitherto held ; but, as the change of his religion 
 was an indispensable condition, he could not be prevailed 
 on to accept these offers.f He was attached firmly and 
 conscientiously to the reformed church; but had his re- 
 ligious principles been less sincere, prudence might have 
 withheld him from embarking in the new government. 
 The bigotry of Mary, and the violence of her prime minis- 
 ter, bishop Gardiner, made it easy to foresee that the 
 restoration of the Catliolic religion would be attempted by 
 fire and sword ; and in the conflict between the zeal of 
 the court, and the resistance of the great majority of the 
 nation, it was impossible not to anticipate sanguinary 
 executions and dangerous convulsions. Cecil appears to 
 have adopted the resolution of keeping aloof from the 
 cabals of either party, and of cultivating the private friend- 
 ship of some of the new ministers, without giving any 
 sanction to their public measures. By this means he both 
 provided for his own safety, and was enabled to give occa- 
 sional support to the cause which he favored, without 
 exciting the jealousy and resentment of the government. 
 
 The court soon became divided into two factions, of 
 which the one urged the extirpation of heretics by fire 
 and sword, while the other, confiding in the ultimate 
 
 * Burnet's Hist, of Reform, vol. ii. p. 233. 
 i Life of W^iUiam Lord Bur«hley, i). 11. 
 
LORD ^UKLEIGH. 211 
 
 succe.ss of what they deemed the true religion, were of 
 opinion that these violent methods would only harden the 
 minds of men against it. Of these parties, the former was 
 ruled by bishop Gardiner, a man very indifferent about 
 religion, but naturally of a severe and violent temper, and 
 exasperated, by some injuries, against the Protestants; 
 while the moderate party was headed by cardinal Pole, a 
 man extremely devoted to his religious tenets, but too pol- 
 itic, if not too humane, to attempt their propagation by vio- 
 lence. Expecting the safety of the Protestants chiefly 
 from the ascendancy of the cardinal's counsels, Cecil 
 attached himself warmly to his interests. He had procur- 
 ed himself to be nominated one of the honorary mission 
 which had been sent by the court to invite over this prelate, 
 who resided in Italy at the time of Mary's accession ; and 
 he appears to have exerted himself successfully in acquir- 
 ing his confidence, since we find him, in the following 
 year, attending Pole on an embassy to the continent. 
 
 It soon, however, became necessary for Cecil to take 
 a more open part in defence of the Protestants. The par- 
 liament having been induced, by the intrigues of Gardiner, 
 and the bribes which he scattered among the members, to 
 revive the old sanguinary laws against heretics, the court 
 proceeded to carry them into execution with the most 
 unrelenting cruelty. Bishops, venerable for age and vir- 
 tue, were burnt in their own dioceses, and women are 
 said to have been thrown, in the agonies of childbirth, into 
 the midst of the flames.* Nothing could exceed the 
 horror of the cnielties perpetrated, or the frivolity of the 
 accusations on which the sufferers were condemned. Ar- 
 rested on mere suspicion, and without having made any 
 open profession of their creed, they were allowed only 
 the alternative of signing a list of religious articles present- 
 ed to them, or of being committed to the flames. All the 
 established forms of law were now abandoned, and the 
 prosecution of heretics intrusted by the crown to a set of 
 commissioners, whose unlimited powers to try and con- 
 demn any one on whom their suspicions might happen to 
 alight, took away the protection of innocence, and render- 
 ed the subjects the sport of caprice or malignity. 
 
 A general horror and indignation were the natural 
 consequences of these cruelties ; and in the new parlia- 
 ment, which was summoned to meet in 1555, the court 
 was made to feel the preponderancy of the Protestant 
 interest, and the futility of its sanguinary proceedings. 
 
 * Burnet, vol. iii. p. S64., from an account of these transactions written 
 or corrected by Cecil. 
 
212 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Notwithstanding the manifest danger of opposition, several 
 measures proposed by government were vehemently re- 
 sisted by the commons, and some wholly rejected. They 
 were with difficulty prevailed on to pass an act enabling 
 the queen to restore to the church merely those tenths, 
 first-fruits, and impropriations, which remained in the 
 hands of the crown ; and could be induced to grant a 
 portion only of the supplies demanded, though by no means 
 exorbitant. They threw out two bills relative to religion 
 — one for incapacitating such as were remiss in the prose- 
 cution of heretics from being justices of the peace, an 
 another for confiscating the estates of those who had 
 quitted the kingdom on the score of religion.* 
 
 In this opposition to the measures of the court, Cecil, 
 who had been chosen, without solicitation, one of the 
 members for Lincolnshire, bore a distinguished part ; and 
 the rejection of the bill for confiscating the estates of the 
 exiles is, in particular, attributed to the force of his elo- 
 quence. This manly conduct exposed him to considerable 
 danger, and he was once called before the privy council ; 
 but while the others involved in the same accusation with 
 him were sent to the Tower, he succeeded in obtaining a 
 hearing before he should be committed, and made such a 
 satisfactory defence as procured his immediate acquittal.f 
 The discretion of his conduct had, indeed, softened the 
 rancor of his religious opponents, and procured him many 
 friends among the Catholics, though convinced of his de- 
 cided attachment to the Protestant cause. The light in 
 which his opposition in this parliament appeared to him- 
 self, we learn from the diary which he has left behind 
 him: — "On the 21st of October," says he, "the parlia- 
 ment met at Westminster, and I discharged my duty, as 
 a member, with some danger ; for although I had been 
 elected against my inclination, yet I uttered my senti- 
 ments freely. I incurred much displeasure by this con- 
 duct ; but it was better to obey God than men." Having, 
 in the next parliament, been again chosen to represent the 
 county of Lincoln, he maintained the cause of the per- 
 secuted Protestants with the same discreet but undeviating 
 resolution. 
 
 While Cecil, by the reserve and moderation of his con- 
 duct, escaped the suspicion of the court, he wa.s privately 
 turning his views towards those changes in the govern- 
 ment, which he foresaw would soon take place. It was 
 every day more apparent that the princess Elizabeth would 
 
 * Burnet, vol. ii. p. 3Si2. 
 
 t Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 13. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 213 
 
 ascend the throne, and that her elevation would not be 
 long deferred. No prospect now remained that Mary 
 would leave offspring behind her, and the distempers of 
 her mind and body seemed rapidly to subdue her constitu- 
 tion. While a dropsy, which she had at first mistaken for 
 pregnancy, and aggravated by improper treatment, daily 
 impaired her strength, the bad success of all her schemes 
 for the restoration of popery, the general hatred excited 
 by her cruelties, the loss of Calais, which was attributed 
 to her negligence, the cold return which Philip made to 
 her ardent attachment, and the resolution which he had 
 formed of settling in Spain, and abandoning her for ever, 
 all preyed on her mind, and hastened her decay. Yet 
 though, i'n this state of things, Cecil had every inducement 
 to cultivate the favor of Elizabeth, it was only by incur- 
 ring the most imminent danger, that, surrounded as she 
 was by the spies of Mary, any communication could be 
 held with her. By uniting, however, dexterity and cir- 
 cumspection with a cool intrepidity, he found means to 
 open and maintain a private correspondence ; and often 
 conveyed to her such intelligence as enabled her to avoid 
 the snares of her suspicious and vindictive sister. 
 
 The interval of leisure, which he at present enjoyed, he 
 seems to have diligently spent in digesting plans for that 
 order of things which he anticipated in Sie new reign ; 
 and so well had he matured his ideas, that he was enabled 
 to present Elizabeth, on the very day of her accession, 
 with a memorial, pointing out those affairs which required 
 instant despatch. Mindful of the favors which she had re- 
 ceived in her adversity, and gratified to find a counsellor 
 already prepared to give activity to her government, 
 Elizabeth hastened to reward and secure his services. 
 He was the first person sworn of her privy council,, and 
 was at the same time created secretary of state.* 
 
 From this time forward, Cecil may be considered as the 
 first minister of Elizabeth, and the principal adviser of her 
 measures. As he knew that on her life depended both his 
 prospects and his safety, since Mary queen of Scots, the 
 next heir, was a Catholic, entirely directed by her bigoted 
 relatives of the house of Guise, his attachment was sin- 
 cere, and his exertions zealous. Elizabeth, possessed of 
 penetration to perceive, and judgment to appreciate, his 
 talents, rested with peculiar confidence on his fidelity and 
 tried abilities. Her passions, her prejudices, her caprice, 
 made her frequently act in opposition to his sentiments, 
 but none of her ministers or favorites was so generally 
 
 * Life of W^illiam Lord Burghley, p. 13. 
 
214 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 consulted; and his cool, deliberate, weighty reasonings, 
 often obtained, from her better judgment, concessions to 
 which her inclinations were extremely averse. As it 
 would be tedious to follow the labors of Cecil in an ad- 
 ministration of forty years, we must now relinquish the 
 narrative form, and attempt an outline of his policy, under 
 a few general heads, taking as our text the grand ques- 
 tions which engaged the solicitude of the queen and her 
 minister in that age of dissension and danger. This will 
 lead us to examine his policy in regard to religion ; his 
 civil policy or administration of home affairs ; his foreign 
 policy, — ^towards the Low Countries, Spain, France, Scot- 
 land, and Mary queen of Scots. 
 
 The measures relative to religion were those which 
 most incessantly harassed him during his administration, 
 and which required the greatest caution and management, 
 because his sentiments corresponded ill with the inclina- 
 tions of his sovereign. At the commencement of the reign 
 of Edward VI., the more gross absurdities of the Romish 
 church, which his father had forcibly retained, were abol- 
 ished ; and a more rational worship, both in substance and 
 form, established by law. Yet, although many further 
 changes were made in the course of this reign, by arch- 
 bishop Cranmer and the other heads of the church, the 
 reformation was still considered incomplete. King Ed- 
 ward, in his diary, laments that he was prevented, by the 
 opposition of the prejudiced, from restoring the primitive 
 discipline according to his heart's desire ; and in the pref- 
 ace tp one of the service-books, published by authority, 
 the framers observed, " that they had gone as far as they 
 could in reforming the church, considering the times they 
 lived in, and hoped that they who came after them would, 
 as they might, do more."* The lamented death of Edward 
 put a period, for the time, to the hopes of further improve- 
 ment. Mary was no sooner seated on the throne, than slie 
 restored the faith and forms of the Catholic church, ac- 
 knowledged the supremacy of the pope, reconciled her 
 dominions to the see of Rome, and began, by the most 
 cruel exertions of her authority, to replunge the people 
 into that superstition and ignorance from which they had 
 just emerged. It was to the accession of Elizabeth, who 
 was known to be attached to the reformed religion, that 
 the Protestants now looked forward as the period of their 
 deliverance and triumph ; and Cecil, aware that no object 
 could be more important than to quiet the minds of men in 
 
 * Neal's Hist, of the Puritans, vol. i. p. 73. edit. 1793. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 215 
 
 this concern, had urged it upon that princess as the first 
 of her cares. 
 
 But the views of the queen and her minister, with re- 
 gard to the extent of the projected reformation, were far 
 from coinciding. Cecil had learnt, from recent events 
 both in his own and in foreign countries, how many 
 dangers and convulsions might be avoided in religious 
 changes, if government wisely took the lead. He had 
 also observed the channel towards which the current of 
 public opinion was strongly directed. The great major- 
 ity of the nation had seconded Edward and his council in 
 their successive measures in favor of the reformed worship, 
 and looked forward to further changes, when the successor 
 of that prince unfortunately attempted to tear up his work 
 from the foundation. But the extravagant cruelties of 
 Mary, although they intimidated many into an apparent 
 submission, aggravated the general detestation of the 
 popish religion. The people, exasperated to behold their 
 countrymen groaning under the torture, or expiring in the 
 flames, now looked with horror, not only on the tenets, but 
 on the rites, the ceremonies, the appendages, of a sangui- 
 nary church. Many Englishmen who had sought refuge in 
 exile, having observed the tranquil and flourishing condi- 
 tion of states which had entirely renounced both the tenets 
 and rites of the Romish church, hastened, on the accession 
 of Elizabeth, to apprise their countrymen of those happy 
 effects, and incite them to similar changes. To this state 
 of public sentiment Cecil might be desirous to accommodate 
 the ecclesiastical establishment of England. The favorite, 
 and confidential adviser of Edward, he seems to have 
 deeply imbibed the reforming spirit of that reign ; and we 
 find him acting as one of the commissioners who prepared 
 a purer code of canon laws, which the death of the young 
 monarch prevented from receiving the royal sanction. 
 
 But for a thorough reformation the mind of Elizabeth 
 was by no means prepared. The superstitious tenets 
 whicii her father thought proper to retain had partly insin- 
 uated themselves into her belief; Avhile her imagination 
 had become still more impressed with the mysterious 
 ceremonies and splendid array of the Catholic worship. She 
 was therefore inclined to draw from the more advanced 
 measures of her brother's reign, and would have been con- 
 tent with a very few changes in doctrine and form. Yet 
 Cecil had very powerful arguments to induce her con- 
 currence with his plans. He could represent that the voice 
 of the nation was loudly in favor of the reformation ; tliat 
 the ill success of her sister, and the odium which slie had 
 
216 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 incurred, proved the danger of attempting to maintain the 
 worship of Rome ; that the Protestants, both at home and 
 abroad, looked up to her as their only hope, and would 
 prove the firmest supporters of her government ; that the 
 Catholics, on the other hand, acknowledged Mary queen 
 of Scots as the legitimate heiress of the throne, and were 
 ready to make the most dangerous attempts in support of 
 her title ; that the more completely the minds of her sub- 
 jects became alienated from the doctrines and rites of the 
 Roman church, the more decidedly they would be united 
 against the claims of her rival ; and that it was impossible 
 to be reconciled to Rome, without giving up that suprem- 
 acy in religious matters which her father had accounted 
 among his proudest titles.* 
 
 By such considerations, Cecil obtained the consent of 
 Elizabeth to the restoration of the Protestant worship ; but 
 the plan which he first laid before the privy council, and 
 afterwards before parliament, for the new establishment, 
 did not, in its provisions, go beyond that which had been 
 adopted at the commencement of Edward VI.'s reign.f 
 Yet even to the moderate retrenchments thus made in the 
 Catholic worship, the queen was with difficulty reconciled ; 
 and she went so far as to declare, that she would not have 
 passed the act for these changes, had it not contained one 
 saving clause which entitled her " to ordain and publish 
 such further ceremonies and rules as may be for the ad- 
 vancement of God's glory, and edifying his church, and the 
 reverence of Christ's holy mysteries and sacraments."| 
 
 * When we look into the arguments which Camden and Burnet have, 
 on this occasion, put into the mouth of Cecil, we shall perceive that these 
 historians have framed his discourse rather from his known principles and 
 the circumstances of the times, than from any real documents. Yet it must 
 be acknowledged, that the discourses which they attribute to him possess a 
 verisimilitude that does not pass the license usually permitted to historians. 
 But Mr. Hume, although he expressly refers to these writers as his author- 
 ities, not only new-models and varies their account, but even makes Cecil 
 speak like a fellow sceptic of the eighteenth century. According to him, 
 the minister assures his sovereign that she may safely venture on any ref- 
 ormation she chooses, for " the nation had of late been so much accustomed 
 to these revolutions, that men had lost all idea of truth and falsehood on 
 such subjects." This representation, of which no trace is to be found in 
 Camden or Burnet, is the more objectionable, that it is inconsistent, not only 
 with verisimilitude, but with fact. That Cecil, so distinguished as a zealous 
 Protestant, should have spoken thus lightly of religious tenets, is as incred- 
 ible as that Elizabeth, who, on several occasions, was ready to sacrifice her 
 interests to her bigotry, should listen to sucii a discourse : and still more 
 absu^-d is it to suppose that a minister so sagacious, and a princess so pene- 
 trating, should have so egregiously mistaken the state of men's minds, as to 
 believe thorn wholly indiHerent to those very changes to which so many bad 
 signalized their attachment at the stake, and all the bishops affirmed their 
 aversion by a resignation of their benefices. The ferment of religious 
 opinions was, perhaps, never greater than at that very period. 
 
 J Bacon's Works, vol. iv. p. 374. edit. 1740. 
 Neal's Hist, of the Puritans, vol. i. p. J30. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 217 
 
 But although Cecil exerted himself strenuously to pro- 
 cure reformation in the church, his cool and temperate 
 mind was little moved by religious animosities, and was 
 willing to tolerate the Catholics, provided they engaged in 
 no dangerous attempts against the state. The maxims on 
 which Elizabeth and her ministers professed to found their 
 conduct in matters of religion were, first, " that consciences 
 are not to be forced, but to be won and reduced by the 
 force of truth, by the aid of time, and the use of all good 
 means of instruction and persuasion ;" and, secondly, " that 
 causes of conscience, when they exceed their bounds, 
 and prove to be matter of faction, lose their nature ; and 
 that sovereign princes ought distinctly to punish the prac- 
 tice or contempt, though colored with the pretences of 
 conscience and religion."* The first of these maxims cor- 
 responded entirely with the moderation of Cecil ; and the 
 second, although very capable of interpretations, accord- 
 ing to the mildness or violence of the expounders, was, in 
 his hands, a sufficiently safe principle. While the Catho- 
 lics, enraged at the sagacity with which he detected, and 
 the vigor with which he counteracted, all their enterprises, 
 charged him loudly with cruelty towards them, they still 
 were unable to produce any instance in which his severity 
 exceeded what the immediate security of government 
 appeared to demand.f 
 
 The queen still gave strong indications of an attachment 
 to the forms of the old religion. Although prevailed on to 
 command the more obnoxious monuments of idolatry to be 
 removed from the churches ; yet the service in her own 
 chapel was still attended with such ceremonies and splen- 
 dor, that foreigners could distinguish it from the Roman 
 only by its being performed in English. Here the choris- 
 ters appeared in their surplices, and the priests in their 
 copes : the altar, in the midst of which stood a massy cru- 
 cifix of silver, was furnished with rich plate, and two gilt 
 
 * Bacon's Works, vol. iv. p. 360. Also Knollys's Letter to Cretoy, ia 
 Burnet'3 History of the Reformation. 
 
 t Bacon, vol. iv. p. 361,362. In a letter, in which he rcplicB to some ap- 
 plications to mitigate his rigors against the papists, Burleigh affirms that 
 these rigors were exaggerated ; that thoy amounted only to very gentle 
 penalties, and were employed solely against the known and active enemies 
 of government. " In very truth," says he, " whereof I know not to the 
 contrary, there is no Catholic persecuted to the danger of life here, hut such 
 as profess themselves, by obedience to the pope, to be no subjects to the 
 queen. And although their outward pretence be, to be sent from .the 
 seminaries to convert people to their religion, yet, without reconciling of 
 them from their obedience to the queen, thoy never give them absolutiou. 
 Such in our realm as refuse to come toour churches, and yet do not discover 
 their obedience to the queen, be taxed with fines, according to the law, 
 without danger of their lives."— iJircA'* Memoirs, vol. i. p. 94. 
 VOL.1. 19 
 
218 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 candlesticks with lighted candles : the service on solemn 
 festivals was sung not only with the sound of organs, but 
 of cornets, sackbuts, and other musical instruments : and, 
 that nothing might be wanting to its ancient solemnity, 
 the ceremonies observed by the knights of the garter in 
 their adoration towards the altar, which had been abolish- 
 ed by king Edward, and revived by queen Mary, were 
 now retained.* As Elizabeth advanced in years, these 
 propensities seem gradually to have increased ; for, though 
 she was obliged to guard against the Catholics as her in- 
 veterate enemies, though she had been excommunicated 
 by the pope, and lived in perpetual danger from the plots, 
 insurrections, and invasions of his partisans, yet Cecil 
 found considerable difficulty in dissuading her from bring- 
 ing the state of the church nearer the old religion. It 
 was only by a firm and spirited interposition, that he could 
 prevent her from absolutely prohibiting the marriage of 
 the clergy ; and she is said to have often repented that she 
 had gone so far in her concessions.! When the dean of 
 St. Paul's, in a sermon preached before her, had spoken 
 with some disapprobation of the sign of the cross, she 
 called aloud to him from her closet, to desist from that un- 
 godly digression, and return to his text. On another occa- 
 sion, when one of her chaplains had preached a sermon in 
 defence of the real presence, which he would scarcely 
 have ventured to do had not her sentiments been well 
 understood, she openly gave him thanks for his pains and 
 piety .| The Protestants, strongly united as they were to 
 her by every tie of interest, could not without some mur- 
 murs and indignation, observe her predilection for the 
 rites of their opponents. 
 
 But while Cecil found Elizabeth ready to show the Catho- 
 lics every indulgence which tlie public safety could admit, 
 all his influence and entreaties were insufficient to procure 
 a similar lenity for another class of her subjects. A con- 
 siderable portion of the people eagerly desired a more 
 thorough reformation than had been accomplished under 
 king Edward ; and the Protestants soon became divided 
 into those who conformed, and those who would not con- 
 form, to the institutions of Elizabeth. Yet, since the non- 
 conformists, or puritans (for so they were now called, 
 from affecting a superior purity in worship and morals), 
 differed from the adherents of the church in no point of 
 faith, but merely in certain external forms, a few conces- 
 sions on either side might have prevented the disunion. 
 
 * NeHl, vol. i. p. 144. t Ibid. p. 158. 
 
 I Warner's Ecclcsiast. Hist. vol. ii. p. 427. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 219 
 
 But this was not the age of mutual forbearance, and the 
 party of the established church were ill prepared for limit- 
 ations to the interference of government. They did not 
 see that, while it was the duty of government to pro- 
 vide a competent number of well qualified religious 
 teachers, and to draw up regulations for their direction in 
 respect both to the substance and the mode of their 
 instructions, it was equally its duty to go no farther, 
 and to beware of turning their proposed benefits into 
 oppression, by forcing obnoxious opinions and forms 
 on the public. Elizabeth, holding very different senti- 
 ments from these, not only prescribed peculiar forms 
 for the religious worship of her people, but was determin- 
 ed that they should use no other. To these the puritans ob- 
 jected, because they had been previously employed in the 
 popish worship as mystical symbols, and were associated 
 in the minds of the people with the grossest superstition. 
 No worldly consideration would induce them to as- 
 sume what they accounted appendages of idolatry ; while 
 the queen, on her part, prepared to employ all her authori- 
 ty in support of the prescribed forms. 
 
 Finding that her council, the ablest and wisest council 
 that England ever saw, were decidedly averse to measures 
 which threatened to involve the nation in dangerous dis- 
 sensions, she resolved to eflfect her purpose by means of 
 some of the bishops, particularly archbishop Parker, who 
 readily and zealously entered into her views.* The sever- 
 ities to which these men now proceeded were only sur- 
 passed by the frivolity of their ostensible cause. A fer- 
 vent attachment to the use of surplices, corner-caps, tip- 
 pets, the cross in baptism, and the ring in marriage, were, 
 in their eyes, the distinguishing characteristics of a Chris- 
 tian ; and any dislike to these forms was accounted a suffi- 
 cient crime to subject the most learned and pious clergyman 
 to imprisonment and exile ; or, as a mitigated punishment, 
 to be turned out of his living, and consigned with his 
 family to indigence. The most pernicious effects ne- 
 cessarily flowed from these severities : while the church 
 was weakened by the loss of many able divines, and degrad- 
 ed by the introduction of men who could barely read the 
 prayer-book and write their own names, the people began 
 every where to collect around their expelled teachers, and 
 to form conventicles apart from the establishment. Yet 
 these mischievous consequences only set the queen and 
 her bishops on framing new statutes to reach the re- 
 fractory ; and at length even the laity were brought with- 
 
 * Neal, vol. i. p. 192. 
 
220 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 in their grasp, by an act which provided that non-attend- 
 ance at public worship in the parish churches should be 
 punished with imprisonment, banishment, and, if the exile 
 returned, with death. An arbitrary commission was ap- 
 pointed, with full powers to bring all religious offenders to 
 punishment ; and as any resistance to the injunctions of 
 the queen, as supreme head of the church, was at length 
 construed into sedition and treason, many subjects of un- 
 questioned loyalty were imprisoned, banished, and brought 
 to ruin. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the imperious demeanor which 
 some of the prelates, confident of royal support, now as- 
 sumed. Archbishop Parker having, from a wish to display 
 his authority, commanded one of his suffragans to suppress 
 certain meetings which the clergy of the same neighbor- 
 hood were accustomed to hold for their mutual improve- 
 ment, the privy council, who looked on these exercises 
 as extremely beneficial, since they greatly contributed to 
 diffuse knowledge, at a period when the clergy in general 
 were ill instructed, countermanded this injunction of the pri- 
 mate, and ordered that these meetings should receive every 
 encouragement. The prelate, however, having repre- 
 sented to the queen the danger to which her supremacy 
 would be exposed, if he, her vicegerent, should thus be 
 counteracted, readily procured her direct interference in 
 support of his authority ; and the council had the inortifica- 
 tion to find the exercises, as they were called, suppressed 
 not only in one diocese, but throughout the kingdom.* 
 At one time, we find the whole council soliciting the 
 haughty primate in vain, in behalf of clergymen distin- 
 guished for learning and piety, whom he had, on some 
 frivolous pretext, expelled from their benefices ;f at anoth- 
 er, we find them, with as little effect, threatening him with 
 the penalties of the law, which be had greatly exceeded 
 in his severities.! At last, archbishop Parker rendered 
 himself so obnoxious, that the queen found it prudent 
 to allay the popular clamor by stopping short his career ; 
 but this produced very little alteration in the mind of 
 Elizabeth ; for when his successor, the moderate Grindal, 
 refused to enforce some of her injunctions, she did not 
 hesitate, by an extraordinary exertion of her supremacy, 
 to suspend him from liis functions, and meditated even to 
 deprive him altogether. Whitgift, the succeeding primate, 
 taught by this example, proceeded to severities which 
 
 * Life of Parker, p. 461. t Neil, vol. i. p. 373. 
 
 X Letter of the Lords of Council, ibid. p. 383. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 221 
 
 Paxker would not have ventured to exercise, nor the 
 queen, in the earlier part of lier reign, have countenanced. 
 
 The eflforts of Cecil, in an individual capacity, were 
 equally unavailing in these days of intolerance. At first, 
 his high office and known influence with the queen over- 
 awed the more violent prelates, and he was enabled to 
 deliver several persons from their resentment. But when 
 it became known tliat the prejudices of her majesty were 
 too powerful to be counteracted by the united voice of 
 her council, liis remonstrances, his threats, his entreaties, 
 in favor of the oppressed nonconformists, were treated with 
 equal neglect. The university of Cambridge, of which 
 he was chancellor, had, much to their honor, made a bold 
 and manly stand in support of freedom of opinion, and he 
 had succeeded in maintaining their privileges against the 
 attempts of several of the bishops ;* but when that learn- 
 ed body ventured to declare openly against corner-caps 
 and surplices, the indignation of these prelates and tlie 
 queen became so implacable, that he was obliged to aban- 
 don them to the rigorous injunctions of tlieir adversariee.f 
 Even after he had attained the highest office in tlie state, 
 his solicitations in behalf of persecuted individuals, in 
 whom he was interested, were without effect ;t and his own 
 domestic chaplain, supported by the benchers of the Temple, 
 whose lecturer he also was, could not escape the rigor of 
 the government party.§ 
 
 Cecil as well as the other ministers, were sometimes 
 put on the ungrateful task of acting as the organs of the 
 queen's mandates against the nonconformists. Perhaps 
 it might have been more manly to have refused this sub- 
 mission, and have renounced his office rather than his 
 independence ; but he knew, that, out of office, he 
 could yield no protection whatever to the cause which 
 he favored ; it was his policy to temporize rather than 
 violently resist; and to procure, by temperate and per- 
 severing remonstrances, such partial changes in the meas- 
 ures which he disapproved, as would not have been grant- 
 ed to an avowed and resolute opposition. Yet, at times, 
 the impolitic severities of the prelates induced him to as- 
 sume a tone of censure and authority, in which he never 
 indulged unless his indignation was greatly roused. Arch- 
 bishop Whitgift having drawn up a long list of captious 
 articles, which the clergy were either to answer to his 
 satisfaction, or to be suspended, and having proceeded, by 
 
 * Letter of the Lords of Council, Neal, voL i. p. 195. 
 
 t Ibid. 196. t Ibid. 252, 306. 319. 381. &c. $ Ibid. 390. 
 
 19 
 
2^ BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 means of it, to harass those who were obnoxious to him, 
 Cecil attempted to stop his proceedings by the following 
 letter :— 
 
 " It may please your grace, 
 " I am sorry to trouble you so ofl as I do, but I am more 
 troubled myself, not only with many private petitions of 
 sundry ministers, recommended for persons of credit, and 
 peaceable in their ministry, who are greatly troubled by 
 your grace and your colleagues in commission ; but I am 
 also daily charged, by counsellors and public persons, with 
 neglect of my duty, in not staying your grace's vehement 
 proceedings against ministers, whereby papists are great- 
 ly encouraged, and the queen's safety endangered, I 
 have read over your twenty-four articles, found in a Ro- 
 mish style, of great length and curiosity, to examine all 
 manner of ministers in this time, without distinction of 
 persons, to be executed ex officio mero. And I find them 
 80 curiously penned, so full of branches and circumstances, 
 that I think the inquisition of Spain used not so many 
 questions to comprehend and to trap their priests. I know 
 you canonists can defend these with all their particles; 
 but surely, under correction, this judicial and canonical 
 sifting poor ministers is not to edify or reform. And, in 
 charity, I think they ought not to answer all these nice 
 points, except they were notorious papists or heretics. I 
 write with the testimony of a good conscience. I desire 
 the peace and unity of the church. I favor no sensual and 
 wilful recusant ; but I conclude, according to my simple 
 judgment, this kind of proceeding is too much savoring of 
 the Romish inquisition, and is a decree rather to seek for 
 offenders than to reform any. It is not charitable to send 
 poor ministers to your common register, to answer upon so 
 many articles at one instant, without a copy of the articles 
 or their answers. I pray your grace bear with this one 
 (perchance) fault, that I have willed the ministers not to 
 answer these articles except their consciences may suffer 
 them." 
 
 To this spirited letter the archbishop returned an elabo- 
 rate reply, in which he defended his proceedings ; and 
 Cecil, perceiving that it was in vain to remonstrate, only 
 replied, "that, after reading his grace's long answer, he 
 was not satisfied in the point of seeking, by examination, 
 to have ministers accuse themselves, and then punish them 
 for their own confessions ; that he would not call his pro- 
 ceedings captious, but they were scarcely charitable." 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 223 
 
 Whitgifl rejoined by sending him other papers in his 
 own justification, and endeavored to convince him, that if 
 archbishops and bishops should be driven to use proofs hu 
 witnesses only, the execution of the law would be partial, 
 their charges in procuring and producing witnesses in- 
 tolerable, and their proceedings altogether too slow and 
 circumscribed for extinguishing the sectaries.* 
 
 Cecil was by no means satisfied with these reasonings 
 of the prelate, and therefore united with the rest of the 
 council in sending him a still stronger remonstrance, in 
 which they complained that the most diligent, learned, and 
 zealous pastors were deprived of their livings for a few 
 points respecting unimportant ceremonies ; while the most 
 Ignorant and notoriously profligate characters were allow- 
 ed to retain their cures unmolested, provided they submitted 
 their consciences without reserve to their superiors. That 
 the primate might not plead ignorance of the alleged 
 abuses, the council sent with this letter a list of names, in 
 three columns, — one of learned and worthy ministers de- 
 prived, a second of ignorant and vicious persons continued, 
 and a third of pluralists and non-residents. But these re- 
 monstrances, as they were not enforced by the ann of 
 power, served only to exasperate the archbishop ; and 
 the same violent measures continued to be pursued with 
 unremitting activity. 
 
 The ministers of Elizabeth, besides their unwillingness 
 to occasion internal dissensions, seem to have feared that 
 the exorbitant power intrusted to the superior clergy, for 
 enforcing their forms, might give the Protestants the un- 
 due ascendency possessed by the church of Rome. Sir 
 Francis Knollys, one of the ministers, in a letter to his 
 colleague Cecil, calls some of Whitgift's ordinances arti- 
 cles of inquisition, highly prejudicial to the royal preroga- 
 tive.\ And, indeed, there seemed to be reasonable 
 grounds for alarm ; since some of the clergy began, after 
 the example of the church of Rome, to give hints of a di- 
 vine right, which, by a wonderful concatenation, had been 
 transmitted to them from the very days of the apostles.^ 
 On the other hand, it was easy to foresee that the puritans, 
 pushed to extremities, would begin to question that power 
 from which their hardships proceeded ; and, becoming 
 
 * Strypo'a Life of Whitgift, p. 160. 
 
 t Neal, vol. i. p. 444. 
 
 I These ideas were now promulgated by Bancroft ; but Cranmer had so 
 fully considered himself as an officer acting" by the king's authority, and was 
 so well convinced that his episcopal power ended, like that of the other 
 officers, with the life of the monarch who conferred it, that, on the death 
 of Henry VIIL he refused to exercise any jurisdiction, until he received a 
 new commission from king Edward. 
 
234 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 more exasperated against the church, would begin to asso- 
 ciate with their earnest desire for ecclesiastical reforma- 
 tion an expectation of changes in the government which 
 supported it. But the peculiar circumstances of the times 
 prevented these dispositions, however evident, from lead- 
 ing, during Elizabeth's reign, to any dangerous conse- 
 quences. The puritans, as well as all other Protestants, 
 fondly looked on her as their refuge against the intolerable 
 cruelty of the Catholics ; and, even when they felt them- 
 selves to be the objects of her aversion, they, as well as their 
 brethren in Scotland, entered into associations for the de- 
 fence of her person and government. 
 
 In civil transactions, the moderate and cautious maxims 
 of Cecil had a far more conspicuous ascendant. Consid- 
 ering as the happiest condition of a nation a state of un- 
 broken peace, in which the people might proceed in the 
 improvement of their circumstances by contented industry, 
 he was the strenuous advocate of every moderate and 
 conciliatory measure. Meriting, above almost all states- 
 men, the character of a safe politician, his principles of 
 government were salutary at all times, but peculiarly for- 
 tunate in the dangerous and delicate period when he lived. 
 
 From the commencement of his administration under 
 Elizabeth, he proceeded, as he had done during the short 
 reign of Edv^ard, in a gradual amelioration of the internal 
 state of the country. One of his first measures was to 
 reinstate the coin of the realm, which had been so much 
 debased during the preceding reigns as to prove extremely 
 prejudicial to trade, both at home and abroad. While the 
 shilling, which, in the first years of Henry VIII., contained 
 118 grains of fine silver, was, in the latter part of his reign, 
 reduced to forty, and, in the reign of Edward, to twenty ; 
 the money price of every thing was, by this means, both 
 exorbitantly increased, and rendered extremely uncertain.* 
 In transactions with foreign merchants, and even among 
 the natives themselves, the difference between the real 
 and nominal value of the coin was a source of endless 
 disputes ; and the popular discontents which ensued were 
 both loud and general. Some attempts had been made to 
 remedy the evil ; but proving abortive, from the scarcity 
 of bullion, and the want of perseverance on the part of 
 government, the prospect of amendment was now deemed 
 almost hopeless. Cecil, however, was strongly impressed 
 with the great advantages which would result from a res- 
 toration of the coin ; and having been convinced, from a 
 mature consideration which he had given to the subject, 
 
 * Lowiides?8 Extract from tlio Mint, in Locke's BsBay on Coin, p. 69 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 225 
 
 even in the reign of Edward, that the preceding failures 
 were the result of mismanagement, he prevailed on Eliza- 
 beth to commence the undertaking without delay, and 
 gradually, but resolutely, to proceed as her means would 
 allow. To render the people more eager to bring the 
 base money into the mint, its current value was reduced 
 by proclamation ; and new gold and silver coin, of the 
 standard weight and value, being issued in exchange, the 
 money of England, from an excessive debasement, soon 
 became tlie heaviest and finest in Europe. 
 
 But the measures which the state of public affairs 
 obliged him to pursue were not always so evidently bene- 
 ficial, or so generally acceptable. Aware, however, that 
 the nation, if convinced that the plans of government 
 were for their advantage, would concur in them far more 
 certainly than from a dread of authority, he was anxious 
 to secure the public opinion, and procure obedience rather 
 by persuasion than command. He advised Elizabeth, as 
 the first act of her reign, to summon a parliament. Here 
 he introduced his proposition for religious reformation, 
 and called on the Catholics to reply freely to the argu- 
 ments which he advanced. In the succeeding period of 
 the reign, however, the bold doctrines of the puritans, and 
 the queen's exceeding aversion to any discussion which 
 might touch her prerogative, prevented him from employ- 
 ing this channel for the defence of his measures ; yet he 
 seems occasionally to have adopted the practice of bring- 
 ing political transactions before parliament. There is 
 still preserved a very clear exposition of the designs of 
 Philip II. of Spain, which he delivered on one occasion in 
 the house of lords, and the heads of which he afterwards 
 transmitted to the speaker, for the information of the com- 
 mons.* 
 
 In the press he found a more constant and effectuaJ 
 method of influencing public opinion. As he never un- 
 dertook any political measure without due deliberation, 
 he concluded that the same reasons which weighed with 
 him would weigh with the nation at large. Though in- 
 volved in a vast maze of public business, he did not fail to 
 bestow a portion of his time in justifying to the world 
 both the measures of his government, and his own private 
 conduct. Among the salutary effects of his political writ- 
 ings, it is mentioned that they contributed much to re- 
 tain the people in their allegiance during the dangerous 
 insurrections which succeeded Norfolk's first conspiracy. 
 There are still extant several of his pieces on that occa- 
 
 * Strype'3 Annals, vol. iv. p. 107. 
 
22t) BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 8ion, in which he paints the folly and danger of the rebels, 
 the profligate characters of their ringleaders, and the mis- 
 eries which must inevitably overtake them in the event of 
 defeat.* To the many defamatory libels which the Jesuits 
 published, during his administration, against Elizabeth 
 and her ministers, it was his constant practice to publish 
 replies. He knew too well the impression made by un- 
 contradicted calumnies, to let them pass unexposed. Si- 
 lent contempt, he perceived, might be represented as 
 proceeding from conscious guilt; and to suppress the 
 propagation of slanders by force, would seem to betray 
 both an inability to refute them, and a dread of their 
 effects. He knew that better arguments could always be 
 found in support of truth than of falsehood, and that it 
 was the fault of the reasoner if the cause -of right did not 
 appear to the greatest advantage. The great facility of 
 composition, which he had acquired in the earlier period 
 of his life, proved of infinite importance to him in these 
 voluminous apologies.f 
 
 To diffuse information among the people, and render 
 them capable of comprehending sound reasoning on pub- 
 lic business, was a favorite object with Cecil. In contra- 
 diction to the absurd idea, that ignorance is the parent of 
 good order, that men will prove the best subjects when 
 Siey bestow no thought on their social relations, it was 
 the maxim of this sagacious statesman, " that where the 
 people were well taught, the king had ever good obedi- 
 ence of his subjects.''^ Considering the church as the 
 grand channel for the moral as well as religious instruc- 
 tion of the people, he earnestly labored to fill every eccle- 
 siastical office with able, learned, and active teachers. 
 To impress these sentiments on his sovereign, as well as 
 his political colleagues, he warned them that " where 
 there wanted a good ministry, there were ever bad people ; 
 for they that knew not how to serve God would never 
 obey the king."§ 
 
 Fortunate had it been for the fame of Cecil, if his ac- 
 commodating policy, his desire to gratify the queen without 
 incensing the people, could always have been carried into 
 effect by means equally praise-worthy. But Elizabeth's 
 passion for uncontrolled power sometimes led him into 
 measures, or at least into schemes, which would seem to 
 indicate that his regard to public opinion arose rather 
 from the love of tranquillity, than from concern for the lib- 
 
 * See Camden, Strype, ice. 
 
 t Many of them are published in Strype, and many still remain in man 
 uacript. 
 X Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 55. $ Ibid. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 297 
 
 erties of the nation. Of this description were some plans 
 which he proposed for augmenting the royal revenue, 
 witliout having recourse to parliament. To this last re- 
 source Elizabeth had a peculiar aversion ; and, rather than 
 endure the disquisitions and remonstrances from which 
 the commons could now with much difficulty be restrained, 
 she was willing to relieve her pressing exigencies by 
 alienating the crown lands, and entailing irremediable 
 embarrassment on her successors. Cecil seems to have 
 been desirous to avert these ruinous alienations, and yet 
 anxious to gratify the queen by procuring supplies inde- 
 pendent of the parliament. One scheme for this purpose, 
 which he proposed in a speech to Elizabeth and her coun- 
 cil, was to erect a court for the correction of all abuses, 
 invested with a general inquisitorial authority over the 
 whole kingdom, and empowered to punish defaults by fines 
 for the royal exchequer. He urges the queen to the adop- 
 tion of this measure by the example of her grandfather, 
 Henry VII., who by such means greatly augmented his 
 revenue ; and recommends that the court, to render its 
 operations more effectual, should proceed " as well by the 
 direction and ordinary course of the laws, as by the virtue 
 of her majesty's supreme regiment and absolute power, 
 from whence law proceeded." From this institution he 
 expected a greater revenue than Henry VIII. derived 
 from the abolition of the abbeys, and all the forfeitures of 
 ecclesiastical revenues.* Strange ! that a minister who, 
 on other occasions, so wisely regarded the popular feeling, 
 should propose a scheme which must have revived the 
 odious extortions of Empson and Dudley. Refined spec- 
 ulations on the motives of men are almost always false, or 
 we might be induced to suppose that Cecil, on this occa- 
 sion, was desirous to turn the attention of the queen from 
 more practicable methods of procuring illegal supplies, by 
 directing it to schemes which could never be executed. 
 
 Another financial suggestion of his was entitled to ap- 
 probation, if we make due allowance for the abuses and 
 ignorance of the age. Although it was the acknowledged 
 prerogative of the commons, that no tax should be levied 
 on the people without their consent, yet the kings of Eng- 
 land had found various means to elude this right. Of 
 these, one of the most successful was, to levy money under 
 the name of a benevolence, or voluntary loan, which, how- 
 ever, scarcely differed in any thing from a tax. Its amount 
 was regulated by the government, and those from whom 
 it was demanded were obliged to comply : the lenders re- 
 
 '' Strype, Annals, vol. iv. p. :}34. 
 
228 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 ceived no interest while it remained in the hands of the 
 public ; and the principal, if ever returned, was usually 
 detained till a very distant period.* Yet such was the ef- 
 fect of a name, that people acquiesced patiently in this 
 abuse ; and the same commons, who would have taken 
 fire at an attempt to levy a subsidy by the monarch's sole 
 authority, were brought to countenance his no less oppres- 
 sive borrowing. As the benevolences were imposed at 
 the discretion of the officers of government, who had also 
 a power to accept what they chose to account a reasonable 
 excuse, they were levied in the most partial and injurious 
 manner. Some individuals were reduced to ruin by these 
 exactions ; while others, of equal property, were allowed 
 to escape them altogether. Cecil, to render this practice 
 less unfair in itself, and less severe on individuals, hazard- 
 ed a proposition to raise a general loan on the people, 
 equivalent in amount to a subsidy, and imposed according 
 to the same proportions.! 
 
 It was with a more successful issue, and much happier 
 example, that he strenuously recommended a rigid frugality 
 as the only effectual means of carrying on the govern- 
 ment, without compromising its authority, or engendering 
 public discontents. Elizabeth had the prudence to coin- 
 cide with these economical views ; and she has hence de- 
 servedly acquired the reputation of husbanding her re- 
 sources with the utmost skill, and making very few demands 
 on the property of her people. Although surrounded by 
 powerful enemies, engaged in frequent wars, obliged to 
 disburse large sums for the support of her friends abroad, 
 and the suppression of dangerous enterprises at home, she 
 conducted her government at less expense, in proportion 
 to her undertakings, than any sovereign in our history. 
 The large debts, contracted by her father and sister, with 
 which she found the crown encumbered at her accession, 
 amounted, it is said, to four millions, — an enormous sum 
 in that age 4 yet these she quickly discharged, and, at 
 her death, could rank her most potent allies among her 
 
 * The methoda practised in levying these forced voluntary loans are 
 developed in a curious paper of instructions from the council of Henry VIII. 
 to the commissioners for tlie county of Derby, inserted in Lodge's Illustra- 
 tions, vol. i. p. 71. The commissioners are here enjoined to employ every 
 art that may work upon the hopes or fears of the person applied to ; and if, 
 after all, he obstinately refuses to comply, they are then ordered to swear 
 him to secrecy in regard to what has passed, that his example may not 
 influence others. But, occasionally, much more severe measures were 
 resorted to against the refractory ; and from a document in the same col- 
 lection (vol. 1. p. 82), we find Richard Reed, an alderman of London, who 
 refused to contribute, forcibly carried off, bv the king's order, to serve as a 
 common soldier ! 
 
 t Hayne», p. 519. X D'Ewei, p. 473. 
 
I 
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 229 
 
 debtors. The states of Holland owed her 800,000^., and 
 the king of France 450,000.Z* 
 
 From this strict economy, of which Cecil never lost 
 sight, there resulted the most important advantages. As 
 the people were not harassed with exactions, the govern- 
 ment of Elizabeth was extremely popular, at a period 
 when the dangerous machinations of her enemies, both at 
 home and abroad, rendered popularity indispensable to her 
 safety. Without illegal extortions, or contests with her 
 parliament, she was enabled to maintain her independence, 
 and to avoid concessions to which her haughty spirit could 
 not submit. She was even able occasionally to acquire 
 the praise of disinterestedness and generosity, by refusing 
 the grants of money which were offered to her by the le- 
 gislature without solicitation. By this management she so 
 completely acquired the confidence of her subjects, that 
 the commons, though in these days extremely tenacious 
 of their money, voted her, without reluctance, and without 
 annexing any conditions, much larger sums than had been 
 granted to her predecessors. They knew that their treas- 
 ures were never misapplied ; that nothing was expended 
 which could possibly be saved ; and the unavoidable ex- 
 igencies of the state were always acknowledged by the 
 nation before the government had recourse to parliament 
 for supplies. When we consider the temper and conduct 
 of Elizabeth, we cannot but attribute the tranquillity of 
 her reign, in a great measure, to this rigid frugality. 
 Scarcely less haughty and impatient of contradiction than 
 her father, her pretensions to absolute authority were at 
 times even more lofty, and her usual language to her par- 
 liaments still less gracious. As the commons, however 
 compliant in other respects, were ever ready to encounter 
 danger, rather than surrender the public money without 
 evident utility, or a valuable consideration, it can scarcely 
 be doubted, that, if she had been led into embarrassments 
 by prodigality, their resolute demands lor concessions on 
 the one hand, and her obstinate refusal to abridge her 
 power on the other, would have terminated in civil con- 
 vulsions. 
 
 In the intercourse of England with foreign nations, this 
 economy in the management of public money was replete 
 with equal advantage. The allies, whom it was most es- 
 sential for Elizabeth to support, were often reduced to 
 such straits for money, that the dispersion of their forces, 
 and the utter ruin of their hopes, seemed inevitable. In 
 
 * Winwood, vol. i. p. 29. 54. 
 
 VOL. I. 20 
 
230 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 these critical emergencies, she found means, either from 
 her exchequer or her credit, to afford them a supply ; and 
 its seasonableness gave it an efficacy beyond its magni- 
 tude. But thougli she relieved them opportunely, she 
 wasted none of her resources without the most evident 
 necessity. Her policy was never to afford them any sup- 
 plies of men and money, until she found that they could 
 not otherwise defend themselves ; to send them at length 
 succors just sufficient to retrieve their circumstances ; 
 and to withdraw her forces as soon as the most imminent 
 danger was repelled. She was liberal only when her allies 
 were much depressed, and it was necessary to revive their 
 drooping spirits ; at other times, she required that the 
 money which she advanced should be repaid, and even 
 that the expenses of her armaments should be reimbursed. 
 Most of her pecuniary assistance to Henry IV. of France 
 was given in the form of loans ; and the Dutch were 
 obliged to put into her hands several fortified towns as 
 security for the repayment of her advances. She thus 
 enabled her allies to retrieve their affairs, and provided 
 that the expenditure, of which they were to reap the chief 
 benefit, should not become a burden to her subjects. 
 
 The frugality of Elizabeth did not escape censure ; and 
 Cecil, by whose counsels it was known to be enforced, 
 was often reproached with sacrificing the best allies of 
 England to his little-minded and parsimonious policy. 
 But events fully justified his sagacity. While our allies 
 were raised to the most vigorous exertion, and finally 
 triumphed over their enemies, England herself, the main 
 spring of these efforts, advanced in a progressive course 
 of prosperity. 
 
 But it was the very sparing hand with which he dis- 
 tributed the public money at home, that excited against 
 him the loudest clamors. In those days it was customary 
 for men of rank to Avaste their property in attendance at 
 court, and in an idle emulation of splendor, while they 
 looked to the bounty of the sovereign for repairing their 
 ruined fortunes. To the importunities of this train, who 
 perpetually beset the court, and yet could urge no other 
 claim than their own profusion, Cecil was inexorable. 
 They complained that he not only refused to exert his in- 
 terest in their behalf, but even hardened the queen against 
 their solicitations.* Elizabeth, indeed, had no inclination 
 to be prodigal of her treasures, unless when her individual 
 
 * " Madam," ho was accustomed to say, " you do well to let suitors stay, 
 for I shall tell you bis dat qui cito dot ; if you frant them speedily, they will 
 come again the sooner." — Bacon's Works, vol. iii. p. 264. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 231 
 
 predilections occasionally overcame her general parsi- 
 mony. Her partial regard to the earl of Essex seems par- 
 ticularly to have moved her liberality ; for we find, that, 
 on his departure for the government of Ireland, she made 
 him a present of 30,000^.;* and Cecil, who watched these 
 instances of profusion with a jealous eye, computed that, 
 from first to last, her pecuniary gifts to the earl amounted 
 to 300,000/. ;t — a lavish bounty, while the annual ordinary 
 revenues of the state did not exceed 500,000/. 
 
 Elizabeth, anxious to avoid dependence on her parlia- 
 ment, was too often persuaded to reward her courtiers 
 with grants prejudicial to the national prosperity. Some- 
 times she yielded them exemptions from the penalties of 
 the laws ; sometimes she indulged them in the suppres- 
 sion of prosecutions ; and still more frequently, she en- 
 riched them by monopolies of articles in general use. 
 Against these abuses, which he justly termed tlie cankers 
 of the commonwealth,! Cecil continually remonstrated, 
 but too often in vain. Towards the latter end of the 
 reign, however, the evil became so enormous as to compel 
 a remedy ; for the commons, perceiving the commerce of 
 the nation hastening to ruin under the pressure of monop- 
 olies, became so vehement in their complaints, that 
 Elizabeth felt the necessity of abolishing the most ob- 
 noxious. 
 
 But while Cecil was the avowed enemy of all grants to 
 idle suitors, he anxiously desired that those who performed 
 real services should enjoy a liberal provision. It was by 
 his salutary regulations that the common soldiers were 
 first clothed at the expense of government, and received 
 their weekly allowance directly into their own hands.§ 
 According to the previous practice, the whole pay of the 
 corps was consigned into the hands of the superior officers, 
 who were so little restricted, either as to the time or the 
 amount of their distributions, that the unfortunate soldiers 
 were sometimes absolutely left to starve. The reformation 
 of these abuses occasioned many murmurs among those 
 whom it deprived of their unjust gains ; but it infused 
 new loyalty and vigor into the English army, at a period 
 when foreign invasion, assisted by many internal enemies, 
 threatened to involve the country in ruin. From a general 
 adherence to this system, of being liberal to the servants 
 of the public, and very parsimonious to the dependants of 
 the court, it became a common saying, that " the queen 
 paid liberally, though she rewarded sparingly." 
 
 * Birch's Memoirs, vol. ii. I Nanton's Regalia, chap. i. 
 
 X Life of VSTilliam Lord Burghley, p. 52. $ Ibid. p. 47. 
 
232 
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Cecil was raised to the office of lord high treasurer in 
 the eleventh year of his administration. In this high sta- 
 tion, while he punished with severity all oppression in the 
 collection of the revenue, he gave strict orders that no 
 one should be allowed to escape from his just proportion 
 of the public taxes. All undue lenity of this sort to one 
 individual, he considered a direct injustice to another; 
 since the deficiency must have been made up by new ex- 
 actions on the more honorable contributors. From this 
 strict impartiality, and from his improved arrangements, 
 the receipts of the treasury, from the same sources, ex- 
 perienced a great amelioration. The abuse, which then 
 prevailed, of ministers retaining in their hands, and receiv- 
 ing interest on, considerable sums of the public money, he 
 endeavored to check by never issuing the smallest pay- 
 ment without an express warrant from the queen. Of the 
 purity which he required in others, he himself set an ex- 
 ample ; for he never imitated the usual practice of other 
 treasurers, in occasionally borrowing from the exchequer 
 for private purposes ; and he was sQmost the only one of 
 Elizabeth's ministers who, at his death, owed nothing to 
 the public. This strict attention to the interests of the 
 exchequer is the more commendable, as it proceeded from 
 a desire to diminish the burdens of the people. So averse 
 was he to all new impositions on the subjects, that he 
 would never allow the tenants of the crown lands to be 
 harassed by a rise of rents, or turned out to make room 
 for higher bidders ; and it was his excellent saying, "that 
 he never cared to see the treasury swell like a disordered 
 spleen, when the other parts of the constitution were in a 
 consumption."* 
 
 From the same considerations with his love of economy 
 arose his steady attachment to pacific measures. Instruct- 
 ed both by history and by observation, that war was the 
 great means of wasting the resources of nations, he firmly 
 resisted the efforts of those rash and ambitious spirits, who 
 perpetually endeavored to plunge the nation into hostili- 
 ties, with the view of advancing their own reputation and 
 fortunes. He had ever on his lips the salutary maxims, 
 " that war is soon kindled, but peace very hardly procured ; 
 that war is the curse, and peace the blessing of God upon 
 a nation ; and that a realm gains more by one year's peace 
 than by ten years' war."t By these pacific counsels, the 
 
 * Camden, Anual, Eliz. Life of W^illiam Lord Burghley, p. 53. 
 t Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 70, 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 233 
 
 queen, from the soundness of her understanding, and her 
 aversion to expense, was usually swayed. On a few oc- 
 casions, a longing for military glory, or a leaning to some 
 favorite counsellors, who were men of more ambition than 
 discretion, caused her to disregard the dissuasions of Ce- 
 cil ; but more serious reflection seldom failed to dispel her 
 illusion. 
 
 The wisdom of Cecil, in adhering resolutely to a pacific 
 system, deserves the more applause, as the condition of 
 Europe at that period was calculated to tempt an English 
 minister into extensive wars. While Scotland and France 
 were torn by intestine convulsions, and the rebels often 
 enabled to overpower the sovereign, the Low Countries, 
 which had revolted against Philip, seemed determined to 
 endure the last extremities rather than again submit to 
 his dominion. England alone enjoyed internal tranquil- 
 lity ; and, by uniting with the insurgents of either coun- 
 try, might have acquired both a large addition of territory, 
 and such other concessions as may be wrested from a 
 weaker power. But Cecil well knew that conquests 
 were not the true road to national aggrandizement ; and 
 that his country would suffer more in her resources and 
 real strength, from an extensive and protracted war, than 
 she could gain from its most successful results. 
 
 Yet, though the strenuous advocate of a pacific policy, 
 his forbearance did not arise from timidity, nor his par- 
 simony from a contracted mind. Against the dangers 
 which threatened the kingdom, he prepared with firmness 
 and activity ; and when the public interests required it, he 
 could advise a large expenditure and extensive armaments. 
 When the prospect of the Spanish invasion filled the 
 nation with just alarm, he drew up plans of defence ; and, 
 by his serene and collected demeanor, seconded his 
 courageous mistress in diffusing general confidence and 
 intrepidity.* His conduct with respect to the allies and 
 enemies of his country forms so important a part of his 
 transactions, and exhibits a system of foreign policy so 
 much more extensive and refined than had hitherto been 
 acted upon in England, as to demand a more particular 
 examination. 
 
 From the early part of tlie sixteenth century, the politi- 
 cal transactions of Europe, had gradually been assuming a 
 more systematic form ; and a sort of balance of power was 
 at length established among the principal nations. Henry 
 Vni. boasted of holding this balance ; but he held it with so 
 
 * Camden, AnnaL Eliz. p. 582. 
 
 20* 
 
234 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 unsteady a hand, and his measures were so much the'result 
 of momentary passion, that his influence in foreign trans- 
 actions was far from adequate to his comparative power. 
 During the reign of Edward VI. England was prevented, 
 by her internal factions, from giving much attention to 
 external affairs ; and, by the marriage of Mary with Philip, 
 was sunk for a time into little else than a province of the 
 overgrown Spanish monarchy. But under Elizabeth, vari- 
 ous circumstances occurred to alter the aspect of affairs ; 
 and England, from the wisdom with which her government 
 availed itself of her advantages, obtained an extraordinary 
 ascendancy in the public transactions of Europe. 
 
 Of these circumstances, the most important arose from 
 the general change which, at this period, was taking 
 place in religious sentiments. The commencement of the 
 reformation has been noticed in the life of sir Thomas 
 More, and since that time the new principles had spread 
 through almost every country of Europe. The Roman 
 hierarchy attempted to extinguish them by the aid of 
 secular authority ; but the reformers, afler suffering incred- 
 ible oppressions, began to defend their freedom of opinion 
 by force of arms. Elizabeth, the greatest sovereign of 
 Europe who had embraced the new faith, was, from her 
 situation, placed at the head of the Protestant cause. 
 Exposed thus to the inveterate resentment of the Catholics, 
 her protection was relied on by the reformed with the 
 more confidence, as they knew the adherents of the pope 
 to be no less her enemies than their own. The foreign 
 policy of Cecil was adapted to this state of things. He 
 knew that the English Catholics, who still formed a power- 
 ful body in the nation, were secretly encouraged and 
 urged to dangerous insurrections by the foreign princes of 
 their persuasion. He also knew that these princes were 
 eager to seize an opportunity of uniting their forces to 
 wrest the sceptre from Elizabeth; and that they had 
 already begun to form extensive leagues for that purpose. 
 The most effectual means to avert these dangers was, lie 
 concluded, to support the Protestants in their opposition to 
 their Catholic sovereigns, who would thus be sufficiently 
 occupied at home, and have neither the leisure nor the 
 power to turn their arms against England. 
 
 We are first to consider the application of thi# plan of 
 policy to the Spanish empire. Philip, at that time the 
 most wealthy and powerful monarch of Europe, was 
 actuated both by inordinate ambition and by a gloomy and 
 unrelenting bigotry. By standing forth as the champion 
 of Rome, and laboring to extenninate the Protestants by 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 235 
 
 fire and sword, he expected to acquire such a body of ad- 
 herents in every country of Europe, as might pave his way 
 to universal dominion. To a prince with such views, 
 Elizabeth, who stood at the head of the Protestant interest, 
 was necessarily the most marked object of enmity : yet 
 there were circumstances which induced him, in the first 
 period of her reign, to postpone his hostile schemes, and 
 even to appear as her supporter. At first, he entertained 
 hopes, by gaining her hand, to eflTect the darling plan, 
 which his union with her sister had failed to realize, of 
 attaching England to the Spanish monarchy. Even after 
 this hope was gone, the marriage of Mary queen of Scots 
 with Francis II., which threatened, if Elizabeth should be 
 overwhelmed by her enemies, to reduce England as well 
 as Scotland under the dominion of France, rendered him 
 desirous to support her against their attempts. But when 
 freed from these apprehensions by the death of Francis, 
 he began to put in practice the enterprises suggested by 
 his schemes of aggrandizement. He still wore the mask 
 of friendship, but he was from that time forward wholly 
 occupied with the extirpation of heresy, and with projects 
 to deprive its great protectress of her throne and her life. 
 
 Cecil was, from the first, aware of the real disposition 
 and views of Philip. He perceived that if, by any con- 
 tingency, the circumstances which rendered a show of 
 friendship towards Elizabeth subservient to that prince's 
 interest should be removed, she would have every thing 
 to dread from his ambition and bigotry. Yet even afler 
 the course of events had rendered this dissimulation un- 
 necessary, and the king of Spain had begun to throw oflf 
 the mask, the prudent minister of England still advised 
 his mistress to temporize, and, as long as possible, to 
 avoid open hostilities ; when her power should be more 
 firmly established, her finances improved, and her forces 
 augmented, then, he showed her, would be the proper 
 period to undertake tlie contest : in the mean time, it was 
 her policy to dissemble her resentment at the faithless- 
 ness of Philip, to meet his advances as if she believed 
 them sincere, and to send an embassy into Spain to 
 settle, by negotiation, any occasional quarrels that might 
 arise.* 
 
 These cautious suggestions of Cecil, which the queen 
 had the wisdom to follow, were loudly declaimed against 
 by his political rivals, as resulting from a weak and timid 
 disposition, calculated to compromise the glory of his 
 country, and to degrade its government in the eyes of 
 
 * Camden, p. 70. 
 
236 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 foreigners. The aids, in men, money, and ammunition^ 
 which, at the same period, he counselled to be sent to the 
 French Protestants, excited reproaches no less importu- 
 nate, but of an opposite nature ; for he, who had just been 
 branded as weak and timid, was now accused of rash- 
 ness and a disregard to the public safety. Such is the 
 justice of faction ! 
 
 In pursuance of his ambitious projects, Philip had re- 
 solved to deprive his subjects in the Low Countries of 
 their ancient privileges, to bring them completely under the 
 yoke of despotism, and at the same time to extirpate that 
 heresy which, in conjunction with the principles of civil 
 liberty, had already begun to flourish among them. For 
 this purpose he sent thither a body of veteran Spaniards, 
 commanded by the duke of Alva ; an experienced officer, 
 but a gloomy bigot, in whose bosom long habits of tyranny 
 seemed to have extinguished every feeling of humanity. 
 His arrival in the Netherlands was marked by the most 
 wanton barbarities. Confiscation, imprisonment, and exile, 
 were accounted mild punishments ; few, who had once 
 the misfortune to become objects of suspicion, escaped 
 torture or death ; and the victims, whom malice pointed 
 out to the jealous instruments of the tyrant, were often, 
 without any form of accusation or trial, committed to the 
 flames. Such was the barbarity of this man, that, besides 
 the slaughters perpetrated by his soldiers, he boasted, 
 with a savage joy, on leaving the Netherlands, tliat, during 
 his government there, he had delivered eighteen thousand 
 of these obstinate heretics into the hands of the execu- 
 tioner.* 
 
 The unfortunate Flemings quitted their native country 
 in crowds, fled to England, the only state in Europe where 
 they could depend on effectual protection ; and Elizabeth, 
 cordially receiving them, was enabled, with their assist- 
 ance, to enrich her dominions by several valuable manu- 
 factures which had hitherto been chiefly confined to the 
 Netherlands. Nor was it long till an opportunity occurred 
 of rendering an indirect assistance to their miserable 
 country. Philip, having contracted witli some Genoese 
 merchants to transport into Flanders a sum of four hundred 
 thousand crowns for the use of his troops, who were 
 almost in a state of mutiny for the want of pay, the vessels 
 on board of which this treasure was conveyed, happening 
 to be attacked in the channel by some privateers belonging 
 to the French Hugonots, took refuge in the ports of 
 Plymouth and Southampton. Here it was given out, both 
 
 * Grutius, lib. ii. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 237 
 
 by the captains of the vessels and the Spanish ambassador, 
 that their cargoes were the property of the king of Spain ; 
 but Cecil, who had always the best means of procuring 
 intelligence, found out that the money, in fact, did not 
 belong to Philip, that the Genoese merchants had not yet 
 fulfilled their contract, and were, in consequence, the 
 proprietors of the treasure. On this discovery, he entreat- 
 ed the queen not to neglect so favorable an opportunity 
 of striking a decisive blow against the Spanish power in 
 Flanders. By taking the money as a loan, and by giving 
 security for its repayment, he argued that she might 
 satisfy the Genoese, while the measure would effectudly 
 wound the interests of Spain, without any direct hostility. 
 With this advice Elizabeth complied, and the event de- 
 monstrated its sagacity. While the duke of Alva, thrown 
 into the greatest embarrassment by the loss of his expect- 
 ed supplies, was obliged, to prevent an immediate mutiny 
 among his troops, to make the most severe exactions from 
 the inhabitants ; the tyrannical manner in which they were 
 levied stretched the patience of the people to the utmost, 
 and prepared their minds for the most desperate re- 
 sistance.* 
 
 This transaction, which produced irreparable evils to 
 the Spanish power in the Low Countries, gave rise to 
 some temporary hostilities between Spain and England. 
 The duke of Alva seized the persons and goods of the 
 English merchants in the Netherlands, and Elizabeth 
 retaliated on the merchants of Flanders and Spain. But 
 as Philip had not yet matured his schemes for taking 
 effectual vengeance on England, and as his antagonist did 
 not consider the time arrived for a final rupture with him, 
 these differences were settled by negotiation, and the mer- 
 chants on both sides indemnified. Elizabeth even yielded 
 so far to the remonstrances of Philip, as to refuse the 
 Flemish refugees admittance for the future into her do- 
 minions; but this act of complaisance was followed by 
 very unexpected consequences. These suflTerers, finding 
 no place of refuge from their enemies, returned, in despair, 
 to their own coasts, seized the seaport of the Brille, and, 
 being soon joined by crowds of their persecuted country- 
 men, reared the standard of revolt throughout Holland and 
 Zealand. A solemn league between these two provinces, 
 never again to submit to the tyranny of Spain, now laid 
 the corner-stone of Dutch independence. The stand 
 which the talents of their general, the prince of Orange, 
 
 * Camden, Annal. Eliz. Nanton's Fragnaenta Regalia. Bentivoglio, 
 part i. lib. v. 
 
238 
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 united with their own desperate valor, enabled them to 
 make against this mighty monarcliy, far exceeded the 
 general expectation. It was not till after a long siege 
 and great loss, that the duke of Alva succeeded in taking 
 Haarlem ; and he was finally compelled to abandon his 
 attempts on Alkmaer. The duke was recalled ; but the 
 veteran forces of Spain, supported by her great resources, 
 still pressed severely on the Hollanders, who seemed 
 about to sink under the unequal contest. In this emer- 
 gency their eyes were turned to their only remaining 
 hope, — an embassy which they had sent to Elizabeth, im- 
 ploring her protection, and offering her in return the im- 
 mediate possession and sovereignty of their country. 
 
 A valuable accession of maritime territory, as well as 
 an opportunity of immediately enfeebling her capital 
 enemy, presented very powerful temptations. But many 
 weighty objections naturally occurred to her sagacious 
 counsellors. It was apparent that, to accept the proffered 
 sovereignty, would involve her in immediate hostilities with 
 Philip ; that he would be enabled to throw on her the 
 reproach of aggression and injustice ; that, as these prov- 
 inces had applied to her merely from the insufficiency of 
 their own resources, it was probable that she would have 
 to sustain the great burden of the contest ; that, from the 
 exhausted state in which, even if ultimately successful, 
 they would naturally be left by the war, their revenues 
 could not speedily repair the waste of her resources which 
 their defence must occasion ; but that as, against the im- 
 mense power of Philip, their success was very doubtful, a 
 present and certain loss would be incurred for distant and 
 precarious advantages. Nor were the more remote evils 
 less to be apprehended, since the possession of a conti- 
 nental territory would necessarily involve England in 
 many disputes and wars, from which her insular situation 
 seemed designed to exempt her. The influence of these 
 considerations on the mind of Elizabeth was greatly in- 
 creased by her unwillingness to abet subjects in resistance 
 to their monarch. Her ideas of sovereign power were, in- 
 deed, scarcely less lofty than those of Philip; and the 
 depression of a dangerous enemy seemed too dearly pur- 
 chased by an example of successful rebellion. She refused 
 the proffered sovereignty, but she endeavored to soften the 
 disappointment to the provinces by promising to mediate 
 between them and Philip. 
 
 Her attempts at conciliation were, as might have been 
 foreseen, ineffectual ; but the circumstances of the Hol- 
 landers soon afterwards experienced an alteration which 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 239 
 
 justified a corresponding change in the policy of England. 
 The other provinces of the Netherlands, abused beyond 
 endurance by the horrible excesses of the Spanish troops, 
 had, with the single exception of Luxembourg, risen in 
 arms, and formed a common league to resist foreign ty- 
 ranny. The strength of the confederacy was now suf- 
 ficient to give it a fair prospect of success, and the English 
 government resolved to assist the provinces without delay. 
 A sum of money was sent over for the immediate payment 
 of their troops ; and a treaty of mutual defence afterwards 
 concluded with them, on the prudential and frugal system 
 which Cecil continually enforced. The queen stipulated 
 to assist the Hollanders with five thousand foot and a 
 thousand horse, but this reinforcement was to be at their 
 charge ; to lend them a hundred thousand pounds, but to 
 receive, in return, the bond of several towns in the Low 
 Countries for its repayment within the year. It was also 
 agreed that, in the event of her being attacked, the prov- 
 inces should assist her with a force equal to that which 
 she now sent for their protection ; that all quarrels among 
 themselves should be referred to her arbitration ; that her 
 general should sit as a member in the council of the states, 
 and should be made acquainted with all deliberations con- 
 cerning peace and war.* By this treaty the queen raised 
 the courage of the United Provinces at a critical juncture, 
 efiectually weakened her capital enemy, and avoided any 
 considerable waste of her own resources. 
 
 But the independence of this noble republic was not to 
 be accomplished without a new succession of difficulties 
 and dangers. By the uncommon talents of the prince of 
 Parma, who now commanded against the states, and the 
 assassination of their illustrious leader, the prince of 
 Orange, they were again reduced to the most desperate 
 condition. Again they sent a solemn embassy to implore 
 the assistance of Elizabeth, and again proffered their sove- 
 reignty as the price of protection. The reasons which 
 formerly induced her to decline this offer still led her to 
 the same determination ; but, as the enmity of Philip was 
 daily becoming more apparent, and the success of the 
 states more essential to her security, it was her evident 
 policy to render them more eflfectual assistance. In a new 
 treaty, she agreed to aid them with an army of five thou- 
 sand foot and one thousand horse, to be paid by herself 
 during the war ; but, not forgetting the maxims of prudence 
 amidst her liberality, she stipulated that the whole of her 
 expenses should be repaid after the conclusion of hostilities ; 
 
 * Camden, Annal. Eliz. p. 507. 
 
240 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 that the castle of Rammekens, with Flushing and the Brille, 
 should, in the mean time, be placed in her hands as securi- 
 ty ; that her general, and two others of her appointment, 
 should be admitted into the council of the states ; and that 
 neither of the contracting parties should make a separate 
 peace. The reinforcements stipulated by this treaty were 
 speedily sent over, under the command of the earl of Lei- 
 cester.* The appointment of this incapable and arrogant 
 officer is said to have been the only step, in the transactions 
 relative to the Low Countries, that was taken in opposition 
 to the counsels of Cecil.f It was also the only circum- 
 stance that led to unprosperous events, and impaired the 
 efficacy of the English succors. 
 
 Although the United Provinces, in their struggle for 
 freedom, encountered many disasters, still their persever- 
 ing courage, aided by some favorable incidents, gradually 
 began to gain on their enemies. From a habit of success- 
 ful resistance, they learned to look on the power of Spain, 
 and the chances of war, with less apprehension : the active 
 spirit excited among tliem began to display itself in com- 
 mercial enterprises, which quickly augmented their re- 
 sources. A powerful diversion was also produced in their 
 favor by Henry the Fourth of France, who, after having 
 subdued his internal enemies, now began to retaliate the 
 many hostile acts of Philip in the days of his adversity. 
 Perceiving this favorable change in the circumstances of 
 the states, which rendered them in Jess immediate want of 
 assistance from England, Cecil, always averse to waste 
 the blood and treasure of the nation in superfluous effiarts, 
 began to remind the queen that it was now time to dimin- 
 ish her disbursements in behalf of her allies. To this sug- 
 gestion she readily hearkened ; and, that the limitation of 
 her intended retrenchments might appear a favor, she de- 
 sired her ambassador to demand the immediate repayment 
 of all her loans and expenses. Against this unexpected 
 requisition, with which they were wholly unable to comply, 
 the states, in much consternation, remonstrated ; and, after 
 many supplications, prevailed on the queen to be satisfied 
 with more moderate conditions. By a new treaty, they 
 engaged to relieve her immediately from the expense of 
 their English auxiliaries ; to pay her annually a small part 
 of their debt ; to assist her, in case it should be requisite, 
 with a stipulated number of ships ; to conclude peace only 
 with her concurrence ; and, in lieu of all her demands 
 against them, to pay her, after the conclusion of peace 
 with Spain, an annual sum of one hundred thousand 
 
 * *W.mden, Anual. EUz. > Si)-? + Leicestfr'j Coininouwealth, p. 195. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 241 
 
 pounds for four years. Until all these conditions should 
 be fulfilled, the cautionary towns were to remain in her 
 hands. On her part, it was merely stipulated, that she 
 should assist them, during the war, with a body of four 
 thousand English auxiliaries, which, however, were to be 
 paid by the states.* 
 
 Before the termination of his political career, Cecil had 
 the satisfaction to conclude another treaty, in which still 
 more favorable conditions were procured for England. 
 The states agreed to fix the amount of their debt at eight 
 hundred thousand pounds ; to pay one half of this sum 
 during the war, at the rate of thirty thousand pounds a 
 year ; to assist Elizabeth with a fleet equal to her own, if 
 a convenient opportunity should occur of attacking Spain 
 by sea ; and to send a force of five thousand foot and five 
 hundred horse to her defence, if either England, or Jersey, 
 or Scilly, or the Isle of Wight, should be invaded by the 
 Spaniards. They further agreed that, so long as England 
 should continue the war with Spain, they should pay the 
 garrisons of the cautionary towns, — a stipulation by which 
 this country was at once freed from an annual charge of an 
 hundred and twenty thousand pounds.f 
 
 The first avowed assistance which England rendered to 
 the United Provinces was the signal for open hostilities 
 with Spain ; and Philip, to gratify at once his revenge and 
 ambition, attempted, by means of his famous armada, to 
 achieve the entire conquest of England. But as the 
 failure of this immense armament, and various successful 
 attacks on the fieets and harbors of Spain, gave the Eng- 
 lish a superiority at sea, Philip, finding his losses increase 
 as his hopes diminished, sliowed a disposition to make 
 peace on reasonable terms. This favorable opportunity 
 of entering into negotiation Cecil now strongly urged the 
 queen to seize ; for although the war continued to be very 
 successful and very honorable, yet he felt the wounds 
 which it inflicted, under every appearance of advantage. 
 By their captures from the Spaniards, a few individuals 
 were enriched, and Elizabeth generally took care to have 
 iier full share in these successful adventures ; still the 
 royal treasury was exhausted by the expenses of the war, 
 and the reluctant queen frequently forced to replenish it 
 by applying to parliament. 
 
 The war, however, was continued, because it offered 
 temptations which neither the queen nor the people were 
 
 * Camden, Annal. Eliz. p. 586. 
 f Rymer'e Foedera, vol. xvi, p. 340. 
 VOL. I. 21 
 
242 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 able to resist. The scarcity of the precious metals ren- 
 dered their value in these days extravagant ; and the rich 
 freights transported from the New World to Spain pre- 
 sented the most powerful excitement to avarice. Stimu- 
 lated by these, sir Francis Drake had, even before the 
 commencement of open hostilities with Spain, begun his 
 depredations on her commerce ; and by the treasures which 
 he brought home, as well as the accounts which he circu- 
 lated, inflamed the avidity of his countrymen. Against 
 these piratical acts the Spaniards vehemently remonstrat- 
 ed ; but Elizabeth accepted of an entertainment and a 
 handsome present from Drake, and gave the Spanish am- 
 bassador very little satisfaction. Encouraged by the coun- 
 tenance of their sovereign, and at length authorized by an 
 open declaration of war, English privateers swarmed 
 around the Spanish coast, both in Europe and America. 
 These enterprises became the usual adventure of the 
 times, by which the rich expected to increase their wealth, 
 and the prodigal to repair their fortunes. In the event of 
 a rich prize, Elizabeth was not forgotten ; nor did she ever 
 refuse to gratify ^he captors by graciously accepting their 
 presents. These exploits were usually undertaken in 
 partnership, and a vessel or two were sometimes furnished 
 by her majesty ; a speculation which seldom failed to turn 
 to the benefit of the treasury, as the queen's portion of the 
 booty, by means of duties, presents, and various other al- 
 lowances, generally proved much greater than her share 
 in the equipment. An adventure of sir Walter Raleigh 
 having proved very successful, that experienced courtier 
 humbly entreated the queen, who had borne a tenth part 
 in the expense, to accept one half of the booty, in lieu of 
 all demands. In these enterprises many, indeed, lost 
 both their fortunes and their lives ; but the successful ad- 
 venturers alone attracted the public notice, and this lottery 
 continued to prove irresistibly tempting. 
 
 It is probable that Cecil, who attended so much to the 
 progress of national industry and wealth, perceived many 
 bad consequences from this mode of warfare. The atten- 
 tion of the nation was withdrawn from manufactures and 
 commerce ; the capital and enterprise, which would other- 
 wise have remained to the useful arts, were wasted on 
 schemes of hazard. The people, neglecting those em- 
 ployments from which alone solid and general opulence 
 can be derived, were in danger of acquiring tlie habits 
 and calculations of pirates. But there were other and 
 more generous passions, which rendered the court and the 
 people unwilling to hearken to the representations of 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 243 
 
 Cecil. Although Spain was at that time tlie most power- 
 ful nation in Europe, the English, with vessels far inferior, 
 had harassed her mightiest fleet, captured her richest 
 convoys, and even burnt her ships in her principal harbors. 
 These successes, obtained by courage and skill over a 
 haughty enemy, greatly elevated the spirits of our coun- 
 trymen ; and the glory of the English arms became a tri- 
 umphant theme in every mouth. To pursue this gallant 
 course, to follow up these blows by new achievements, to 
 lay the pride of Spain prostrate at their feet, were the ex- 
 pressions which resounded throughout the nation. 
 
 Into these sentiments Elizabeth cordially entered ; for, 
 with all the soundness of her understanding, love of fame 
 was a predominant passion in her breast, and nothing 
 could exceed her desire of being admired, whether for the 
 imagined charms of her person, or the heroic exploits of 
 her subjects. In the present question, the influence of 
 vanity was confirmed by a more tender sentiment. The 
 young earl of Essex had now succeeded to that place in 
 her aflfections which had formerly been held by the earl of 
 Leicester. No quality which could captivate seemed to 
 be wanting in this young nobleman. A person uncom- 
 monly handsome derived new graces from manners easy, 
 frank, and popular ; and such was the ascendancy of these 
 external advantages, united to a nature liberal and ardent, 
 that he had the rare fortune of being no less the idol of 
 the people than the favorite of the sovereign. Yet these 
 shining qualities were accompanied by defects which 
 rendered him particularly unfit for the management of 
 public affairs. Impatient, passionate, and wilful, he was bo 
 jealous of his honor, as to be inflamed by even an imagi- 
 nary insult; so greedy of fame, that every successful rival 
 appeared an enemy ; so fond of military glory, that no 
 considerations of policy could restrain him from precipi- 
 tating his country into a war where he might earn dis- 
 tinction ; and yet so unfit, from imprudence and heat, for 
 conducting military operations, that no enterprise could 
 safely be trusted to his hands. He had acquired some 
 reputation in the Spanish war, and eagerly panted for 
 more ; he stood forward, therefore, as the vehement op- 
 poser of Cecil's propositions for peace ; and his influence 
 over the queen's affections, joined to the other considera- 
 tions which we have mentioned, was sufficient to eounter- 
 act the intentions of the minister. 
 
 Cecil Avas no less interested for the glory of his country 
 than Essex ; but while he felt how much security depends 
 on political reputation, he perceived the folly of attempting 
 
52-14 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 to render a nation glorious by wasting her resources, or 
 great by reducing her to imbecility. He knew that, with 
 the substance, the shadow must disappear ; that, if the re- 
 sources of an empire are exhausted, the reputation founded 
 on them must soon vanish. Averse to the waste of public 
 property, and detesting the wanton effusion of human 
 blood, he could not, without indignation, see both sovereign 
 and people led away by the same passions as Essex, and 
 surrendering the reins of their understandings to the de- 
 lusions of a heated brain. On one occasion, when the 
 question of peace and war was debated in council, Essex 
 proceeded, as usual, to declaim in favor of continuing hos- 
 tilities ; urging that the Spaniards, being a subtle people, 
 ambitious of extending their dominion, implacable enemies 
 to England, bigoted adherents of the pope, and professing 
 that no faith was to be observed with heretics, were inca- 
 pable of maintaining the relations of peace. Cecil, who 
 felt that, if such arguments prevailed, the sword would 
 never be sheathed, could not help indignantly exclaiming, 
 in the midst of this harangue, " that the speaker seemed 
 intent on nothing but blood and slaughter." At the close 
 of the debate, perceiving that his reasoning was of no 
 avail against the impulses of passion, he pulled out a com- 
 mon prayer-book from his pocket, and pointed in silence 
 to the words, "Men of blood shall not live half their 
 days."* He felt that time and experience could alone 
 dispel the delusion ; still he endeavored to accelerate that 
 desirable event, by the publication of a tract, containing 
 his arguments for peace ; these, though disregarded by 
 the multitude, were too distinct and forcible not to impress 
 the reflecting and moderate.f 
 
 In the policy pursued by England towards France, as 
 the passions of men were less interested, the counsels of 
 Cecil were followed, with little deviation. During the 
 short and feeble reign of Francis H., the duke of Guise, 
 with his four brothers, uncles to Mary queen of Scots, had 
 obtained a complete ascendancy in the French government. 
 Powerful from the influence of their house, and dignified 
 by their alliance with the royal family, tlieir talents, joined 
 to a restless, daring ambition, overpowered their antago- 
 nists, and reduced their monarch to a mere instrument in 
 their hands. The recapture of Calais from England, which 
 the duke had unexpectedly effected, procured him unri- 
 valled popularity ; while his standing forth as the leader 
 of the Catholics against the Hugonots, gave him unlimited 
 sway over the most numerous portion of the people. As 
 
 * Camden, p. 608. t Ibid. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 245 
 
 the champion of his faith, he prepared to enforce its adop- 
 tion with fire and sword, and to exterminate Protestantism 
 throughout France. Tlie leaders of the Hugonots flew to 
 arms ; but, from their inadequate resources, they were 
 quickly reduced to extremities, and, in despair, applied to 
 Elizabeth for succor. Her compliance was enforced by 
 the most evident interest, as the ambitious Guise aspired 
 to place his niece Mary on the throne of England as well 
 as of Scotland. A supply of men and money was accord- 
 ingly sent without delay. 
 
 Throughout all the measures of Elizabeth towards the 
 French Hugonots, we perceive the cautious and frugal 
 policy of Cecil. He was of opinion that the French Prot- 
 estants should, from time to time, be furnished with such 
 supplies as might enable them to make head against their 
 enemies ; but that it would be folly to embroil his country 
 further than this object required. France and England had 
 long regarded each other as dangerous rivals ; and he un- 
 derstood human nature too well, to suppose that a change 
 of religion in the government would alter these sentiments. 
 A French sovereign, whether popish or Protestant, would, 
 he knew, be almost equally dangerous to England ; and 
 he deemed it extreme folly in this country to waste her 
 resources in procuring a decided ascendancy to either the 
 insurgent or the royalist faction. 
 
 Such were the maxims which guided the conduct of 
 Elizabeth during the French civil wars. When the Hu- 
 gonots were almost driven to despair, in the minority of 
 Charles IX., she furnished them with some money and 
 troops ; but a part of the money was advanced by way of 
 loan ; and, in return, she obliged her allies to put Havre 
 de Grace into her hands, as a pledge tliat Calais should be 
 restored to the English crown. When the young duke 
 of Guise, at a subsequent period, had begun to emulate 
 the enterprises of his father, and had reduced the Protest- 
 ants to extreme distress, she again revived their spirits 
 by timely assistance ; but it consisted merely in exciting 
 the Protestant German princes to their support ; in lending 
 them a sum of money, for which the jewels of the queen 
 of Navarre were deposited with her in pledge ; and in per- 
 mitting a hundred gentlemen volunteers to pass over into 
 France, where they fought at their own charge.* 
 
 The massacre of St. Bartholomew, in which the court 
 of France butchered such multitudes of their unsuspect- 
 ing Protestant subjects, naturally excited the horror of all 
 
 * Camden, p. 423. 
 
 21* 
 
iM6 
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 the Protestant states of Europe. The English, fired with 
 indignation, eagerly expected to see iheir government 
 stand forward to avenge the rights of religion and humani- 
 ty ; and so earnest were the nobility and gentry in the 
 cause, that they offered to levy an army of 20,000 foot and 
 10,000 horse, to transport them to France, and maintain 
 them at their own expense.* But Elizabeth, instructed 
 by her wise counsellors, perceived too well the conse- 
 quences of such a crusade, to second the hasty resentment 
 of her subjects. She was aware that an attack on France, 
 to be effectual, would require such a waste of resources as 
 must enfeeble the nation, and render abortive all the fru- 
 gal measures of her reign ; that Charles and Philip, from 
 a similarity of malignant passions, had formed a close 
 union ; that, against such a combination, the success of 
 her utmost efforts in behalf of the French Protestants was, 
 at best, very doubtful ; that the only certain effect of an 
 attack on France would be to exasperate that nation, and 
 exhaust her own, and thus render Charles and Philip both 
 more eager and more able to accomplish her destruction. 
 But while she prudently dissembled her indignation till 
 a more favorable opportunity, by her secret pecuniary 
 aids to the Hugonots svlie enabled them again to take the 
 field against Charles, and to procure from his successor, 
 Henry III., conditions comparatively favorable.f 
 
 When the gallant king of Navarre was afterwards 
 called to the throne of France, she openly assisted him 
 against that formidable league of the Catholics, which 
 threatened ruin to them both. The apprehended desertion 
 of his Swiss and German auxiliaries she prevented by a 
 gift of 22,000/., a greater sum, as he declared, than he had 
 ever before seen; and she added a reinforcement of 4000 
 men, to whose valor he owed some important successes. 
 A body of Spanish forces having been introduced into 
 Britany, she furnished 3000 men to hasten the expulsion 
 of these dangerous neighbors ; but stipulated that her 
 charges should be repaid her in a twelvemonth, or as soon 
 as the enemy was expelled.| She afterwards sent another 
 
 * Digges, p. 335. t Camden, p. 452. 
 
 I Camden, p. .561. When we compare these diminutive aids with the 
 immense armaments sent to the assistance of allies in the present times, we 
 may be surprised to hear Burleigh extolling the liberality of Elizabeth on 
 this occasion, as something nltogethor extraordinary. Alluding, in a letter 
 to our envoy in France, to this body of auxiliaries under sir John Norris, he 
 adds — "and besides tliat, her majesty hath presently sent away certain of her 
 ships of war, under the charge of sir Henry Palmer, with the number of 
 a thousand men or thereabouts, to serve upon the coast ofBretagne against 
 tJie Spaniards and against the Leaguers : thereby her majesty's charges 
 grow daily so great, as the French king hath great cause to acknowledge 
 ner majesty's goodness towards him, bcyovd all other friendships that M 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 247 
 
 reinforcement of 4000 men to effect this object, which 
 proved of great difficulty. Finally, she formed an alliance 
 with the French king-, in which it was agreed that they 
 should make no peace with Phihp but by common con- 
 sent ; that she should assist Henry with a reinforcement 
 of 4000 men ; and that he, in return, should refund her 
 charges in a twelvemonth, employ a body of troops in aid 
 of her forces in expelling the Spaniards from Britany, and 
 consign into her hands a seaport of that province for a re- 
 treat to the English.* On various occasions she advanced 
 him sums to the amount of 100,000/., but always in the 
 form of a loan : and when, at length, he began to acquire 
 a decided superiority over his enemies, her succors be- 
 came more sparing as his exigencies became less press- 
 ing. 
 
 While Elizabeth thus avoided a waste of her resources, 
 her aid was so efficient, that Henry IV. gratefully attribut- 
 ed his triumph to her assistance. A more liberal distri- 
 bution of her succors would often have been agreeable to 
 him, yet, as he could not but admire a conduct so wise, and 
 dictated by maxims so congenial to his own, he continued 
 her steady and sincere friend to the end of her life. Ac- 
 customed as we have been, in the present age, to see vast 
 expeditions undertaken against our continental enemies, 
 and vast subsidies thrown, without reflection, into the 
 hands of our allies ; we may be apt to look on this policy 
 of Elizabeth's government as timid and ungenerous. Yet, 
 with an expense of men and money almost too trifling to 
 be perceptible, it procured, for England, advantages greater 
 perhaps than would have resulted from mighty armaments 
 and lavish disbursements. Her Protestant allies were not 
 alarmed by the overwhelming succors of an ancient enemy, 
 nor rendered odious in the sight of their countrymen by a 
 too evident dependence on a foreign power. The French 
 people were not roused to any general combination against 
 her from the apprehension of passing under her yoke, or 
 sustaining the dismemberment of their territory. 
 
 The policy which the English government pursued with 
 respect to Scotland, led to some of the most questionable 
 incidents of Elizabeth's reign. That country, narrow and 
 thinly peopled as it was, required the incessant attention 
 of its southern neighbor. England, divided from the rest 
 of the world by stormy seas, on which her own fleets now 
 
 hatJi in the world. And therefore you may do well, when you find oppor- 
 tunity, to notify these so great charges both of her majesty and of her 
 realm, as we may hereafter find thankfulnens both in the king and in hii 
 subjects." Birch's Memoirs of Eliz. vol. i. p. 66. 
 * Rymer, vol. xvi. 
 
248 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 began to ride triumphant, could not be assailed without 
 the most imminent hazard. As a foreign enemy, sur- 
 rounded by an uncertain element, and annoyed by her 
 fleets, which might eventually cut off both his supplies 
 and his retreat, could hope for safety only from her entire 
 subjugation ; the preparations requisite for such an enter- 
 prise would be too vast to be long concealed, and too pro- 
 tracted to be completed before her plans for defence 
 should be matured. But against Scotland she was aided 
 by no such bulwark : in that country stood an array of 
 combatants, dexterous in regular warfare, and separated 
 from her only by a fordable river, or an imaginary line ; 
 they might assemble and invade her in force, before the 
 news of their approach could reach the seat of government. 
 Even if her hasty levies should succeed in repelling the 
 incursion, still the enemy might retire to his own country, 
 loaded with booty, and secure from pursuit ; Avhile the loss 
 of a battle might expose all her northern counties to de- 
 vastation. 
 
 These, the permanent dangers from an enemy in the 
 north, were at this time increased by circumstances of 
 great importance. Since Mary, the youthful queen of 
 Scotland, had espoused the heir apparent to the throne of 
 France, the counsels and energies of both these countries 
 were under the control of her ambitious maternal uncles, 
 the princes of Lorraine. The enterprises which these 
 daring leaders had planned, led them to exert the whole 
 of their power in attempting to dethrone Elizabeth. They 
 had founded their plans on standing forth as the cham- 
 pions of the church, and leaders of the Catholic league ; 
 while the power of Elizabeth formed the great bulwark of 
 the Protestants. Nor did their means seem inadequate to 
 the mighty undertaking of subverting her throne, and ac- 
 quiring the uncontrolled sway of the three kingdoms. 
 The title of their niece, Mary, to the throne of England 
 was accounted preferable to that of Elizabeth, by all good 
 Catholics, who held the marriage of Henry with Catharine 
 to be indissoluble, unless by the authority of the pope. 
 The portion of the English people which still adhered to 
 tlie Romish communion was considerable, while the favor- 
 ers of the reformation in Scotland seemed as yet no ways 
 formidable. If heresy could there be checked in the bud, 
 and the whole Scottish nation rendered the partisans of 
 their cause, the princes of Lorraine had grounds for ex- 
 pectations by no means chimerical. From France, from 
 Spain, and the other countries which abetted the Catholic 
 league, they might hope to pour into Scotland such a body 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 249 
 
 of disciplined troops, as, uniting with the natives, and en- 
 tering England on her defenceless side, should disperse 
 the raw levies of Elizabeth, and place their niece on her 
 throne. 
 
 These intentions were manifested by the first moiii'- 
 ments in the gigantic plan. No sooner was the death of 
 Mary of England announced in France, than the queen 
 of Scots and her husband endeavored to keep alive the 
 hopes of their partisans by assuming the arms and title of 
 king and queen of England. This parade proved rather 
 injurious than useful to the projects of the house of Guise, 
 by discovering their designs, and putting their enemies 
 on their guard ; but more energetic measures were, in 
 conformity to their counsels, adopted by their sister, the 
 queen dowager and regent of Scotland. That princess, 
 naturally moderate and politic, had hitherto pursued a sys- 
 tem so mild and conciliating, as had, in a great measure, 
 lulled the dangerous dissensions of her country. Now, 
 however, from an undue subserviency to the designs of 
 her brothers, the fatal error of her character, she began to 
 attempt the extirpation of Protestantism, by mingling a 
 cruelty which should have shocked her humanity, with a 
 faithlessness from which her moral feelings ought to have 
 revolted. The sufferers at length betook themselves to 
 arms ; but the vigor and dexterity of the regent, support- 
 ed by a body of veteran French troops, soon compelled 
 them to implore assistance from the common protectress 
 of the reformation. 
 
 There w«-e certain circumstances which rendered Eliz- 
 abeth much less forward in their support than her interest 
 seemed to demand. The principles of the Scottish Prot- 
 estants, especially in regard to the form of worship, went 
 far beyond her ideas of reformation ; and the strong tinc- 
 ture of republicanism which appeared in their politics ren- 
 dered them, in her eyes, suspected and dangerous. To 
 abet rebellious subjects, is always a delicate undertaking 
 for sovereigns ; but in a country so closely connected 
 with her own, by vicinity, language, and manners, it 
 seemed most unsafe to encourage the supporters of those 
 civil and religious principles, which, at home, all her au- 
 thority was employed to suppress.* To these dissuasives, 
 her love of economy gave additional force ; since it was 
 manifest that the necessities of the Scots would require 
 considerable supplies, while their poverty l«ft her no hope 
 of reimbursement. 
 
 * Elizabeth's Letter to the Earl of Bedford, in Appendix, No. XIII., to 
 Robertson's Scotland. 
 
250 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 It was, we are informed, by the representations of Cecil 
 that she at length permitted these considerations to give 
 way to others still more urgent and important. Two pa- 
 pers, written with his own hand, and still preserved, con- 
 Kjn the reasonings in which he explained to the queen 
 and her council the propriety and necessity of interfering 
 in the affairs of Scotland.* Setting out with the principle 
 that every society has a right to provide for its security, 
 both against present and future dangers, and to turn against 
 its enemies the means employed by them for its annoyance, 
 he proceeds to show, that the safety of England could be 
 secured only by sending powerful and immediate assist- 
 ance to the Scottish Protestants. Elizabeth felt the force 
 of these arguments ; but her first succors, consisting in 
 some small remittances of money, were so inadequate, as 
 to produce no effect in favor of her friends. Afterwards, 
 however, when Scotland could not otherwise be rescued 
 from entire subjugation by her enemies, she formed with 
 the Protestants a league offensive and defensive ; sent a 
 powerful fleet to guard the Forth against reinforcements 
 from France, and, by the aid of a land force, enabled the 
 Scots to drive the French from the field, and besiege them 
 in their last refuge at Leith. 
 
 This timely and vigorous effort, in support of the Scot- 
 tish Protestants, led to a treaty, in which Cecil and Dr. 
 Wotton, the plenipotentiaries of Elizabeth, partiy from 
 their talents, partly from the desperate situation of their 
 enemies, procured the most advantageous terms for their 
 allies. The Scottish parliament, of which the great ma- 
 jority now adhered to the reformed faith, obtained almost 
 the whole direction of public affairs. It was stipulated, 
 that this assembly should meet and act with the same full 
 powers as if formally convoked by the sovereign ; that, 
 during the absence of their young queen, the administra- 
 tion should be vested in twelve commissioners, of which 
 the queen should select seven, and the parliament five, 
 out of twenty-four persons named by the parliament ; that, 
 without the consent of this assembly, neither war should 
 be declared nor peace concluded ; that the French troops 
 should be immediately removed to their own country, and 
 the fortresses of Leith and Dunbar, then in their posses- 
 sion, demolished ; that in future no foreign troops should 
 be introduced, and no fort erected, without the permission 
 of parliament ; that no foreigner should hereafter be ad- 
 vanced to any place of trust or dignity in the kingdom ; 
 and that there should be a general act of amnesty for those 
 
 * Burnet, vol. iii. Appendix. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 251 
 
 who had opposed the measures of government. The se- 
 curity of the Protestant faith was fully provided for by an 
 article which left all matters respecting religion to the de- 
 cision of parliament.* 
 
 The politic moderation of Elizabeth and her ministers 
 was conspicuous in the articles stipulated for England. 
 The English forces as well as the French were to be with- 
 drawn from Scotland ; former treaties were renewed, and 
 the only additional article was, that the right of Elizabeth 
 to the English throne should be formally acknowledged, 
 Mary and her husband ceasing, from thenceforward, to as- 
 sume the title or bear the arms of England. Elizabeth 
 had, indeed, enjoined her plenipotentiaries to demand 
 500,000 crowns, and the restitution of Calais, els a com- 
 pensation for the indignity already oifered to her, by the 
 assumption of her arms and title : but these conditions, 
 to which the French commissioners had no power to agree, 
 were at length referred to future discussion.f 
 
 At so small an expense, and with an exertion so trivial, 
 compared to the magnitude of the object, did the English 
 government, by its vigor and sagacity, succeed in giving 
 a complete ascendancy to its Protestant allies in Scotland. 
 And when the Catholic religion was abolished, and the 
 reformed established by law, that country, instead of 
 atfording particular facilities to the enemies of Elizabeth, 
 became a new bulwark to her throne. 
 
 The return of Mary to Scotland, and her assumption of 
 the reins of government, led to plans of policy, in which 
 the passions of Elizabeth interfered so much with the dic- 
 tates of her understanding, and the counsels of her min- 
 isters, that we are bewildered amidst the effects of an 
 irresolution, duplicity, and contradiction, which her usual 
 systematic procedure does not prepare us to expect. The 
 unfortunate Mary undertook the administration of her 
 kingdom in circumstances where the sagacity of expe- 
 rience and the coolness of age could scarcely have con- 
 ducted to a successful issue the delicate interests com- 
 mitted to youth and indiscretion. Her subjects, still in 
 the ferment of a religious revolution, entertained violent 
 prejudices against their sovereign. It was fresh in their 
 recollection, that the cruel persecutions from which they 
 had just escaped were carried on at the instigation of 
 Mary's uncles, and under the authority of her mother ; 
 and they knew that plans were concerted by the house 
 of Guise for the final extirpation of the Protestant religion. 
 
 * Keith, 137. Rymer, vol. xv. p. 593. 
 
 t See Letter of Elizubeth to Cecil and Wotton, in Lodge's Illustrations 
 of British History, vol. i. p. 338. 
 
252 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Unfortunately they had too strong reasons to suspect that 
 their queen, devoted to popery and to the will of her 
 uncles, would not scruple to concur in the most dangerous 
 designs. Stimulated by these considerations, they scru- 
 tinized every step of her conduct with the most jealous 
 care : and as the rudeness of manners in that age had 
 been heightened by the convulsions and dangers of a 
 revolution, they treated her with a harshness, which, in 
 her eyes, might well appear indignity to a sovereign, and 
 brutality to a woman. 
 
 Mary, educated in the polished, gay, and arbitrary court 
 of France, was equally shocked witii the coarseness of 
 the Scots, the moroseness of their manners, and the re- 
 publican principles which they had imbibed with their new 
 religion. Nor were her more serious thoughts less out- 
 raged than her taste. While scarcely allowed to exer- 
 cise, in her private chapel, those rites to which she was 
 fondly attached, she daily heard them treated with insult- 
 ing contumely, and herself reproached as a deluded and 
 desperate idolatress. With a spirit too high and with 
 passions too lively to submit to such mortification, or to 
 win the confidence of her people by a train of prudent 
 and conciliating measures, she endeavored, in the conver- 
 sation and amusements of a few favorite domestics, to re- 
 call her former scenes of enjoyment, and to lose the 
 recollection of her present hardships. But, by a peculiar 
 infelicity, the attachments of Mary were more fatal to her 
 happiness than even her aversions ; and the unworthy 
 objects on whom her affection was successively fixed 
 proved the principal means of precipitating her ruin. By 
 her choice of a youth whose head and heart were no less 
 defective than his external appearance was captivating, a 
 Catholic in his creed, and a libertine in his morals, she 
 shocked the pious, and alienated the wise :* and when her 
 infatuated fondness was soon succeeded by unconquerable 
 aversion, the change was attributied, not to the return of 
 reason, but the fickleness of passion. The confidence 
 and familiarity with which she distinguished an unworthy 
 minion seemed to argue a strango depravity of taste ; 
 which her enemies readily accounted for by supposing a 
 still stranger depravity of morals. But when, in opposi- 
 tion to the united voice of her subjects, to all laws divine 
 and human, she bestowed her afiections on the murderer 
 of her husband, screened him from the vengeance of out- 
 raged justice, and made him the partaker of her bed and 
 
 * See Letter from Randolph to Leicester, in Appendix XL to Robertson's 
 Scotland. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 253 
 
 her authority, the indignation of her subjects could no 
 longer be kept within the bounds of allegiance. They 
 took up arms against her, formally deposed her from the 
 sovereignty, and finally compelled her to seek for refuge 
 in England. 
 
 During these transactions, the interference of the Eng- 
 lish government was hesitating, indecisive, and contradic- 
 tory. The confidential ministers of Elizabeth, strongly 
 tinctured with the religious opinions of the Scottish reform- 
 ers, and looking on the ascendancy of Mary as the chief 
 source of danger to their government, appear to have been 
 unanimously of opinion that the Scottish Protestants 
 ought to be supported ; and their queen, if not dethroned, 
 at least involved in perpetual difficulties. Had Elizabeth 
 consulted merely her personal feelings towards Mary, her 
 measures would have been no less hostile than the coun- 
 sels of her ministers. Her resentment against a compet- 
 itor who had assumed her title, and affected to consider 
 her birth as illegitimate, was aggravated by hatred of a 
 rival who eclipsed her in those personal charms of which 
 she was no less tenacious than of her sovereignty. The 
 animosity thus fostered in her breast became apparent on 
 various occasions. When Mary, on her return from 
 France to her own dominions, solicited a safe-conduct 
 from Elizabeth, this request, although a mere matter of 
 complaisance, was refused by the latter, with an ill-humor 
 which seemed to indicate very unfriendly intentions.* In 
 the same manner, every overture for the marriage of the 
 Scottish queen was industriously counteracted by her 
 jealous neighbor ; and when Darnley at length became 
 the object of her choice, Elizabeth reproached her with 
 this majriage, as with a crime against herself and her 
 government. Nor did Mary take any measures to con- 
 ciliate a rival whom she looked on as the usurper of her 
 rights, and the enemy of her person and religion. She 
 refused to ratify that article of the treaty of Edinburgh 
 by which she was bound to renounce her claims to the 
 English throne ; and she occasionally expressed her in- 
 dignation, with more frankness than prudence, against the 
 ill-concealed malignity of Elizabeth.} 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding her personal animosity to Mary, 
 the queen of England was far from entering cordially into 
 the views of the Scottish Protestants. Their tenets, both 
 civil and religious, so nearly allied to those of her own 
 puritans, were the object of her decided aversion ; their 
 
 * See Appendix VI. to Robertson's Scotland. t Keith, App. 159. 
 
 VOL. I. 22 
 
254 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 ascendancy was the last means by which she wished the 
 humiliation of her rival. The imprudent attachments, 
 and the consequent unpopularity and ignominy of the 
 Scottish queen, probably afforded her more satisfaction 
 than regret ; and it appears that her ambassadors, of them- 
 selves well inclined to the task, were encouraged in fo- 
 menting the dissensions between the court and the people 
 of Scotland. But when the " Congregation " proceeded to 
 try their sovereign for the crimes of which she was accused, 
 and to deprive her of her throne and her liberty in conse- 
 quence of their own award, the high monarchical sentiments 
 of Elizabeth were alarmed. She sternly demanded an ex- 
 planation of their presumptuous conduct ; and as their re- 
 publican justification was even more offensive to her than 
 their measures, she endeavored by threats to procure the 
 release and restoration of their sovereign. She seems even 
 to have formed the resolution of attempting this object by 
 force of arms, in opposition to the strenuous remonstrances 
 of Cecil and her other ministers, who represented the danger 
 of employing her arms to crush her most useful friends, 
 and reinstate her mortal enemy. So thoroughly were the 
 Scottish Protestants convinced of her alienation from their 
 interests, that they refused her ambassador admittance to 
 their captive queen, and prepared to support themselves 
 by other alliances. Already had their overtures been fa- 
 vorably received by the French, who made no scruple of 
 abandoning Mary, provided they could maintain their 
 ascendancy in Scotland ; and the English resident had 
 repeatedly warned his court of this danger, inevitable, 
 unless Elizabeth should alter her conduct towards the 
 Scottish Protestants.* 
 
 The escape of Mary from confinement, and her subse- 
 quent retreat into England, produced a new course of 
 policy on the part of Elizabeth. Her confidential minis- 
 ters, more alive to the supposed interests of their country 
 and religion than to the dictates of generosity, seem to 
 have been unanimously of opinion, that the Scottish 
 queen, instead of being aided by Elizabeth against her 
 subjects, should, under specious pretences, be detained in 
 a lasting captivity .f Her enmity to the Protestant religion, 
 and to Elizabeth, they considered implacable ; and were 
 
 * See a Letter from sir Nicholas Throgmorton to Cecil, in Appendix 
 XXI. to Robertson's Scotland. Also from the same to queen Elizabeth, 
 ibid. 
 
 t Lodge, vol. ii. p. 4, 5. See a remarkable letter from the earl of Sus- 
 sex to Cecil, written so early after the flight of Mary as the 2:2d of October, 
 1568, and containing an urgent exhortation to that very policy which was 
 afterwards pursued with regard to her. A iso the deliberations of Cecil on 
 the same suDject. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 255 
 
 she restored by the arras of England to her throne, she 
 would not, they thought, scruple to turn her regained 
 authority against her benefactors. On the other hand, 
 her detention would give the English government a com- 
 plete control over the affairs of Scotland ; for the Scottish 
 Protestants would not fail to respect her will while she 
 had their queen in her hands, and could punish them by 
 restoring an exasperated sovereign to their throne. Nor 
 did they see how these advantages could be attained by a 
 procedure less harsh than the captivity of Mary. To re- 
 fuse her an asylum would be replete with danger ; that 
 high-spirited princess would not fail to raise France and 
 Spain in her cause ; to procure from their willing ambition 
 large forces for her restoration : and, stimulated both by 
 ancient and recent animosities, to employ her recovered 
 power in hostility to England. 
 
 These representations produced a powerful impression 
 on Elizabeth, confirmed as they were by certain peculiar- 
 ities in the situation of her rival, which admitted of severe 
 measures being taken against her, without compromising 
 the cause of sovereigns, or exciting general indignation 
 against herself. Mary was accused of a crime horrible to 
 mankind, — participation in the murder of her husband ; 
 and her marriage with his reputed murderer had impressed 
 a belief of her guilt, not easily to be effaced. While she 
 labored under the general indignation, her detention 
 would be applauded by many, and warmly resented by 
 none. On the other hand, the throne, if upheld as a 
 sanctuary for such crimes, would become odious in the 
 eyes of all ; and Elizabeth, in supporting such a tenet, 
 would weaken her own authority while she outraged the 
 feelings of mankind. 
 
 These considerations made Elizabeth determine to de- 
 tain the Scottish queen, not as a royal guest, who had 
 come to claim her protection, but as a prisoner brought 
 by happy accident into her power. From this commence- 
 ment her hatred to Mary progressively increased by a va- 
 riety of causes. Conscious that the detention of Mary 
 was a new source of resentment, the commission of the 
 injury became a cause for its aggravation. Deriving, 
 from the ill-advised concessions and subsequent retracta- 
 tions of the Scottish queen, a semblance of right to judge 
 in her cause, and a color for assuming her guilt as un- 
 deniable, both she and her people came gradually to 
 regard the captive less as a sovereign princess than as a 
 criminal subject of England. The mind of Elizabeth was 
 perpetually agitated by the apprehension of her prisoner's 
 
356 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 escape, and more than once by the discovery of conspira- 
 cies, which Mary incautiously countenanced. All tJiese 
 proved new incentives to her hatred, and prompted her to a 
 measure from which her tenderness for the rights of sove- 
 reigns would at first have made her revolt with horror. 
 
 From the letters and the conduct of Elizabeth in regard 
 to Mary, we perceive that she aimed at two irreconcilable 
 objects. She longed for the destruction of her dangerous 
 prisoner, and she no less earnestly desired to have it ac- 
 complished without her apparent concurrence or conni- 
 vance. She seems to have long hoped that Mary would 
 sink under the rigors of her confinement, or fall a sacri- 
 fice to the discontent of her keeper. The earl of Shrews- 
 bury, to whose custody she was intrusted, was subjected 
 to great restraint and privation. Although entirely devot- 
 ed to Elizabeth, and sufficiently willing to deprive Mary 
 of every enjoyment,* his disposition was rendered still 
 more narrow and intractable, by the severe and ungenerous 
 usage which he experienced from his sovereign. The 
 allowances which he received for the maintenance of the 
 queen of Scots were so inadequate, that the deficiency 
 impaired his private fortune ; and after many years of this 
 unprofitable charge, when he at length expected some 
 signal mark of royal bounty, to his inexpressible astonish- 
 ment and mortification, he received an order from court by 
 which his appointments, instead of being increased, were 
 diminished one half.f When the retrenchments, which 
 this strange piece of economy naturally led him to make 
 in the diet and accommodations of Mary, were complained 
 of by the French ambassador, Shrewsbury received a let- 
 ter from court, expressing the displeasure of his queen in 
 strong terms, but containing no intimation that his former 
 allowances would be restored.^ 
 
 Other circumstances concurred to make Shrewsbury dis- 
 satisfied with his charge. As his whole time and atten- 
 tion were occupied in watching over his prisoner, his pri- 
 vate affairs were neglected ; and his tenants, in various 
 parts of the country, taking advantage of his situation, 
 contrived to evade his claims, by involving him in trouble- 
 some lawsuits.§ If he ventured on an excursion from the 
 residence of Mary, he Avas sure to be reminded,|| by a 
 severe reprimand, of his duty.H If a friend happened to 
 
 * See Shrewsbury's letter to lord Burghlcy, in Lodge, vol. ii. p. 68. 
 t Letters from Shrewsbury to lord Burghloy, ibid., vol. ii. p. 244. 270. 
 272. 
 
 Letter from Leicester to Shrewsbury, ibid., vol. ii. p. 253. 
 
 Letter from the eurl of Slirewsbury,'ibid., p. 275. || Ibid. 
 
 Letter from Slircwsbury to the queen, ibid., p. 246. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 257 
 
 pay him a visit, a letter full of insinuations showed him 
 that the jealousy of his sovereign was roused. At length, 
 by a strange excess of severity, his very children were not 
 permitted to visit him ; and he was almost reduced to de- 
 spair, when his earnest entreaties, seconded by the friend- 
 ship of Cecil, and some of the other ministers, procured 
 his release from an intolerable bondage.* 
 
 To sir Amias Paulet, one of the gentlemen to whom the 
 royal prisoner was afterwards committed, Elizabeth seems 
 to have given a much more explicit intimation of her 
 wishes. Paulet had entered into the royal association for 
 bringing to punishment all pretenders to the throne who 
 should attempt her life ; and she seemed to expect that he 
 would rid her of her enemy, without subjecting her to the 
 necessity, which she so earnestly wished to avoid, of ac- 
 tually signing the death-warrantf This gentleman re- 
 fused to be her instrument in so base a deed, which she 
 would have both disavowed and punished ; and no other 
 coUrse remained but to authorize the execution of the sen- 
 tence against Mary : but Elizabeth affected the utmost re- 
 luctance to a step which her parliament and people, who 
 heartily hated and dreaded the queen of Scots, so earnestly 
 pressed. To such a length were her hopes of deceiving 
 mankind by this duplicity carried, that, even after having 
 deliberately signed the warrant, and delivered it to Davi- 
 son, her secretary of state, she pretended, on hearing that 
 it was actually executed, the utmost astonishment, grief, 
 and indignation. Loudly accusing the secretary of having 
 surreptitiously sent off the warrant, in direct opposition to 
 her inclination, she caused the unfortunate man to be sub- 
 jected, on this charge, to a heavy fine, which she levied, 
 to his utter ruin. 
 
 If the part which Cecil bore in these transactions has 
 brought censure on his memory, it brought no less unhap- 
 piness on his mind. His opinion respecting the queen of 
 Scots, and the manner of her treatment, coincided witli 
 those of his colleagues in office. While he looked on her 
 as the most dangerous enemy of his sovereign and his re- 
 ligion, he considered her liberty, and even her life, as 
 scarcely compatible with the safety of either. Yet her 
 confinement freed him neitlier from anxiety nor danger ; 
 his vigilance was incessantly occupied in counteracting 
 the plots of her partisans, which aimed to involve himself 
 
 * Letter from Shrewsbury to lord Burghley, in Lodge, vol, ii. p. 247. 
 Letter from the same, p. 248. 
 t Secretary Davison's Apology, in Camden's Annals, p. 545. 
 
 22* 
 
258 BRITISH STATESMEN, 
 
 and his queen in one destruction. Mary even proved a 
 source of disquietude to him, in a way which he could 
 least have expected. Having, from motives of humanity, 
 obtained Elizabeth's reluctant consent that the captive 
 queen, whose health hud suffered much from confinement, 
 should be carried to Buxton Wells for her recovery,* he 
 happened, during her stay there, to visit the same place 
 for the relief of his own complaints. His jealous sove- 
 reign, connecting this accidental meeting with his frequent 
 applications to mitigate the severities practised against 
 Mary (for he was averse to all unnecessary harshness), 
 conceived the strange suspicion that he had a private 
 understanding with the queen of Scots, and had repaired 
 to Buxton for the purpose of maturing some treacherous 
 project.! Nor was this chimerical surmise the transient 
 apprehension of a moment. On his return to court, he 
 was charged by Elizabeth with this imaginary intrigue, in 
 terms most injurious to his tried fidelity ; and he found it 
 prudent to decline a match between his daughter and the 
 son of the earl of Shrewsbury, the keeper of Mary, and 
 the supposed agent in their secret negotiations.^ 
 
 But while thus strangely suspected by Elizabeth, Cecil 
 was, above all others, obnoxious to the partisans of Mary. 
 Having been the chief means of discovering and over- 
 throwing the conspiracies of Norfolk, he was reproached 
 as the cause of that popular nobleman's death ; though the 
 repetition of the duke's treasonable attempts, after he had 
 once been pardoned, seemed to render him no fit object of 
 royal clemency. To consider Cecil as his private enemy 
 seems altogether unfair. He was instrumental in procur- 
 ing the pardon of Norfolk after his first offence ; he en- 
 deavored, by salutary counsels, to dissuade him from the 
 prosecution of his pernicious schemes ; and, in some of 
 his writings, which still remain, he laments the infatuation 
 of his grace, which rendered all good subjects his public 
 enemies, however they might respect his private virtues.^ 
 Yet the whole odium of Norfolk's death was thrown on 
 him ; and the general reproach was countenanced by the 
 unblushing duplicity of Elizabeth. That princess, though 
 she had authorized the execution without any reluctance, 
 was anxious to have it believed that she had only yielded 
 to the importunities of Cecil. The minister was, for some 
 time after, treated as a person who had deluded her into 
 an act repugnant to her nature ; and he was not received 
 
 * Letter from Cecil to Shrewsbury, in Lodge, vol. ii. p. 111. 
 t Ibid. p. 130. X ibid. 
 
 $ Camden, p. 255. Lloyd's State Worthies, p. 510. Burleigh's Medita- 
 tion on the Reign of Elizabeth, &c. 
 
LORB BURLEIGH. 259 
 
 again into her presence and favor until she thought that 
 appearances were sufficiently satisfied. But he had yet 
 to connect a private and deeper affliction with the fate of 
 Norfolk. One of Cecil's daughters was unfortunately mar- 
 ried to a profligate husband, the earl of Oxford : that young 
 nobleman, much attached to Norfolk, threatened his father- 
 in-law, that, unless he would undertake to procure the duke's 
 pardon, he would do all in his power to ruin his daughter. 
 This threat he executed with inhuman punctuality ; and 
 after having deserted her bed, and squandered his fortune 
 in the most abandoned courses, he brought, by a train of 
 barbarous usage, his innocent victim to an untimely 
 grave.* 
 
 The selfish Elizabeth felt no remorse in attempting to 
 load Cecil with the odium of the execution of Mary, as 
 well as of Norfolk. He appears to have had no greater 
 share in advising it than the other ministers : but as he 
 was accounted a principal enemy of the queen of Scots, 
 Elizabeth judged that an imputation against him would be 
 most readily received ; and, with this ungenerous view, 
 she banished him from her presence, and treated him with 
 all the harshness due to an unfaithful counsellor. Cecil 
 appears, on this occasion, to have been seriously alarmed ; 
 ministers were not, in that age, protected against the 
 crown, and the misfortunes of secretary Davison, then 
 passing before his eyes, proved to him that, if Elizabeth 
 should account a further sacrifice necessary for her pur- 
 poses, little was to be expected either from her justice or 
 gratitude. But, as the sincerity of her indignation had 
 been testified sufficiently for political purposes by the ruin 
 of Davison, and as the services of Cecil were too useful 
 to be dispensed with, she suffered herself to be at length 
 mollified, and received him again into favor.f 
 
 We have now taken a survey of the part acted by Cecil 
 in regard to religion, to domestic and to foreign policy. 
 A striking characteristic, and one hardly ever possessed 
 to an equal degree by other statesmen, was a uniformity 
 in his plans, the result of a mind always cool and deliber- 
 ate, seldom blinded by prejudice, and never precipitated 
 by passion. On some occasions we may dissent from his 
 opinion, and in a few we may suspect the qualities of his 
 heart ; but, in general, we must allow that the measures 
 which Elizabeth pursued in opposition to his sentiments 
 were the chief defects of her government ; while those 
 which she adopted in conformity to his counsels produced 
 the boasted prosperity and glory of lier reign. 
 
 * Dugdale's Baronage, vol. ii. p. 169. t Strypo'a Annals, vol. iii. p. 370. 
 
260 BRBTlsn STATESMEN. 
 
 It has long since been observed, that the most success- 
 ful statesman is scarcely an object of envy ; that his pre- 
 eminence is dearly purchased by unceasing disquietudes, 
 and that his honors are an inadequate compensation for 
 his mortifications and dangers. While nations, like indi- 
 viduals, are liable to be agitated by violent passions, and 
 misled by false views of interest, the advocate of modera- 
 tion and peace is often the object of popular reproach. 
 Such was not unfrequently the case of Cecil. So wildly 
 were the minds of men possessed with the prospect of 
 military glory and Mexican gold, that his opposition to the 
 continuance of the Spanish war subjected him even to 
 personal danger from the populace. The more violent 
 among the clergy, because he attempted to restrain their 
 persecuting spirit, reviled him as a puritan in disguise, as 
 a secret enemy to the church ; while the more zealous 
 dissenters were no less suspicious of his endeavors to per- 
 suade them into conformity. From his supposed influence 
 in public affairs, the enemies of government were also his 
 personal enemies. The friends of Mary queen of Scots, 
 and the partisans of the popish religion, regarded him as 
 their capital foe ; and not satisfied with incessantly defam- 
 ing him by libeJs, they attempted more than once to take 
 him off by assassination. In one of these attempts, for 
 which two Eissassins were executed, the Spanish ambassa- 
 dor was suspected to have been concerned, and was, in 
 consequence, ordered to depart the kingdom. 
 
 His influence with Elizabeth exposed him to equal ha- 
 tred from the majority of the courtiers. The earl of Lei- 
 cester was at the head of all the intrigues against him, 
 and made, on one occasion, a bold effort to accomplish his 
 ruin. In concert with the principal courtiers, he planned 
 that Cecil should be unexpectedly accused before the privy 
 council, arrested without the knowledge of the queen, 
 and immediately sent to the Tower. When thus re- 
 moved from the queen's presence, abundance of accusa- 
 tions, it was imagined, might be procured to elicit her 
 consent to his trial and condemnation.* This plot had 
 nearly readied its accomplishment, and Cecil was resist- 
 ing his accusers in the privy council with very little effect, 
 when Elizabeth, who had been privately informed of the 
 design, suddenly entered the room, and addressed, to the 
 astonished counsellors, one of those appalling reprimands 
 which were more distinguished for vigor than delicacy.f 
 
 As a compensation for these disquietudes, and a recom- 
 pense for his services, we should not be surprised to find 
 
 * Life of W^illiam Lord Burjhloy, p. 19. \ Camden'i AnuaU Eliz. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 261 
 
 Cecil loaded with the favors of his sovereign. But that 
 princess was proverbially frugal of her rewards. Her love 
 of economy was frequently carried to a blamable excess, 
 and her confidential ministers abridged of the means to 
 serve her with advantage. There remain various letters 
 of sir Francis Walsingham, complaining of his being wholly 
 unable, on his scanty appointments, to support his estab- 
 lishment, though very inadequate to his quality of am- 
 bassador in France.* Other ministers had equal reason 
 for complaint ; and there were many more fortunes spent 
 than made in her service. In the distribution of honors 
 her frugality was no less conspicuous, and could be ascribed 
 only to sound policy, uninfluenced by meaner motives. 
 Aware that titles, unless accounted indicative of real merit 
 in those on whom they were bestowed, would cease to 
 confer distinction, she distributed them with a careful and 
 sparing hand ; and the honors of the earl of Leicester af- 
 ford perhaps a solitary instance, in her reign, of a title 
 acquired without desert. A title from Elizabeth was con- 
 sequently a real reward, and was deemed an adequate 
 retribution for the most important services. 
 
 If Cecil was better rewarded than the other ministers, 
 we must own that his claims were greater ; and we shall 
 find that the favors which he received were neither hastily 
 bestowed, nor carried beyond his merits. In consequence 
 of his efforts in repressing the rebellion which attended 
 the duke of Norfolk's first conspiracy, he was created a 
 baron, the highest title he ever attained. The other fa- 
 vors which he received, consisting in ofiicial situations, 
 could hardly be denominated rewards, since they brought 
 him additional business, which he executed with punc- 
 tuality and diligence. After concluding the treaty of 
 Edinburgh, he was appointed master of the wards, an office 
 in virtue of which he had to preside in the court of wards, 
 and to determine a variety of questions between the sove- 
 reign and the subject. Eleven years afterwards, lord 
 Burleigh (such was his new title) was raised to the office 
 of lord high treasurer, which, along with great dignity, 
 brought him an immense addition of complicated business. 
 An accumulation of offices in the hands of one man natu- 
 rally led to much envy, and was certainly a very blamable 
 precedent ; but the fidelity and ability with which he exe- 
 cuted their duties must, in his case, alleviate the censure 
 of posterity. 
 
 Lord Burleigh continued minister during a period of 
 unexampled length, and in an age when men in office were 
 
 * Harlcian MSS. in British Museum, No. 260. 
 
262 
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 exposed to the rudest assaults of faction and intrieue. To 
 investigate the means by which he maintained his station 
 cannot fail to be instructive, devoid as they were of the 
 craft and subtlety so frequently connected with the name 
 of politician. The arts to which he owed his success 
 were not less honorable than skilful, and would have raised 
 him to influence and reputation in the walks of private 
 life. For nothing was he more remarkable than for his 
 unremitting diligence and scrupulous punctuality. What- 
 ever the engagements of others, whether the pursuit of 
 pleasure or the cabals of the court, Burleigh was always 
 found at his post, intensely occupied with the duties of 
 ofiice and the cares of government. A young courtier of 
 those times, while describing the intrigues with which all 
 around him were busied, observes, "My lord treasurer, 
 even after the old manner, dealeth with matters of state 
 only, and beareth himself very uprightly."* The degree 
 of his industry may be estimated from its effects, which 
 were altogether wonderful. As principal secretary of state, 
 and for a considerable time as sole secretary, he managed 
 a great proportion of the public business, both foreign and 
 domestic : he conducted negotiations, planned expeditions, 
 watched over the machinations of internal enemies, cm- 
 ployed private sources of intelligence, assisted at the de- 
 liberations of the privy council and parliament, and wrote 
 many tracts on the state of affairs. When created lord high 
 treasurer, his concern with the general affairs of govern- 
 ment continued, while he had, moreover, to attend to the 
 receipts and disbursements of the nation, to devise means 
 for replenishing the treasury, and to sit occasionally in 
 the court of exchequer, as judge between the people and 
 the officers of the revenue. As master of the court of 
 wards, he had much judicial occupation during term ; for 
 his equitable decisions brought before him an unusual ac- 
 cumulation of suits. Nor did he neglect those numerous 
 petitions with which he was perpetually importuned, some 
 demanding the reward of services, others imploring the 
 redress of injuries ; and, amidst all these avocations, his 
 private affairs were managed with the same precision 
 as those of the state. 
 
 All this load of business he was enabled, by assiduous 
 application and exact method, to despatch without either 
 hurry or confusion. In conformity to his favorite maxim, 
 that "the shortest way to do many things is to do only one 
 thing at once," he finished each branch of business before 
 
 ♦Letter from Qilbert Talbot to the earl of Shrewsbury, in Lodge, vol. ii. 
 p 100. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 263 
 
 he proceeded to another, and never left a thing undone 
 with the view of recurring to it at a period of more leisure. 
 In the courts where he presided, he despatched as many 
 causes in one term as his predecessors in a twelvemonth.* 
 When pressed with an accumulation of aifairs, which fre- 
 quently happened, he rather chose to encroach on the 
 moderate intervals usually allowed to his meals and his 
 sleep, than to omit any part of his task. Even when 
 laboring under pain, and in danger of increasing his mal- 
 ady, he frequently caused himself to be carried to his 
 office for the despatch of business. An eye-witness as- 
 sures us that, -during a period of twenty-four years, he 
 never saw him idle for half an hour together ;t and if he 
 had no particular task to execute, which rarely happened, 
 he would still busy himself in reading, writing, or meditat- 
 ing.| By incessant practice, he acquired a facility and 
 despatch which seemed altogether wonderful to idle cour- 
 tiers ; it proved of incalculable advantage to government, 
 and to himself it gave a decided superiority over his lesa 
 industrious rivals. 
 
 Next to his unequalled diligence and punctuality we are 
 to rank his invincible reserve, whenever reserve was 
 necessary. While he avoided that system of deception 
 by which statesmen have so often undertaken to gain their 
 ends, he succeeded in concealing his real views, by the 
 mere maintenance of a guarded secrecy. Perfectly im- 
 penetrable to the dexterous agents who were employed to 
 sound him, his unaltered countenance and unembarrassed 
 motions afforded no means to divine the impressions pro- 
 duced on him by any communications. Equally hopeless 
 was the attempt to arrive at his political secrets by pro- 
 curing access to his most intimate friends ; for he had no 
 confidant3.§ "Attempts," he said, "are most likely to 
 succeed when planned deliberately, carried secretly, and 
 executed speedily". || 
 
 The resolution with which he could persevere in his 
 reserve was remarkably exemplified in his silence with 
 respect to the succession to the throne. Three rival 
 families at that time claimed this splendid inheritance, 
 — the houses of Suffolk and Hastings, and the royal line 
 of Scotland : the title of either might have been rendered 
 preferable by an act of parliament. But Burleigh saw the 
 danger of declaring in favor of one or other. All were 
 at present restrained from improper attempts by their ex- 
 pectations ; but if the intentions of the queen were once 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 21. t IWd- P- 24. 
 
 X Ibid. p. 65. $ Ibid. p. 64. || Ibid. p. 69. 
 
264 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 known, the disappointed families might be apt to embrace 
 those violent measures from which alone they could then 
 hope for success. He determined, therefore, to maintain 
 a profound silence on this delicate question ; and the 
 queen, probably in consequence of his counsels, adopted 
 and persevered in the same resolution, in spite of all the 
 remonstrances with which she was assailed. The par- 
 liament often attempted to force a disclosure of her 
 sentiments, and she and her minister found much difficulty 
 in eluding their importunities: yet Burleigh carried his 
 opinion with him to the grave, and Elizabeth disclosed 
 hers only on her deathbed. 
 
 No statesman was ever more distinguished for self-com- 
 mand and moderation. Collected, calm, and energetic in 
 the most critical emergencies, he bore adversity without 
 any signs of dejection, and prosperity without any appar- 
 ent elevation.* Yet his coolness had in it nothing repul- 
 sive ; and his self-command was chiefly exerted in repress- 
 ing angry emotions. In council, he was always the stren- 
 uous advocate of moderate and conciliating measures ;f 
 and it was his particular boast that, notwithstanding the 
 extent of his private as well as his public transactions, he 
 had never sued nor been sued by any man.| He bore the 
 attacks of his opponents without any appearance of re- 
 sentment ; and, in due season, embraced opportunities to 
 promote their interest. When the earl of Leicester, who 
 had always thwarted his measures, and often calumniated 
 his character, at length fell under the queen's displeasure, 
 Burleigh successfully exerted himself to prevent his total 
 loss of favor.§ Nor did he hesitate to form a cordial 
 reconciliation with sir Nicholas Throgmorton, who had 
 long been one of his most dangerous enemies, and who 
 had desisted from his practices only when he found Bur- 
 leigh's power too firmly established to be shaken. Al- 
 though Essex was his avowed and turbulent opponent, yet, 
 when Elizabeth refused some just claim of that nobleman, 
 the lord treasurer supported his cause with so much firm- 
 ness, that the enraged queen at length bestowed on him 
 some of those vehement epithets by which she made her 
 courtiers feel her displeasure. || It was observed that he 
 never spoke harshly of his enemies, nor embraced any 
 opportunity of revenge ; and as he was no less on his 
 
 * Life of VS^illiam Lord Burghley, p. 30. 
 
 t " Win hearts," ho was accustomed to say to the queen, " and you have 
 their hands and purses." Rushworth^s Collections^ vol. i. p. 469. 
 
 t Bacon's Works, vol. iv. p. 372. 
 
 § Letter of Lord Burghley in the Earl of Hardwicke'a Miscellaneous 
 State Papers, vol. i. p. 329. || Birch's Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 147. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 265 
 
 guard to avoid every undue bias from affection, it became 
 a general remark that he was a better enemy than a 
 friend.* "I entertain," he said, "malice against no in- 
 dividual whatever ; and I thank God that I never retired 
 to rest out of charity with any man."f 
 
 Burleigh possessed great discernment in selecting, and 
 great zed in recommending, men of talent for public em- 
 ployments. He seemed resolved that England should be 
 distinguished above all nations for the integrity of her 
 judges, the piety of her divines, and the sagacity of her 
 ambassadors.}: It was he who discovered and brought into 
 office sir Francis Walsingham, so much distinguished 
 among the ministers of Elizabeth for acuteness of pene- 
 tration, extensive knowledge of public affairs, and profound 
 acquaintance with human nature. The department of 
 foreign affairs was long almost exclusively under the 
 management of Burleigh ; and there is perhaps no period 
 in the history of England, in which her intercourse with 
 other countries was committed to such able hands, and in 
 which her ambassadors confessedly excelled those of other 
 nations in diplomatic talents. By this attention to merit, 
 and neglect of interest, the treasurer naturally incurred 
 much obloquy from those whom his penetration caused him 
 to neglect : the nobility, in particular, expressed high dis- 
 pleasure at the preference so often given to the commons, 
 and seemed to think that offices which they could not exe- 
 cute, like honors which they had not earned, should bo 
 entailed on them and their descendants. 
 
 Cecil was never the advocate of compulsory or arbitrary 
 measures. Open discussion, far from being attended with 
 danger, was, in his opinion, the most effectual and innocent 
 means of expending the fury of faction : a forced silence 
 seemed to him only to concentre and aggravate popular 
 resentment. In the courts where he presided, he never 
 gave a judgment without explaining the gi-ounds on which 
 he proceeded :§ in matters of state, he refused to give his 
 opinion, unless where he might bring forward and debate 
 the reasons on which it was founded. || His influence was 
 thus increased by all the weight of reason, and he omit- 
 ted no precaution to give it the sanction of impartiality. 
 The solicitations of those who presumed most on his favor, 
 from the ties of kindred or familiar acquaintance, he re- 
 ceived with such coldness, that they were carefully avoided 
 by those who knew him best, and never by any one re- 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 59. t IWd. 
 
 X Ibid. p. 46. 55. $ Ibid. p. 33. || Ibid. p. 68. 
 
 VOL. I. 23 
 
266 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 peated. If the cause of his friends was tried before him, 
 he gave them rigid justice ; if they sought preferment in 
 the state, he did not obstruct their claims of merit : but he 
 would listen to no application where partiality might blind 
 his judgment, or blemish his integrity.* 
 
 In that age, the eyes of mankind were more strongly 
 dazzled than at present by the splendor of rank ; and a 
 statesman was more likely to promote his views by atten- 
 tions to the great. Yet, with Burleigh, the poor received 
 equal measure with the wealthy, and had their suits as 
 patiently heard, and as speedily determined. Each day 
 in term, it was customary for him to receive from fifty to 
 sixty petitions, all of which he commonly perused and 
 weighed in the course of the evening or night, and was 
 prepared to return an answer next morning, on his way to 
 Westminster Hall. As soon as the petitioner mentioned 
 his name, Burleigh found no difficulty in recollecting his 
 business, and in delivering a reply. When, at length, con- 
 fined to his bed by age and infirmities, and no longer 
 able to attend at the courts, he directed that all petitions 
 should be sent to him under seal ; and, as all were opened 
 in the order in Avhich they arrived, and answers immedi- 
 ately dictated, the lowest petitioner received his reply with 
 the same despatch as the highest.f 
 
 The early and complete intelligence which Burleigh 
 possessed witli regard to secret transactions, both at home 
 and abroad, was spoken of with wonder by his contempo- 
 raries, and enabled him to adopt the promptest measures 
 for counteracting all hostile attempts. At a period when 
 invasion from abroad, and conspiracy at home, were agi- 
 tated by artful intriguers and desperate bigots, it was no 
 season to await, in careless slumber, the developement of 
 events : but while we admire the extent and happy efiects 
 of his intelligence, we must hesitate to applaud the meth- 
 ods by which it was occasionally procured, and consider 
 them as excusable only from the necessity of his situation. 
 Obliged to maintain a number of spies, to reward in- 
 formers, and to bribe accomplices to betray their associ- 
 ates, he might be condemned for resorting to nefarious 
 arts, had they not been indispensable to the public safety, 
 at a period when assassinations were so common, and 
 when the doctrines of mental reservation, and of keeping 
 no faith with heretics, were general tenets among the 
 enemies of government. 
 
 Burleigh, by adhering inflexibly to the rule of living 
 within his means, escaped those pecuniary embarrass- 
 
 * Life of William Lord Bur^rhlcy, p. 58. f Ibid. p. 22, 23. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 267 
 
 ments which often beset his less considerate colleagues. 
 His income, considerable at an early age, became pro- 
 gressively increased by additional offices, and occasionally 
 by the mercantile adventures which, in these days, were 
 usual among men of rank and fortune. It is a curious 
 fact, that he invested large sums in the purchase of lead, 
 for the purpose of re-sale.* Still he was exempt not only 
 from corruption, but from selfishness: for an avaricious 
 man would have made more by his offices in seven years 
 than he made in forty ; and the splendor of his expenses 
 was fully proportioned to his wealth and station.f So far, 
 indeed, did he carry his disinterestedness, as never to raise 
 his rents nor displace his tenants. As the lands were let 
 when he bought them, so they still remained ; and some of 
 his tenants continued to enjoy for 201. a year what might 
 have been leased for 200^| 
 
 The magnificence of his mode of life is to be ascribed 
 partly to policy, but more to the manners of the age, 
 which, as we have seen in the case of the modest and un- 
 ambitious More, made the expense of the great consist 
 chiefly in a number of retainers. Burleigh had four places 
 of residence, at each of which he maintained an establish- 
 ment, his family and suite amounting to nearly a hundred 
 persons. His domestic expenses at his house in London 
 were calculated at forty or fifty pounds a week when he 
 was present, and about thirty in his absence ; princely 
 allowances, when we consider the value of money at that 
 period. His stables cost him a thousand marks a year ; 
 his servants were remarked for the richness of their live- 
 ries. Retaining an appendage of ancient magnificence, 
 which had now been given up, unless by a few noble- 
 men of the first rank and fortune, he kept a regular table, 
 with a certain number of covers for gentleman, and two oth- 
 ers for persons of inferior condition. These, always open, 
 were served alike whether he was present or absent ; and, 
 in con-espondence with this proud hospitality, he had 
 around him many young persons of distinction, who acted 
 as his retainers, and lived in his family. Promotion was 
 not yet attainable by open competition ; the house of a 
 minister was the grand preparatory school ; and Burleigh 
 was under Elizabeth what cardinal Morton had been un- 
 der Henry VH. Among the retainers of Burleigh, there 
 could, we are told, be reckoned, at one time, twenty young 
 gentlemen, each of whom possessed, or was likely to pos- 
 sess, an income of lOOOL; and among his household officers 
 
 ♦ Letter from Gilbert Talbot to the Earl of Shrewsbury, in Lodge, vol. ii. 
 p. 211. t Life of William I^rd Burghley, p. 43. t Ibid. p. 54, 55- 
 
268 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 there were persons who had property to the amount of 
 10,000Z.* His houses were not large, but his equipage and 
 furniture were splendid; his plate is reported to have 
 amounted to 14,000 pounds in weight, and about 40,000/. in 
 value. His public entertainments corresponded with this 
 magnificence. It was customary for Elizabeth to receive 
 sumptuous entertainments from her principal nobility and 
 ministers ; and, on these instances of condescension, Bur- 
 leigh omitted nothing which could show his sense of the 
 honor conferred on him by his royal guest. Besides the 
 short private visits which she often paid him, he entertained 
 her in a formal manner twelve different times, with fes- 
 tivities which lasted several weeks, and, on each occasion, 
 cost him two or three thousand pounds. His seat at Theo- 
 balds, during her stay, exhibited a succession of plays, 
 sports, and splendid devices ; and here she received foreign 
 ambassadors, at the expense of her treasurer, in as royal 
 state as at any of her palaces.f This magnificence, doubt- 
 less, acquired him a considerable ascendancy both at court 
 and among the people ; but it was attended with much envy, 
 and often brought him vexation. At his death he left, be- 
 sides his plate and furniture, 11,000Z. in money, and 4000/. 
 a year in lands, of which he had received only a small por- 
 tion by inheritance.! 
 
 We come next to the interesting topic of his conduct 
 towards Elizabeth, and the deportment of her majesty in 
 return. He was often heard to say, that he thought there 
 never was a woman so wise in all respects as Elizabeth ; 
 that she knew the state of her own and foreign countries 
 better than all her counsellors ; that, in the most difficult 
 deliberations, she would surprise the wisest by the superi- 
 ority of her expedients.§ His services, both before and 
 after her elevation to the throne, were of the most import- 
 ant nature ; for, besides his great qualities as a minister, 
 his vigilance had repeatedly preserved her life, while his 
 fidelity had endangered his own. 
 
 These services were sincerely felt by Elizabeth : with 
 a magnanimity not always to be found among princes, she 
 freely acknowledged her obligations, and demonstrated 
 her gratitude by attentions which, from a sovereign, were 
 the most flattering of rewards. Interesting herself in his 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 40. The writer of the treatise from 
 which these particulars are taken was himeclf one of Lord Burghley's re- 
 tainers, and an eye-witness of all these circumstances. 
 
 t Ibid. p. 37—41. These protracted visits of Elizabeth to her principal 
 courtiers seem to liave had in view economy as well as popularity. She 
 had no objection to honor her subjects by her presence, and she accounted 
 it fair that they should pay for this honor. 
 
 tibid. p. 44. ^Ihid. p. 71. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 269 
 
 domestic concerns, and entering into the joys and sorrows 
 of his family, we find her at one time standing sponsor for 
 one of his children, and, at another, hastening in person 
 to inquire for his daughter in a sudden illness. In pro- 
 moting the marriage of his son with a lady of rank and for- 
 tune, she also took an active part, and visited the lady, in 
 behalf of the suitor. Although extremely jealous of her 
 real authority, Elizabeth had too much sense as well as 
 policy to impede her service by unmeaning forms. When 
 the treasurer, in the latter part of his life, was much afflict- 
 ed with the gout, the queen always made him sit down in 
 her presence, with some obliging expression : " My lord," 
 she would say, " we make use of you, not for your bad legs, 
 but for your good head." When the severity of his illness 
 rendered Mm unable to quit his apartment, she repaired 
 thither with her council to enjoy the benefit of his advice : 
 when his disease assumed a dangerous aspect, she appear- 
 ed in person among the anxious inquirers for his health.* 
 Her majesty was, however, far from being always so 
 accommodating ; and it often required no small degree of 
 patience to bear the effects of her violent passions and 
 unreasonable caprice. The manners of that age were 
 much less refined than those of the present ; yet, even 
 then, it appeared no ordinary breach of decorum in a queen 
 to load her attendants with the coarsest epithets, or to 
 vent her indignation in blows. The style of gallantry, 
 with which she encouraged her courtiers to approach her, 
 both cherished this overbearing temper, and made her ex- 
 cesses be received rather as the ill-humor of a mistress 
 than the affronts of a sovereign. It was customary for her 
 statesmen and warriors to pretend not only loyalty to her 
 throne, but ardent attachment to her person ; and in some 
 of Raleigh's letters, we find her addressed, at the age of 
 sixty, with all the enthusiastic rapture of a fond lover.f 
 To feign a dangerous distemper arising from the influence 
 of her charms was deemed an effectual passport to her 
 favor ; and when she appeared displeased, the forlorn court- 
 ier took to his bed in a paroxysm of amorous desponden- 
 cy, and breathed out his tender melancholy in sighs and 
 protestations. We find Leicester, and some other minis- 
 ters, endeavoring to introduce one Dyer to her favor ; and 
 the means which they employed was to persuade her that 
 a consumption, from which the young man had with diffi- 
 culty recovered, was brought on by the despair with which 
 
 * Birch's Mrmoirs, vol. i. p. 294. 128. I-loyd's State Worthies. 
 t Cayley's Life of Raleigh, p. 127. 134. 4to. edit. 
 
 23* 
 
270 BRitlSH STATESMEN. 
 
 she had inspired him.* Essex, having on one occasion 
 fallen under her displeasure, became exceedingly ill, and 
 could be restored to health only by her sending him some 
 broth, with kind wishes for his recovery. Raleigh, hear- 
 ing of these attentions to his political rival, got sick in his 
 turn,. and received no benefit from any medicine till the 
 same sovereign remedy was applied. With courtiers who 
 submitted to act the part of sensitive admirers, Elizabeth 
 found herself under no restraint : she expected from them 
 the most unlimited compliance, and if they proved refrac- 
 tory, she gave herself up to all the fury of passion, and 
 loaded them with opprobrious epithets. 
 
 Burleigh, by uniformly approaching her with the digni- 
 fied demeanor of a grave and reserved counsellor, was far 
 less liable to such indignities. Yet even on him she some- 
 times vented her chagrin ; and, in moments of sudden vio- 
 lence, seemed to forget his age, his character, and his 
 station. On one occasion, when, in opposition to her wish, 
 he persisted in a resolation to quit the court a few days 
 for the benefit of his health, she petulantly called him a 
 froward old fool ;t and when he ventured, as already has 
 been mentioned, to maintain some claim of the earl of Es- 
 sex, which she had determined to disallow, she wrathfully 
 reproached him as a miscreant and a coward who deserted 
 her cause.l As he had generally to perform the disagree- 
 able task of announcing to her any untoward accidents in 
 the course of her affairs, he was exposed to the first ebul- 
 litions of her chagrin ; and so much, we are told, did the 
 unprosperous event of her plans for the tranquillization of 
 Ireland, in 1594, irritate her mind, that she severely re- 
 proached her aged minister even while he labored under 
 sickness.^ But it was not only hasty bursts of passion 
 that he had to dread : we have seen that, on particular oc- 
 casions, she chose to execute her designs under a veil of 
 consummate hypocrisy ; and made no scruple to shield 
 herself from public reproach by affecting resentment 
 against her ministers for the very acts which had given 
 her the highest gratification. Fortunately for Burleigh, 
 she found means to satisfy appearances, without carrying 
 her injustice to him beyond some temporary indignities. 
 
 These mortifications were aggravated by the obstinacy 
 with which she occasionally opposed his designs. While 
 certain counsellors, from attractions of person and manner, 
 acquired at times an undue influence over her, some of her 
 
 * Letter of Gilbert Talbot to the Earl of Shrewsbury, in Lodffc, vol. ii. 
 p. 101. ' ^ ' 
 
 t Birch's Memoirs of Queen Elizabeth, vol. i. 
 
 t Ibid. vol. ii. p. 148. ^ Ibid. vol. i. p. 1(59 
 
 r. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 271 
 
 passions ' and prejudices Avere too powerful to be counter- 
 acted by his cool and rational suggestions ; and it is al- 
 leged that she more than once rejected his counsels, mere- 
 ly to prove to him that his ascendancy over her was not 
 absolute. 
 
 The even temper of Burleigh enabled him to suffer many 
 of these disgusts with apparent calmness ; yet at times 
 they exceeded his endurance. A very few years after the 
 accession of Elizabeth, we find him already desiring to 
 quit a station in which his toil and mortification were so 
 great.* As he advanced in life, his increasing bodily in- 
 firmities, and some domestic misfortunes which affected 
 him very deeply, made such causes of chagrin more poign- 
 ant ; and he frequently solicited the queen to accept of 
 his resignation. But that princess, though too impetuous 
 to refrain from giving oftence, could not endure to be de- 
 prived of the zeal, industry, and wisdom on which she had 
 so long relied with the most prosperous issue ; and his res- 
 ignation was a theme to which she could never be brought 
 to listen. Laying aside the stateliness of the queen, she 
 undertook to alter his purpose and dispel his chagrin, by 
 assuming the playfulness of the woman. There still re- 
 main several of her letters, in which she so artfully mingles 
 strokes of gratitude and attachment with raillery, that it is 
 no wonder the old statesman should have been moved by 
 these indications of warm interest from his sovereign.f 
 
 The private life of Burleigh may be discussed in a short 
 compass. Hurried along, from an early period of life, 
 amidst affairs too complicated not to require his utmost 
 industry, too important not to engage all his attention, he 
 had very little leisure for domestic enjoyments. His hours 
 of relaxation Avere few, seldom exceeding what was ne- 
 cessary for the refreshment of nature ; and if he at any 
 time indulged in a greater cessation from his public labors, 
 it was chiefly when his bodily infirmities demanded such 
 an intermission with a call not to be refused. 
 
 The principal scene of his amusements was his seat at 
 Theobalds, near London, whither he fled with eagerness 
 to enjoy the short intervals of leisure which he could snatch 
 from public affairs. In these days the buildings had not 
 extended so far ; the house was surrounded with gardens, 
 on which he had expended large sums of money, which 
 were laid out under his own direction, with taste and mag- 
 nificence. Here he was often seen riding up and down 
 the walks on his mule, enjoying the progress of his improve- 
 
 * Letter in Hardwicke'a Miscellaneoua State Papers, vol. i. p. 170. 
 t Strype'a Annals, vol. iv. p. 77. 
 
272 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 ments, or overlooking those who amused themselves by 
 shooting with arrows or playing at bowls ; but he never 
 joined in these or any other diversions. The weakness of 
 his constitution, and more especially the distempers of his 
 feet and legs, disqualified him for active sports, even if he 
 had been led to them by inclination : but his mind seems 
 to have been so thoroughly engrossed by important busi- 
 ness, that he had as little relish as leisure for amusements ; 
 nor did he play at any of those games with which the less 
 busy endeavor to relieve the languor of existence.* 
 
 His principal and favorite recreation was reading. Books 
 were to him what cards are to a great portion of the world, 
 — his frequent and most valued resource. They frequently 
 interfered with the exercise necessary to his health ; for 
 when he got home to take a morning's ride, if he found a 
 book which pleased him, he willingly postponed his excur- 
 sion.! Nor was he insensible to the pleasures of domestic 
 society and exhilarating conversation. At his table, in 
 the company of a few select friends, or of his children and 
 kinsmen, whom he always loved to see around him, he ap- 
 peared to throw all his cares aside, and to yield himself 
 up to unrestrained enjoyment. Whatever fatigue or anxi- 
 ety, in the course of the day, his mind might have experi- 
 enced from the pressure of public affairs, every uneasy 
 circumstance seemed at tliese periods to be forgotten. 
 His countenance was cheerful, his conversation lively ; 
 and those who saw him only in these short intervals of rel- 
 axation, would have imagined that pleasure was the busi- 
 ness of his life. As the mildness of his demeanor towards 
 all ranks, in the intercourse of public life, procured him 
 many friends, the frankness and familiarity which he dis- 
 played in his private circle gave a relish to his society. 
 His conversation often sparkled with wit and gaiety, and 
 his observations were generally not less pleasant than 
 shrewd. The topics discussed at his table were various ; 
 literary conversation was preferred, politics were always 
 avoided.^ The magnificent style in which he lived, the 
 number of his attendants, and the concourse of persons of 
 distinction, seem, at first, adverse to the freedom of his 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghloy, p. 61. 
 
 t Ibid, p. 63,64. It is curious to hear the peevishness with which learning 
 is often cried down, oven by those who derive from it the principal pleasureH 
 of their life. Though Burleigh found nearly all his recreation in books, in a 
 letter to the earl of Shrewsbury, he wishes that nobleman's son " all the good 
 education that may be mete to teach him to fear God, love his natural father, 
 and to know his friends, without any curiosity ofhumflii learning, which, with- 
 out the fear of God, doth great hurt to all youth in this time and nge." — 
 Lodge,\o\. ii. p. ]33. 
 
 t Ibid. p. 62, 63. 
 
LORl> BURLWGH. 273 
 
 social entertainments. But Burleigh was accustomed to 
 live in a crowd ; and few of his visitors were so exalted 
 above him by rank that he could not with grace relax him- 
 self in their presence. 
 
 A share in conversation was the chief pleasure which 
 he enjoyed at table ; for he was distinguished for temper- 
 ance in an age when that virtue was not common. He 
 ate sparingly, partook of few dishes, never drank above 
 thrice at a meal, and very seldom of wine. Although the 
 dinner hour in that age was not later than twelve or one 
 o'clock, it was not uncommon with him to refrain from 
 supper.* The gout, with which he was grievously tor- 
 mented in the latter part of his life, probably contributed 
 to render him more cautiously abstemious : if his temper- 
 ance failed to banish this uneasy guest, he never at least 
 encouraged its stay by rich wines and strong spices.f 
 
 Nor was the private life of Burleigh destitute of nobler 
 virtues. At a period when the poor had so few resources 
 for their industry, and when many willing to work were 
 reduced to want, a portion of his ample fortune was be- 
 nevolently appropriated to their necessities. His certain 
 and regular alms amounted to 500/. a year, besides further 
 and large disbursements on extraordinary occasions. Part 
 was employed, under proper superintendence, in affording 
 relief to poor prisoners, or in releasing honest debtors ; 
 the rest was confided to the management of certain 
 parishes for the use of their most destitute inhabitants. 
 From the low state of husbandry at that period, and the 
 very limited intercourse between nations, one bad season 
 was sufficient to subject a kingdom to the miseries of 
 famine ; corn, in certain districts, was sold at the most 
 exorbitant prices, and rendered as inaccessible to the poorer 
 classes as if none had existed in the country. In such 
 times of scarcity, then of frequent occurrence, and attend- 
 ed with consequences revolting to humanity, it was usual 
 for Burleigh to buy up large quantities of corn, which he 
 sold at low prices to the poor in the neighborhood of 
 his different seats ; and, by this well-judged assistance, re- 
 lieved their necessities without relaxing their industry.^ 
 
 The mind of Burleigh appears to have been strongly 
 tinctured with piety. Placed amidst dangers which his 
 utmost vigilance could not always avoid, and from which 
 he often escaped by unexpected accidents, his views were 
 naturally extended to that Power on whose will depended 
 the duration of his life. His faith had been endeared to 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p, 62, 63. f Nuga; AntiqutB, vol. ii. p. 82. 
 X Life of William Lord Burghloy, p. 38, 42. 
 
274 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 him by persecution ; his piety was exalted by the sacrifice 
 of his interest to religion. Regular in his attendance on 
 public worship, and in the performance of his private de- 
 votions, he strove, both by example and influence, to in- 
 spire his family and connections with religious sentiments. 
 During the greatest pressure of business, it was his 
 custom, morning and evening, to attend prayers at the 
 queen's chapel. When his increasing infirmities rendered 
 him no longer able to go abroad, he caused a cushion to 
 be laid by his bed-side, and on his knees performed his 
 devotions at the same regular hours. Unable at length 
 to kneel, or to endure the fatigue of reading, he caused 
 the prayers to be read aloud to him as he lay on his bed.* 
 " I will trust," he said, " no man if he be not of sound 
 religion ; for he that is false to God can never be true 
 to man."f The strictness of his morals was in corre- 
 spondence with his piety, and both had a powerful effect in 
 confirming his. fortitude in times of peril. At the awful 
 period when Philip was preparing his armada, and when 
 the utter destruction of the English government weis con- 
 fidently expected abroad, and greatly dreaded at home, 
 Burleigh was uniformly collected and resolute ; and when 
 the mighty preparations of the Spaniards were spoken of 
 in his presence with apprehension, he replied with firmness, 
 " They shall do no more than God will suffer them."| 
 
 In his intercourse with his family and dependants, this 
 grave statesman was kind and condescending. In his 
 leisure moments he delig-hted in sporting with his children, 
 forbearing, however, such indications of intemperate fond- 
 ness as might have rendered them regardless of his author- 
 ity, and ready to give the rein to their caprices. In his 
 old age no scene so much delighted him as to have his 
 children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, collected 
 around his table, and testifying their happiness by their 
 good-humor and cheerfulness.^ While his eldest son 
 passed into the rank of hereditary nobility, it was to his 
 second son, Robert, that Burleigh turned an anxious eye 
 as the heir of his talents and influence. Nor were his 
 pains fi*uitlessly bestowed :|| Robert displayed abilities 
 worthy of his father ; and after rising, during his lifetime, 
 to considerable trusts and employments in the state, suc- 
 ceeded him, under James I., as prime minister, under the 
 title of earl of Salisbury. The care with which Burleigh 
 watched over tlie interests of this son appears from a 
 
 * Life of VS^illiam Lord Burghley, p. 56. t Ibid. p. 68. 
 
 t Ibid. p. 30. $Ibid. p. 60, 61. 
 
 II Bacon's Works, vol. i. p. 376. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 275 
 
 series of prudential advices arranged in ten divisions, 
 which he drew up for his use.* 
 
 For the improvement of his children, as well as for his 
 own domestic happiness, Burleigh was chiefly indebted to 
 his wife, the daughter of sir Anthony Cook, a lady highly 
 . distinguished for her mental accomplishments. The plan 
 of female education, which the example of sir Thomas 
 More had rendered popular, continued to be pursued 
 among the superior classes of the community. The learn- 
 ed languages, which, in the earlier part of Elizabeth's 
 reign, still contained every thing elegant in literature, 
 formed an indispensable branch of a fashionable educa- 
 tion ; and many young ladies of rank could not only trans- 
 late the authors of Greece and Rome, but even compose 
 in Greek and Latin with considerable elegance. Sir 
 Anthony Cook, a man eminent for his literary acquire- 
 ments, and on that account appointed tutor to Edward VI., 
 bestowed the most careful education on his five daughters ; 
 and all of them rewarded his exertions, by becoming not 
 only proficients in literature, but distinguished for their 
 excellent demeanor as mothers of families. Lady Bur- 
 leigh was adorned with every quality which could excite 
 love and esteem ; and many instances are recorded of her 
 piety and beneficence. She had accompanied her husband 
 through all the vicissitudes of his fortunes ; and an affec- 
 tionate union of forty-three years rendered the loss of her 
 the severest calamity of his life. The despondency caused 
 to him by this irreparable calamity produced a desire to 
 renounce public business, so irksome in that state of his 
 feelings, and to devote the remainder of his life to retire- 
 ment and meditation. But Elizabeth was too sensible of 
 the vast importance of his counsels. She peremptorily 
 rejected the resignation which he tendered, yet softened 
 her refusal with those arts which she knew so well to 
 employ. 
 
 But though Burleigh continued to apply himself with 
 undiminished vigor to public business, his happiness had 
 sustained a loss which nothing could repair. In his wife 
 he had been deprived of a companion whose society long 
 habit had rendered essential to his enjoyment ; while the 
 increasing severity of the gout, with other infirmities of 
 age, aggravated the distress of his mind by the pains of 
 his body. By no trait had he hitherto been more remark- 
 
 * This tract has been transmitted to posterity ; and as it affords so many 
 characteristic traits of its author, it is inserted, for the information and en- 
 tertainment of the reader, in the Appendix. 
 
276 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 able than by the unruffled calmness of his temper. The 
 serenity of his countenance seemed to indicate a tranquil- 
 lity so confirmed as to be incapable of interruption ; and 
 an eye-witness informs us that, for thirty years together, 
 he was seldom seen moved with joy in prosperity, or with 
 sorrow in adversity.* But in the latter years of his life 
 this consummate self-command began to forsake him. 
 Business became more irksome as strength decreased, 
 and the success with which his antagonists thwarted his 
 pacific counsels gave him infinite pain, as they seemed 
 likely to undo all the national advantages which it had 
 been the labor of his life to procure. His temper now 
 became so unfortunately altered, that he, who had been so 
 eminent for coolness, sometimes gave way to passion, in 
 opposition to every dictate of discretion.f In a conversa- 
 tion with M. Fouquerolles, an envoy from Henry IV., 
 something which occurred so transported him with passion, 
 that he broke out into the most vehement invectives 
 against that monarch.| His intercourse with his servants, 
 which had been uniformly placid and cheerful, was now 
 frequently interrupted by sudden bursts of peevishness : 
 but, on such occasions, he immediately recollected himself; 
 appeared sensible of the injustice of injuring those who 
 could not retaliate ; and endeavored, by assuming a peculiar 
 complacency in his words and looks, or by studiously devis- 
 ing some acts of kindness, to make reparation for the pain 
 which he had unadvisedly caused.§ 
 
 Various indications of declining health now began to 
 assail the aged statesman. Still he continued assiduous 
 at his post, and labored to rescue his countrymen from 
 those delusive hopes of military glory and plunder, in 
 pursuit of which tliey tlireatened to exhaust all their solid 
 resources. The last public measure which he accomplish- 
 ed was the conclusion of an advantageous treaty with 
 Holland : and he closed his long and useful labors in the 
 council wjth an earnest but ineffectual effort to persuade 
 them to negotiate with Spain. He died on the 4th of 
 August, 1598, in the seventy-eighth year of liis age, hav- 
 ing held the station of prime minister of England for the 
 long period of forty years, and assisted in the conduct of 
 public affairs for upwards of lial fa century. His death- 
 bed was surrounded by friends whom he esteemed, by 
 children for whoso future welfare he had provided, by 
 servants devoted to liim from a long interchange of good 
 
 * Life of William Lord BiirgJiley, p. 43. 
 
 t Birch's Memoirs, vol. i. p, 165. J Ibid. vol. ii. p 398. 
 
 ^ Life of William IaitA Burghley, p. 49. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 277 
 
 offices ; and he expired with the utmost serenity and 
 composure.* 
 
 The death of Burleigh was a cause of general sorrow. 
 Elizahetli deeply lamented the loss of a minister in whose 
 exertions she had found security and success during her 
 whole reign : and the clouds which overhung the close of 
 her career must often have renewed her regret for the 
 want of her wise and faithful counsellor. A minister who 
 opposes the multitude in the pursuit of an object on which 
 their heated imaginations have fixed, is sure, at the mo- 
 ment, to be exposed to reproach. Such was the situation 
 of Burleigh at the period of his death. In the face of 
 popular clamor, he continued to deprecate a war which was 
 no longer necessary for the public safety, and which wasted 
 the wealth of the nation to gratify the pride or avarice of 
 individuals. The earl of Essex, who still stood at the 
 head of his antagonists, was the idol of the people ; and 
 they fondly contrasted the high spirit, the love of glory, 
 the courageous sentiments of this young nobleman with 
 what they termed the cold, cautious, illiberal policy of the 
 aged Burleigh. Yet his death caused more regret than 
 satisfaction, even among the unthinking multitude. They 
 felt themselves deprived of a guardian, under whose 
 vigilant protection they had long reposed and prospered ; 
 and there remained no statesman of equal experience to 
 guide their affairs, at a time when the decay of Elizabeth, 
 and a disputed succession, threatened the nation with 
 many calamities. The lapse of time has long since remov- 
 ed those circumstances which elevated the hopes and 
 inflamed the passions of his contemporaries ; the merits of 
 Burleigh have been more justly estimated ; and posterity 
 seems to concur in recognizing him as the wisest minister 
 of England. 
 
 * Life of William Lord Barghley, p. 63. 
 
 VOL. I. 24 
 
278 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 THE LIFE OF LORD BURLSIOH. 
 
 LORD BURLEIGH'S ADVICES TO HIS SON, ROBERl' CECIL. 
 
 " Son Robert, 
 
 " The virtuous inclinations of thy matchless mother,by whose lender 
 and godly care thy infancy was governed, together with thy education 
 under so zealous and excellent a tutor, puts me in rather assurance 
 than hope that thou art not ignorant of that summum bonum which is 
 only able to make thee happy as well in thy death as in thy life ; I 
 mean, the true knowledge ancl worship of thy Creator and Redeemer ; 
 without which all other things are vain and miserable. So that, thy 
 youth being guided by so sufficient a teacher, I make no doubt that he 
 will furnish thy life with divine and moral documents. Yet, that I may 
 not cast off" the care beseeming a parent towards his child, or that thou 
 shouldest have cause to derive tny whole felicity and welfare rather 
 from others than from whence thou receivedst thy breath and being. 1 
 think it fit and agreeable to the affection I bare thee, to help thee with 
 such rules and advertisements for the squaring of thy life as are rather 
 gained by experience than by much reading. To the end that, enter- 
 ing into this exorbitant age, thou mayest oe the better prepared to 
 shun those scandalous courses whereunto the world, and the lack of 
 experience, may easily draw thee. And because I will not confound 
 thy memory, I nave reduced them into ten precepts j and, next unto 
 Moses' Tables, if thou imprint them in thy mind, thou shalt reap the 
 benefit, and I the content. And they are these following : — 
 
 I. When it shall please God to bring thee to man's estate, use great 
 providence and circumspection in choosing thy wife ; for from thence 
 will spring all thy future good or evil. And it is an action of thy life 
 like unto a stratagem of war, "wherein a man can err but once. If thy 
 estate be good, match near home and at leisure ; if weak, far off" and 
 quickly. Inquire diligently of her disposition, and how her parents 
 have been inclined in tneir youth. Let her not be poor, how generous* 
 soever ; for a man can buy nothing in the market with gentility. Nor 
 choose a base and uncomely creature altogether for wealth ; for it will 
 cause contempt in others and loathing in thee. Neither make choice 
 of a dwarf or a fool ; for by the one thou shalt beget a race of pigmies ; 
 the other will be thy continual disgrace ; and it will yirket thee to hear 
 her talk. For thou shalt find it to thy great grief, that there is nothing 
 more fulsome^ than a she-fool. 
 
 And touching the guiding of thy house, let thy hospitality be mod- 
 erate, and, according to the means of thy estate, rather plentiful than 
 sparing, but not costly ; for I never knew any man grow poor by keep- 
 ing an orderly table. But some consume themselves through secret 
 vices, and their hospitality bears the blame. But banish swinish 
 drunkards out of thine house, which is a vice impairing health, con- 
 
 * ». «. Well-born. f '• •• Irk. % i. e. Disguiting. 
 
LORD BURLEIGH. 279 
 
 Burning much, and makes no show. I never heard praise ascribed to 
 the drunkard but the well-bearing his drink, which is a better commen- 
 dation for a brewer's horse or a drayman than for either a gentleman 
 or a serving-man. Beware thou spend not above three of four parts 
 of thy revenues, nor above a third part of that in thy house 5 for Uie 
 other two parts will do no more than defray thy extraordinaries, which 
 always surmount the ordinary by much : otherwise thou shalt live, like 
 a rich beggar, in continual want. And the needy man can never live 
 happily nor contentedly j for every disaster makes him ready to mort- 
 gage or sell. And that gentleman who sells an acre of land sells an 
 ounce of credit; for gentility is nothing else but ancient riches. So 
 that, if the foundation shall at any time sink, the building must needs 
 follow. — So much for the first precept. 
 
 II. Bring thy children up in learning and obedience, yet without 
 outward austerity. Praise them openly, reprehend them secretly. 
 Give them good countenance, and convenient maintenance, according 
 to thy ability ; otherwise thy life will seem their bondage, and what 
 portion thou shalt leave them at thy death they will thank death for it, 
 and not thee. And I am persuaded that the foolish cockering* of some 
 parents, and the over-stern carriage of others, causeth more men and 
 women to take ill courses than their own vicious inclinations. Maury 
 thy daughters in time, lest thev marry themselves. And suffer not 
 thy sons to pass the Alps ; for they shall learn nothing there but pride, 
 blasphemy, and atheism.f And if by travel they get a few broken 
 languages, that shall profit them not'ning more than to have one meat 
 served in divers dishes. Neither, by my consent, shalt thou train 
 them up in wars : for he that sets up his rest to live by that profession 
 can hardly be an honest man or a good Christian. Besides, it is a 
 science no longer in request than use. For soldiers in peace are like 
 chimneys in summer. 
 
 III. Live not in the country %vithout com and cattle about thee; for 
 he that putteth his hand to the purse for everj' expense of household, is 
 like him that keepeth water in a sieve. And what provision thou shalt 
 want, learn to buy it at the best hand ; for there is one penny saved in 
 four betwixt buying in thy need and when the markets and seasons serve 
 fittest for it. Be not served with kinsmen, or friends, or men entreated 
 to stay ; for they expect much, and do little ; nor with such as are 
 amorous, for their lieads are intoxicated. And keep rather two too 
 few, than one too many. Feed them well, and pay them with the 
 most ; and then thou mayest boldly require service at their hands. 
 
 IV. Let thy kindred and allies be welcome to thy house and table. 
 Grace them with thy countenance, and farther them in all honest ac- 
 tions ; for, by this means, thou shalt so double the band of nature, as 
 thou shalt find them so many advocates to plead an apology for thee 
 behind thy back. But shake off those glow-wonns, I mean parasites 
 and sycophants, who will feed and fawn upon thee in the summer of 
 prosperity ; but, in an adverse storm, they will shelter thee no more 
 than an arbor in winter. 
 
 V. Beware of suretiship for thy best friends. lie that payeth 
 another man's debt seeketh his own decay. But if thou canst not 
 otherwise choose, rather lend thy money thyself upon good bonds, al- 
 though thou borrow it. So shedt thou secure thyself, and pleasure thy 
 
 * i e. Over-indulgeoce. 
 
 f This strong caution againnt travelling seems like a presage of the fnturo 
 evils it was to produce to his own family. His grandson William, the 
 second earl of Exeter, and his great-grandson lord Roos, were both, when 
 at Rome, made proselytes to the popish religion. 
 
280 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 friend. Neither borrow money of a neighbor or a friend, but of a stran- 
 ffer; where, paying for it, thou shalt hear no more of it. Otherwise 
 tnou shalt ecHpse thy credit, lose thy freedom, and yet pay as dear as 
 to another. But in borrowing of money, be precious of thy word ; for 
 he that hath care of keeping days of payment is lord of another man's 
 purse. 
 
 VI. Undertake no suit against a poor man with receiving* much 
 wrong 5 for, besides that thou meikest him thy compeer, it is a base 
 conquest to triumph where there is small resistance. Neither at- 
 tempt law against any man before thou be fully resolved that thou hast 
 right on thy side ; and then spare not for either money or pains ; for 
 a cause or two so followed and obtained will free thee from suits a 
 great part of thy life. 
 
 VII. Be sure to keep some great man thy friend, but trouble him 
 not for trifles. Comphment him often with many, yet small gifts, and 
 of little charge. And if thou hast cause to bestow any great gi-atuity, 
 let it be something which may be daily in sight : otherwise, in this am- 
 bitious age, thou shalt remain like a hop without a pole, live in ob- 
 scurity, and be made a foot-ball for every insulting companion to 
 spurn at. 
 
 VIII. Towards thy superiors be humble, yet generous.t With thine 
 equals familiar, yet respective. Towards thine inferiors show much 
 humanity, and some familiarity : cis to bow the body, stretch forth the 
 hand, and to uncover the head 5 with such like popular compliments. 
 The first prepares thy way to advancement, — the second makes thee 
 known for a man well bred, — the third gains a good report ; which, 
 once got, is easily kept. For right humanity takes such deep root in 
 the mmds of the multitude, as they are more easily gained by un- 
 profitable courtesies than by churlish benefits. Yet I advise thee not 
 to affect, or neglect, popularity too much. Seek not to be Essex i 
 shun to be Raleigh, | 
 
 IX. Trust not any man with thy life, credit, or estate. For it is 
 mere folly for a man to enthral himself to his friend, as though, occa- 
 sion being offered, he should not dare to become an enemy. 
 
 X. Be not scurrilous in conversation, nor satirical in thy jests. The 
 one will make thee unwelcome to all company 3 the other pull on 
 quarrels, and get the hatred of thy best friends. For suspicious jests, 
 when any of them savor of truth, leave a bitterness in the minds of 
 those which are touched. And, albeit I have already pointed at this 
 inclusively, yet I think it necessary to leave it to thee as a special cau- 
 tion 5 because I have seen many so prone to quip and gird,§ as they 
 would rather lose their friend than their jest. And if, perchance, their 
 boiling brain yield a quaint scoff, they wall travail to be delivered of it 
 as a woman with child. These nimble fancies are but the froth of 
 
 * ie. Though you receive. 
 
 tic. Not mean. 
 
 t Essex was the idol of the people ; his rival, Raleigh, their aversion, 
 till his undeserved misfortunes attracted their compassion, and his heroism 
 their applause. 
 
 ^ Mock and jibe. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
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