THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
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 MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE, 
 
 wmi 
 
 A NEW TRANSLATION OF HIS UTOPIA, 
 
 HIS 
 
 HISTORY OF KING RICHARD III, 
 
 AND 
 
 HIS LATIN POEMS. 
 
 % ARTHUR CAYLEY, the Younger, Esq. 
 
 Like Cafo firm, like Aristides just. 
 
 Like rigid Cincinnatus nobly poor, 
 
 A tlauDtless soul, erect, who smil'd on death. thoj«sok» 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PUBLISHED BY CADELL AND DAVIS, STBAND. 
 
 1808.
 
 I'rintidtj lUwiJlll, D><gt aixi SlniiuoH, EJinturgb,
 
 2>A 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Biograpliers of Sir Thomas More. . . . Mr. Roper. . . , Mr. More. ... 
 
 The knighfs ancestry Sir John More. . . . Sir Thomas* mother. 
 
 .... His birth. , , . Anecdote of his infancy.. . . . His school-education. 
 .... Cardinal Morton. . . . More's early talents. . . . Specimen of his 
 early wit and rejection. . . . He is sent to Oxford, . . . His first ac- 
 quaintance with Erasmus. . . . JVolsey. . . . More studieth the law. . . . 
 He is made reader at Furnival' s-inn, and reads a public lecture. . . . 
 His verses on Elizabeth, queen to Henry F"!/. . . . He discovers some 
 inclination for the monastic state. . . . Erasmus' early high opinion of 
 him Dean Colet. . . . More's letter to him Colet's Iiigh opi- 
 nion of More. . . . More marries Jane Colte. . . . His family by her. 
 . ... He renews his application to the law. . . . Henry VII. . . . More't 
 
 early patriotism. ...He offends the king Henry's revenge. . . . 
 
 More escapes Dr. Fo.t'x xnarp. . . . His application in retirement. ... . 
 Four juvenile poems by him 3 
 
 CHAP. IL 
 
 Accession of Henry PUT. . . . Consummation of his marriage with 
 
 Catharine of Arragon More re-appears in the world and writes 
 
 verses on the coronation. . . . Anecdote of Emson and Dudley 
 
 More's attucltment to Erasmus. . . . He is made one of the under- 
 sheriff's. . . . His high estimation as a laivyer. . . . He replies to Dor- 
 pius His second wife. . . . Henry desires to engage him in his ser- 
 vice: . . . He accompanies Tonstall to Flanders His letter to Eras- 
 mus on hti embassy Buslciden and JEgidms More's letter to 
 
 Jt^arham He pleads a cause for the pope. . . . Is knighted, &c . . . 
 
 12fA)571
 
 Ti CONTENTS. 
 
 His account of hhjirst advancement. . . . Henry\s earlier court. . . . 
 T/ie /ling's intimacy tvilh More. . . . Luther. . . . Erasmus persecuted. 
 .... More expected the reformation. . . . Edivard Lee attacks Eras- 
 mus. . . . More defends him. '. .' . Brixitis attacks More. . . . Erasmus 
 defe'uls him. . . . Morels letter to the university of Oxford. , . . He is 
 made speaker of the commons: . . '. His speech on the occasion. . . . 
 Anecdotes of IVolsey and More. . . . IVolscy wishes to send, him to 
 Spain. . . . Progress of Luther. . . . Henry writes agaiiisL him, and 
 More is suspected. . , . Luther's reply and Ross' rejoinder^ . . ^ Eras- 
 mus writes against Luther. . , . More is exhorted to ivrite. . . . His 
 character in the Ciceronianus. . . . He is made chancellor of the 
 duchy of Lancaster. . . . Anecdote of the king and More, . . . More 
 is sent on foreign e7nbassies. . . . His success at Camlray. . . . His loss 
 hyfire, and letter to his wife 59 
 
 CHAP. m. 
 
 Cardinal IVolsey. . . . His advancement, and quarrel with the emperor 
 Charles. . . . Anecdotes of More and Wolsey. . . . The kings scruples 
 regarding his marriage. . . . His inconsistency. . . . More's conduct in 
 tlie matter. . . , fVolseys fall. . . . More made chancellor. . . . The 
 duke of Norfolk's speech and Mores on the occasion. . . . More's im- 
 provement in the office. . . . His respect to his father, aud impartiali- 
 ty to his family. . . . Anecdotes of his chancellorship. . . . He clears 
 the chancery of causes. . . . He is offered money by the bishops for 
 his writings. . . . Is again importuned by Henry on the divorce. . . . 
 He determines to resign the seal. . . . JVhich he at last effects. . . . 
 Henry' s promise to him. . . . More's contempt of worldly grandeur. 
 .... His wife is more concerned. . . . Anecdotes of her. . . . More 
 provides situations for his attendants, and calls together his family. 
 .... His poverty. . . . Death of hvs father, and his filial affection. . . . 
 His letters to Erasmus on his resignation. . . . His monumental inscrip- 
 tion. . . . His buildings and charity at Chelsea. , . . The remarks of
 
 CONTENTS. Tu 
 
 Fox and otJieis on More's persecution of heterodoxij. . . . State of the 
 Unies. . . . Mon's own rafutation of his calumniators g5 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Morf:^s anticipation of his fate. . ..He withdraws from public business. 
 .... His remark on Henry's second marriage, and advice to Crom- 
 nell. . . . His behaviour io the bishops. . . . Malignant scrutiny on his 
 conduct. . . . The nun of Kent. . . . More's letter to Cromivell, and a 
 curious anecdote. . . . More accused of misprision of treason. . . . Cou' 
 duct of the committee for examining him. . . . More's firmness. . . . 
 His letter to the king., < . . He is accused of ingratitude. . , . His re- 
 ply. . . . Anecdote on his return home. . . . The king's conduct. . . , 
 More's name erased from the bill. . . . Acts passed in parliament. . . . 
 Henry's triumph in his new titles. . . . Opinions of the Romish party, 
 and of their adversaries. . . . More refuseth the oath of succession. . . . 
 He is cited to appear at Lambeth, . . . His foreboding, and letter to 
 Jiis daughter. . . . Cranmer's arguTnent, and his curious letter. . . . 
 More and Fisher committed to the Tower, and attainted. . . . More's 
 sentiments on the king's marriage, and the pope's primacy 141 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Henry FHI atid Constantius More' s firmness. . . , Anecdotes. ..." 
 
 Mrs. Roper visiteth him His pains to meet his fate in a becoming 
 
 manner. . . . His rejection on the execution of Reynolds, &c. . . . His 
 
 verses on Cromwell's promise Lady More visiteth him, and some 
 
 of the privy -council. . . . His two letters to his daughter His 
 
 books taken from him. . . . Rich's conversation with More. . . . More 
 
 arraigned. . . . The commissioners and jury More's answer to the 
 
 indictment His answer to Rich The jury find him guilty 
 
 His arguments as to the insufficiency of the indictment The chan- 
 cellor's answer, and More's reply Sentence passed upon him 
 
 Farther proceedings More's courage and constancy. . . . His meet-
 
 r> 
 
 viii CONTENTS. 
 
 ing with his children. . . . Anecdote. . . . His last letter to his daugh- 
 ter. . . . Sir Thomas Pope sent to him. . . . More's preparation for 
 death. . . . His last jokes, and execution. . . , His burial 19 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Anecdote. . . . Queen Ann and Cranmer indolent in More's cause. . . . 
 Effects of More's execution. . . . Sentiments of the Emperor Charlei^ 
 Cardinal Pole, and Paulus Jovius. . . . More's religion, bigotry, &c. 
 .... Not so extravagant as some, in his notions of the papal power. 
 .... His pr opens it 1/ to jesting, and witty sayings. . . . His behaviour 
 at his death natural. . . . His disinterestedness, and integrity while 
 chancellor, and virtue as a patriot minister. . , . Queen Catharine's 
 opinion of More. . . . His greatness of mind, excellent temper, and 
 good management of his family. . . . Other traits of his character. 
 .... His learning, modesty, and benevolence. . . . His Utopia, History 
 of Richard Ul, epigrams, letteis, and controversial writings. . . . 
 Jiumet's character of him as a writer. . . . The editions of More's 
 English and Latin works. . , . His pergonal peculiarities. . . . His fa- 
 mily, . . . Erasmus' encomium on More's house. . . . Mrs. Roper. . . . 
 Her letter to her father in prison. . . . Her daughter Basset. . . . 
 More's letter to Gonellus. . . . The death of Erasmus and view of Mi 
 character. . . . More's remonstrances with him misrepresented. . . 25f 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Erasmus R(4. Vlrtco Hulteno 2^7 
 
 Erasmus Rot. Gulielmo Budico 306 
 
 Gulielmus Covrinus Nucerinus Philippo Montano 310 
 
 Clarorum et Doctorum Virorum vnria Epigrammata in laudem Thomct 
 Mori 328
 
 MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 
 
 Vol. I. B
 
 MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 
 
 CHAR I. 
 
 Biographers of SirThomas More Mr. Roper. . . . Mr. More Tht 
 
 knight's ancestry. . . . Sir John More. . . . Sir Thomas' mother. . . . His 
 birth. . . . Anecdote of his irfancy. . . . His school- education. . . . Car- 
 dinal Morton. . . . More's earli/ talents. . . . Specimen of his early wit 
 and reflection. . . . He is sent to Oxford. . . . Hisfirst acquaintance with 
 Erasmus. . . . JVolsey. . . . More studieth the law. . . . He is made 
 reader at FurnivaP s-inn, and reads a public lecture. . . . His verses on 
 Elizabeth, queen to Henry VH. . . . He discovers some inclination 
 for the monastic state, . . . Erasmus^ early high opinion of him. . . . 
 Dean Colet. . . . More's letter to him. . . . Colet^s high opinion of 
 More. . . . More marries Jane Colte. . . . His family by her. . . . He 
 renews his application to the law. . . . Henry VII. . . . More's early 
 patriotism. , . . He offends the king. . . . Henry's revenge. . . . More 
 escapes Dr. Fox's snare. . . , His application in retirement. . . . Four 
 Juvenile poems by him, 
 
 B 2
 
 4 MJ'MOIRS OF 
 
 J.F examples of the most rigid integrity, with the sacrifiee 
 of life itself in the cause of supposed truth, deserve the at- 
 tention of mankind, few characters op record can have a 
 higher claim to this attention than our celebrated country- 
 man Sir Tliomas IMore. 
 
 Our most authentic sources of information respecting 
 him are, his Lite written by William Roper, Esq. who mar- 
 ried his favourite daughter Margaret ; that written by Tho- 
 mas ]\Iorc, Escj. his great-grandson ; and a letter or two by 
 Erasmus relative to his friend's domestic histor}'. The other 
 extant accounts of Sir Thomas arc little else than copies 
 from one or other of these, and throw no new light on his 
 histor}'. 
 
 Mr. Roper, naturally the more likely of the two bio- 
 graphers tp be well-inl'ormed upon the subject, hath been 
 accused of allowing his affection to prevail in some mea- 
 sure over his judgment on this occasion, and of writing a 
 panegyric rather than a history. Habits of long intimacy 
 with a character of great domestic worth, it is true, attach 
 us to it in a degree of enthusiasm, and one so long enjoy- 
 ing the intimacy and esteem of such a character as the 
 knight, had, we must allow, peculiar difficulties to encounter 
 in this way, when he afterward became his biographer. As 
 to his qualification in point of information, however, we may 
 allow his own words to be imanswerable, — knowing hi? do- 
 ings and mind no man living so well, by reason I zc-as con-
 
 SIR T. MORE. 
 
 ibiually resident in Ids house hij the space of sixteen years and 
 more. And for the respectability of his character, though 
 tombstones too often exaggerate, let his epitaph, as pre- 
 served by Mr. Somner, be allowed to speak. 
 
 Hie jacet 
 
 Vencrabilis vir Gulielmus Roper armiger, 
 
 Filius ct hasies quondam Johannis Roperi armigcri; 
 
 Et Margareta, 
 
 Uxor ejusdcm Gulielmi, 
 
 Filia quondam Tlioma; Mori militis 
 
 Siimmi olim Angliae cancellarii ; 
 
 Graecis Latinisque Uteris doctissima. 
 
 Qui quidera Gulielmus patri suo in officio 
 
 Prothonotarialus suprema; curias bauci 
 
 Rcgii successit ; in quo cum annis liv 
 
 Fideliter ministrasset, idem officium 
 
 Filio suo priraogenito Thoraae reliquit. 
 
 Fuit is Gulielmus domi forisque munificens, 
 
 Mitis, raisericors ; incarceratorum, 
 
 Oppressorum et paupcrum baculus. 
 
 Genuit px Mnrg.irpla nxore, quam unicara 
 
 Habuit, filios duos et filias tres ; ex iis 
 
 Vidit in vita sua nepotes et pronepotes. 
 
 Uxorem in virili a!tatc amisit ; viduatus uxore, 
 
 Castissime vixit annis xxxiii. 
 
 Tandem completis in pace diebus, decessit 
 
 In senectute bona ab omnibus desideratus 
 
 Die IV mensis Jan. ann. Chr. Salv. m.dlxxvii 
 
 iEtatis vero suae lxxxii. 
 
 Mr. More, whose account of the knight is fuller than 
 that of his predecessor, may be presumed from his direct
 
 « ME.MOIRS OF 
 
 relationship, to have made his additions with authenticity. 
 He is said to have been a person of respectability, and to 
 liave been employed by the English clergy as their agent in 
 Spain and at the court of Rome. On his death, the English 
 Roman catholic clergy erected a monument to his memory, 
 as a testimony of their respect and the sense they had of 
 his services. A celebrated protestant divine of our country 
 pronounces him, however, a narroK-m'indtd zealot and a 
 very fanatic ; while Anthony Wood says of his Life of Sir 
 Thomas, that it is incomparably well written, a judgment to 
 be expected from "\^'ood — similes hahent labra lactucas. His 
 bigotted attachment to the religion of his celebrated an- 
 cestor is indeed too apparent in his work ; and his biogra- 
 phical follower hath moreover frequent cause to regret his 
 neglect of chronological order, he having pretty imi)licitly 
 followed the indiflerent arrangement of Staplcton. ^\'e will 
 add his epitaph as preserved by AVood. 
 
 D. O. M. S. 
 
 Tlioma' Moro (Hoc. cbor. anglo 
 
 -Alagni illiiis Tlioma IVIori Anglic canccllarii 
 
 L't martj ris proucpoti alque liarcdi ; 
 
 Viro probitatc et pictatc insigiii ; 
 
 Qjii, raro admodum apud Britanuos exempio, 
 
 In fratrein natu minorein amplum transcripsit 
 
 Patriinoiiium, et presbyler Romae factus, 
 
 Inde jusiu scdis apostolica; in patriam 
 
 Projcctus, plu!^cuios arinos strenuam fidei 
 
 Propagaiidap iiavavit operam. 
 
 Postca cleri angUcani negotia tii annos RonicE 
 
 Et in Hiipaiiia P. P. Paulo v et Gregorio iv
 
 SIR T. MORE. ' 
 
 Surama integritate et industria 
 
 Suisque sumptibus procuravit- 
 
 Tandem de subrogando anglis episcopo 
 
 Ad Urban, vni missus, negotio eo felicitei 
 
 Coufecto, laborura mercedem recepturus, 
 
 Ex hac vita migravit 
 
 XI Apr ; Ann : m.dcxxv 
 
 ^tatis suae Lix. 
 
 Clems anglicanus msestus P. 
 
 The modem biographer of Sir Thomas More, as all of 
 his intermediate biographers have done, must rely on these 
 two writers as his safest guides. We shall find their ac- 
 counts to admit of considerable amplification as we pro- 
 ceed ; and should either of our conductors occasionally 
 make what appears to us a false step, we must endeavour 
 to use what circumspection we can at this distant period in 
 avoiding his error. 
 
 Respecting the knight's early ancestry, both of our guides 
 have left n*; ill infunued. From the great-grandson, how- 
 ever, we learn that Sir John INIore, knight, the father of 
 Sir Thomas, bare arms from his birth, having his coat quar- 
 tered. By reason of Henry VIII.'s seizure of their evidences, 
 he adds, the family could not make out their ancestry ; but 
 he had heard that they proceeded from the Mores of Ire- 
 land, or the latter from them. Sir Thomas himself informs 
 us in his epitaph, that he sprang fi'om no noble family but of 
 an honest stock. 
 
 Sir John More appears to have been born about the year
 
 8 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 1440.* lie is said to have been a lawyer of disUiigiiished 
 talents and integrity, and was one of the justices of the 
 King's Bench in the reign of Henry VIII. f He is described 
 by Sir Thomas in the epitaph already alluded to, homo ci- 
 vilis, suavis, innocens, niitis, miscricors, cquus et integer ; an- 
 nis quidem gravis, sed corpore plusqtiam pro atatc vivido. He 
 lived to a eieat ao-e, and had the singular fortune of seeing 
 liis son Chancellor of England, as will appear by an anec- 
 dote hereafter to be related. 
 
 Camden, in his Remains, relates a bon-mot of Sir John 
 which will not preposses the fair sex in his favour. He com- 
 pared a man choosing a wife, to one who dipped his hand 
 into a bag which contained twenty snakes and one eel — it 
 was tzienttj to one t/iat he caught the eel. 
 
 After this, we are surprised at finding that the old gen- 
 tleman had the resolution to take three dips himself; for we 
 learn that he was thrice married. 
 
 The maiden name of his first wiic, the mother of Sir 
 Tliomas, was Ilandcombe, of Holywell in Bedford- 
 shire. The age of portents was not yet gone by ; and Dr. 
 Clement, a famous physician of the time, and the intimate 
 friend of More, reported of her, that, on the night after her 
 marriage, she saw, in a dream, engraven on her wedding 
 ring, the number and characters of her children, the face 
 of one shining uith superior brightness. She had Jane, mar- 
 
 * Erasmus to Budteus. f More>
 
 SIR T. MORE. S 
 
 ried to Richard Stafferton, Esq. whom Mr. More calls a 
 noble gentleman ; Elizabeth, wife of John Rastell, Esq. 
 the father of Judge Rastell ; and Thomas, the celebrated 
 subject of these memoirs. Of Sir John's other wives we 
 only know, that the christian name of the last was Alice. 
 She lived on her jointure in Hertfordshire, at a messuage 
 then called jNIoreplace, but since Gubbons, in the parish 
 of Northmimes, and outlived her son-in-law. Being de- 
 prived of her possessions in Henry's fury, a little before her 
 death, she died at Northal, about a mile distant, and was 
 buried in that church.* 
 
 Thomas, the only son of Sir John More, was born at his 
 father's usual residence in Milk-street, London, in 1480, i46o. 
 the twentieth year of the reign of our fourth Edward. An- 
 other presage of the child's future eminence, related by his 
 nurse, is, that one day as she was riding with him in her 
 arms over a piece of water, the horse slipt by accident in- 
 to a deep and dangerous hole. To give the infant, a chance 
 for his life, she threw him over a hedge into a field, and 
 having afterward, with much difficult}-, made her own escape, 
 she found him, to her no small surprise, not only unhurt, 
 but sAveetly smiling upon her. f 
 
 The school of S'. Anthony in the parish of Bennet-fink, 
 in Thread needle-street, belonging to an hospital of the same 
 name, which had been in high reputation since the time of 
 Henry VI, and, beside other eminent persons, numbereth 
 
 * More. t More. 
 
 Vol. I: C
 
 10 WE.MOIHS OF 
 
 archbishops Heath and AVhitgift among its scholars, aflord- 
 cd More hkewise ihc rudiments of his education.* Here 
 a learned man named Nicholas Holt was his master, under 
 whom, to use INIr. More's expression, he rather greedily de- 
 voured than lehuvcly chezved his grannnar rules, and far sur- 
 passed all his schoolfellows in understanding and diligence. 
 
 By the interest of his father, iVIore afterward became an 
 inmate of the house of Cardinal Morton, f of whom he 
 hath transmitted us a high character, as well in his Utopia 
 as in his History of Richard HI. His authority in the state, 
 saith More, was not more weighty than were his wisdom 
 and virtue ; his eloquence was polished and convincing, his 
 skill great as a lawyer, his understanding incomparable, his- 
 memory very extraordinary. The king and state relied up- 
 on his counsel, for it was his policy which placed the crown 
 of the usuipcr Richard upon the head of Henry, and unit- 
 ed the houses of York and Lancaster. Henry VIII made 
 him archbishop of Canterbury and chancellor of England, 
 to which the pope added the honour of cardinal. 
 
 Mr. Roper informs us, that while More was in the car- 
 dinal's house, though he were young of years, yet would he 
 at Christmas suddenly sometimes step-in among the players, 
 and, never studying for the matter, make apart of his ore n 
 there presently among them, zchich made the lookers-on more 
 apart than all the players beside. The cardinal, he adds, 
 took sreat deliirht in his wit and towardness, and would 
 
 * Roper and Newcourt* + Utopia and Ropfr.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 11 
 
 often say of More to the nobility who happened to be din- 
 ing witli him, this child, here waiting at the table, zvhosoever 
 shall live to see it, will prove a marvellous man. 
 
 The following curious specimen of More's early wit and 
 reflection, is extracted from his English works. 
 
 ' 2^, 'CiomaSi S^xt in his youth devised in his father's house 
 in London, a goodly hanging of fine painted cloth with 
 nine pageants and verses over every one of those pageants, 
 which verses expressed and declared what the images in 
 those pageants represented. And also in those pageants 
 were painted the things that the verses over them did in 
 effect declare. Which verses here follow. 
 
 In the first pageant was painted a boy playing at the 
 top and scourge, and over this pageant was written as fol- 
 loweth. 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 I am called Cliildhood, in play is all ray miud 
 
 To cast a quoit, a cokstcle and a ball, 
 A top can I set and drive it in his kind ; 
 
 But would to God these hateful bookes all 
 
 Were in a fire burnt to powder small ; 
 Then might I lead my life always in play. 
 Which life God send me to mine ending day ! 
 
 C 2
 
 JS> MEiMOIRS Of 
 
 In the second pageant was painted a goodly fresh young 
 man, riding upon a goodly horse, having a hawk on hiu 
 fist and a brace of greyhounds following him. And under 
 the horse's feet was painted the same boy that in the first 
 pageant was playing at the top and scourge. And over 
 this second pageant the writing was this. 
 
 IVIANIIOOD. 
 
 Manhood I am, therefore I me delight 
 
 To hunt and hawk, to nourish-up and feed, 
 The greyhound to the course, the hawk to the flight, 
 
 And to bestride a good and liisfy steed—— 
 
 These things become a very man indeed. 
 Yet thinketh this boy his peevish game sweeter, 
 But what, no force, his reason is no better. 
 
 In the third pageant was painted the goodly young man. 
 (in the second pageant) lying on the ground. And upon 
 him stood Lady Venus, goddess of love, and by her upon 
 this man stood the little God Cupid. And over this third 
 pageant this was the writing that followcth. 
 
 VExNUS AND CUPID. 
 
 Whoso na knoweth the strength, power, and might 
 
 Of Venus and me her little son Cupid ; 
 Thou Manhowl shalt a mirrour be aright 
 
 By us subdued for all tliy great pride, 
 
 My fiery dart pierccth thy tender side. 
 Now thou who erst dispisedst children small 
 Shall wax a child again and be my thrall.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 14 
 
 In the fourth pageant was painted an old sage father, 
 sitting in a chair. And lying under his feet was painted 
 the image of Venus and Cupid that Avere in the third pa- 
 geant. And over this fourth pageant the scripture was this. 
 
 AGE. 
 
 Old age am I, with lockes thin and hoar, 
 
 Of our short life the last and best part, 
 Wise and discreet } the public weal therefore 
 
 I help to rule, to my labour and smart. 
 
 Therefore Cupid withdraw thy fiery dart. 
 Chargeable matters shall of love oppress 
 Thy childish game and idle business. 
 
 In the fifth pageant was painted an image of Death, and 
 under his feet lay the old man in the fourth pageant. And, 
 above this fifth pageant, this Avas the saying. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 Though T he foul, iigl>, lean, and jiilshape, 
 
 Yet there is none in all this world wide, 
 That may my power withstand or escape ; 
 
 Therefore sage father, greatly magnified, 
 
 Descend from your chair, set apart your pride. 
 Vouchsafe to lend, the' it be to your pain, 
 To me, a fool, some of your wise brain. 
 
 In the sixth pageant was painted Lady Fame, and un- 
 der her feet was the picture of Death that was in the fifth
 
 a MEMOIRS OF 
 
 pageant. And over this sixth pageant the writing was as 
 followetli. 
 
 FAME. 
 
 Fame I am called, marvel jou nothing, 
 
 Though with (ongucs am compassed all round, 
 
 For in voice of people is my chief living, 
 O cruel Death, thy power I confound. 
 When thou a noble man hast brought to ground, 
 
 Maugre thy teeth, to live cause him shall I 
 
 Of people in perpetual memory. 
 
 In the seventh pageant was painted the image of Time, 
 and under his feet Avas lying the picture of Fame that was 
 in the sixth pageant. And this Avas the scripture over this 
 seventh pageant. 
 
 TIME. 
 
 I whom thou sees with liorologe in hand, 
 
 Am named Time, tho laid of pvery bour, 
 I shall in space destroy both sea and land. 
 
 O simple Fame, bow darest thou man honour, 
 
 Promising of his name an endless flower ; 
 Who may in the world have a name eternal 
 W^hen I shall in process destroy the world and all. 
 
 In the eighth pageant wa« pictured the image of Lady 
 Eternity, sitting in a chair, under a sumptuous cloth of 
 state, crowned with aji imperial croAvn. And under her
 
 SIR T. MORE. 15 
 
 feet lay the picture of Time, tliat was in the seventh pageant, 
 and above this eighth pageant was it written as foUoweth. 
 
 ETERNITY. 
 
 He needeth not to boast, I am Eternity, 
 * The very name signifieth well. 
 
 And mine empire infinite shall be. 
 
 Thou, mortal Time, every man can tell, 
 Art nothing else but the mobility 
 Of sun and moon, changing in every degree ; 
 When they shall leave their course, thou shalt be brought, 
 For all thy pride and boasting, into nought. 
 
 In the ninth pageant was painted a poet sitting in a 
 chair; and over this pageant were there written, these verses 
 
 in Latin following. 
 
 THE POET. 
 
 Has fictas quemcunque.juvat spectare figuras ; 
 
 Sed mira veros qui putat arte homines, 
 Ille potest veris animura sic pascere rebus, 
 
 Ut pictis oculos pascit imaginibus. 
 Namque videbil uti fragilis bona lubrica mundi, 
 
 Tam cito non veniunt, quam cito pretereunt. 
 Gaudia, laus et honor, celeri pede omnia cedunt,^ 
 
 Quid manet excepto semper amore Dei ? 
 Ergo homines, levibus jam jam diffidite rebus, 
 
 Nulla reccssuro spes adiiibenda bono. 
 Qui dabit icternam nobis pro munere vitam 
 
 In pcrmansuro ponite vota Deo.'
 
 16 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 About the age of seventeen, Cardinal Morton commit- 
 ted his charge to the university of Oxford ; according to 
 '^^'ood to St. Maryhall, but other writers agree to Canter- 
 bury (subsequently Christchurch) college. Mr. Hearn was 
 of opinion that he had a chamber at St. Maryhall and 
 studied there, but that he belonged to Christchurch.* He 
 remained two years at the university, and profited exceed- 
 ingly, saith Mr. Roper, in rhetoric, logic, and philosophy ; 
 proving, addcth the great-grandson, what wonders wit and 
 diligence can accomphsh, when united, as they seldom arc, 
 in one painful student. 
 
 That auspicious event in More's history, his intimacy 
 with the good and learned Erasmus, probably had its origin 
 149;. about this time; the great scholar being at Oxford in 1407- f 
 It was probably by his advice and that of other learned 
 friends, assisted by his own taste, that More was led not 
 to neglect the Greek language in his classical education, 
 for it was not commonly studied then in our country. He 
 acquired it, we are told, t under the auspices of "William 
 Grocyn, at that time professor or public teacher of Greek 
 at Oxford, and Thomas Linacer the celebrated physician ; 
 and he continued to be a warm friend to the cultivation of 
 that noble language, as we shall find by his letter on the 
 subject to the university of Oxford. 
 
 AVolsey also, was at this time bursar of IMagdalen col- 
 lege, and, as well as Colet and Pace, probably enjoyed the 
 
 * Edit. Roper. f Jortin. t Erasmus, ep. 511.
 
 SIR T. MORE, 17 
 
 intimacy of More and Erasmus. He was as yet too young 
 and humble to liave materially manifested the character of 
 the cardinal ; and it is probable that More in early life con- 
 ceived too favourable an opinion of Wolsey, which we know 
 that his friend Erasmus certainly had done. 
 
 At the age of eighteen INIore is said to have written some 1498. 
 of his epigrams, and to have continued to utter, in the 
 manner we have already seen, many reflections on the va- 
 nity of this life, not commonly made at his age. By way 
 of exercise he translated the Tyrannicida of Lucian into 
 Latin, Avhich he called \\\s first fruit of the Greek languao-e. 
 He also wrote a declamation in answer to this piece, with 
 such force of argument, saith his partial great-grandson, 
 that it seemeth not to give place to Lucian either in inven- 
 tion or eloquence. 
 
 From the university, which, accordmg to the same writer, i45§. 
 he must have quitted in 14.99, he removed to New-inn to 
 study law ; where, saith Roper, he very rsell prospered for 
 his time, and Avas soon afterward admitted of LincolnVinn. 
 At this age his father allowed him so little money that he 
 could not dress with decency, and exacted from him a most 
 particular account of his expences. Yet this conduct was 
 apjilauded by More in his riper years, as having preserved 
 him from idleness, gaming, bad company, and vice in ge- 
 neral. 
 
 Having been reader at Furnival's-inn, by Roper's ac- 
 Vox. L D
 
 18 MEMoms or 
 
 count, above three years, ]\Iore must have obtained that 
 1-500. situation about I.jOO. For some time he also read a i)ublic 
 lecture on S'. Austin de civitate Dei, in the church of S«. 
 Lawrence in the Old Jewry; ivhcrcunto there resorted, saith 
 his son-in-law, Dr. Groci/n an excellent cunning man, and 
 all the chief learned of the city of London. We also learn 
 from Erasmus that More had a numerous auditory at this 
 lecture, and that neither priests nor old men were ashamed 
 or repented of having derived sacred wisdom from the young 
 layman.* 
 
 1503. The death of Elizabeth, queen to Henry VII, in 1503, 
 afforded More another occasion for the exercise of his ju- 
 venile muse. The following curious specimen of the poetry 
 and language of that age, is extracted from his English 
 works. 
 
 • SI rueful Hamcntattou written by Mr. Thomas jNIore in his 
 youth, of the death of queen Elizabeth, mother to king 
 Henry VIII, Avife to king Henry VII, and eldest daughter 
 to kino- Edward IV ; which queen Elizabeth died in child- 
 bed, in February in the year of our Lord 1503, and in the 
 1^* year of the reign of king Henry VII. 
 
 * Epist. to Hutten.
 
 SIR T. MORE. ]fi 
 
 O ! je that put your truat and confidence 
 In worldly joy and frail prosperity, 
 
 That so live here as ye should never hence. 
 Remember death and look here upon me ; 
 Ensample I think there may no better be. 
 
 i'^ourself wot well that in this realm was I 
 
 Your queen but late, and lo now here I lie 
 
 Was I not born of old worthy lineage, 
 
 Was not my mother queen, my father king, 
 
 Was I not a king's fare in marriage, 
 
 Had I not plenty of every pleasant thing ? 
 Merciful God, this is a strange reckoning ; 
 
 Riches, honour, wealth, and ancestry, 
 
 Ilath me forsaken, and lo now here I lie. 
 
 If worship might have kept me, I had not gone. 
 If wit might have me saved, I needed not fear, 
 
 If money might have holpe, I lacked none, 
 
 But O ! good God, what vaileth all this gear ? 
 When Death is come thy mighty messenger, 
 
 Obey we must, thr-rp is no rptTiBdy, 
 
 ]\Ie hath he summoned, and lo now here I lie. 
 
 Yet was I late promised otherwise, 
 
 This year to live in wealth and delice ; 
 
 Lo whereto cometh thy blandishing promise, 
 O ! false astrology and devinatrice, 
 Of God's secrets making thyself so wise ; 
 
 How true is for this year thy prophecy, 
 
 The year yet lastetb, and lo now here I lie- 
 
 D 2
 
 «0 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 O brittle wealth, aye full of bitterness, 
 
 Thj single pleasure doubled is with pain ; 
 
 Account my sorrow first and my distress 
 In sundrywise, and reckon thereagain 
 The joy that I have had, and I dare saync, 
 
 For all my honour, endured yet have I 
 
 More woe than wealth, and lo now here I lie. 
 
 AVhere are our castles now, where are our tewers ? 
 
 Goodly Richmond soon art thou gone from me ; 
 At Westminster, that costly work of yours, 
 
 Mine own dear lord, now shall I never see. 
 
 Almighty God vouchsafe to grant that ye 
 For you and your children well may edify ! 
 My palace builded is, and lo now here I lie- 
 
 Adieu mine own dear spouse, my worthy lord, 
 The faithful love that did us both combine, 
 
 In marriage and peaceable concord 
 
 Into your handes here I dean resign, 
 
 To be bestowed upon your children and mine. 
 
 Erst were you father, and now must you supply 
 
 The mother's part also, for lo now here I lie. 
 
 Farewell my daugtitcr, Lady Margaret, 
 
 God wot full oR it grieved hath my mind. 
 
 That you should go where we should seldom meet, 
 Now am I gone and have left you behind. 
 O mortal folk that we be, very blind ! 
 
 That we least fear, full oft it is most nigh, 
 
 From you depart I first, and lo now here I lie.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 21 
 
 Farewell Madam, my lord's worthy mother, 
 
 Comfort your son and be you of good cheer, 
 
 Take all a worth, for it will be none other. 
 
 Farewell my daughter Catharine, late the fare 
 To prince Arthur, mine own child so dear. 
 
 It booteth not for me to weep or cry, 
 
 Pray for my soul, for lo now here I lie. 
 
 Adieu Lord Henry, my loving son adieu, 
 
 Our Lord increase your honour and estate. 
 
 Adieu my daughter Mary, bright of hue, 
 
 God make you virtuous, wise and fortunate. 
 Adieu sweet heart, my little daughter Kate, 
 
 Thou shalt, sweet babe, such is thy destiny, 
 
 Thy mother never know, for lo now here I lie. 
 
 Lady Cicyly, Anne, and Catharine, 
 
 Farewell my well-beloved sisters three. 
 
 ! Lady Bridget, other sister mine, 
 
 Lo here the end of worldly vanity ! 
 
 Now well are ye that earthly folly flee, 
 And heavenly thinges love and magnify. 
 Farewell and pray for me, for lo now here I lie. 
 
 Adieu my lords, adieu my ladies all, 
 
 Adieu my faithful servants every chone. 
 
 Adieu my commons, whom I never shall 
 See in this world ; wherefore to the alone 
 Immortal God, verily three and one, 
 
 1 me commend ; thy infinite mercy 
 Shew to thy servant, for lo now here I lie.'
 
 52 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Tiic religion which then reigned in oui counli7 hud al- 
 ready made a very powerful impression on the mind of 
 More, and he discovered about his present age of twenty - 
 three, some inchiuition for the monastic state. lie lived 
 four years near the Charter-house, and without a vow fre- 
 quented thiiiy the spiritual exercises of the Carthusians. 
 Once he inclined to become a Franciscan friar, and is said 
 to have been deterred from his purpose only by observing 
 that the siricfncss formerly prevalent in this country had 
 been considerably abated. After this he had an intention 
 of becoming a priest in association with his faithful com- 
 panion \\ illiam Lilly ; but God, exclaims his great-grand- 
 son, had allotted him to another estate— not to live in so- 
 litude, but to be a pattern to the married in bringing-up 
 their children, in loving their wives, and devoting every en- 
 deavour to the good of their country ; yet excelling withal 
 in piety, charity, liumility, obedience, and chastity. 
 
 ij06. In 1506, Erasmus Avas in England and dedicated the Ty- 
 rannicida of Lucian, as well as a declamation of his own 
 in answer to it, to Richard Whitford, chaplain to bishop 
 Fox. llie high opinion he had already formed of More, 
 whose declamation on the same subject hath been before 
 noticed, "we fmd thus strongly expressed in that dedication. 
 — Latine declamare capi, idque impuhore Thoma Moro, cujus 
 itti sets tanta est J'acmidia, ut nihil non possit persuadere vel 
 hosti ; tanta autem Jiominem caritate compkctor, ut etiam si 
 saltare me, rest-imque ductaiejubeat, si7n non gravatim oh-
 
 sni T. MOIIE. 23 
 
 temperaturus. — iSeque enbn arhltror, niai inc vehemcns in il- 
 ium falllt amor, unquam natuvam fuixisse ingenium hoc una 
 prccsentius, proinptiua, oculatiiis, argutius, breviterquc dotibus 
 omnigenis absolutius. Accedit lingua ingenio par, turn inon/m 
 mira festivitas, salis plurimum sed candidi duntaxat, ut nihil 
 in CO desideres quod ad absolutwn pertineat patronum. 
 
 PVom the same sreat scholar we leani that More cou](i 
 not shake-off" his inclination for marriage, and he therefore 
 preferred being a chaste husband to an impure priest.* He 
 held in view at this time, it is said, as a pattern of life, 
 the virtuous and learned Johannes Picus of Mirandula, 
 whose life, letters, and precepts he translated into English, 
 and published them, f For his ghostly-father, adds his 
 great-grandson, he chose Colet, Dean of S«. Pauls ; Avhose 
 celebrated foundation of S'. Paul's school More compares 
 in one of his letters to the horse of Troy, from which many, 
 issued to subvert and overthrow ignorance and barbarity. 
 
 Stapleton hath preserved a letter from More to Colet, 
 which confirms the respect in which he held the dean, and 
 is a good picture of the state of his own mind at this time. 
 It is here translated. 
 
 THOMAS MORE TO DEAN COLET. 
 
 ' As I was w'alking lately in Westminster-hall, and musing 
 upon other people's affairs, I encountered your boy. When 
 I first saw him I rejoiced, for he was alway a favourite of 
 
 * Epist. to Hutten. f Eng. Works.
 
 24 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 mine, but more especially because I thought he could not 
 be here without you. But when I learnt from him that 
 you were not returned, and would be absent for a long 
 time, 1 cannot express to you from what joy into what 
 sadness I was cast. 
 
 ' For what can be more grievous to me than to be depriv- 
 ed of your sweet intercourse, whose most wise advice I was 
 accustomed to enjoy, with whose most delightful familiarity 
 to be recreated, by whose impressive discourses I have been 
 roused to goodness, by whose life and example I have been 
 amended, lastly, in whose very countenance and approba- 
 tion I have found contentment. Having under such au- 
 spices once felt strength and confidence, deprived of them 
 I naturally feel as it were in the wide world and unsup- 
 ported. And as lately, treading in your footsteps, I had 
 escaped almost from the jaws of hell, now again like Eu- 
 ridice, but by a contrary law (she, because Orpheus look- 
 ed back upon her, I, because you look not back upon me), 
 I relapse, I know not by what impulse or necessit3% into 
 my former obscurity. 
 
 ' For what is there in this town to incite any one to a good 
 life ? Or rather, Avhat is there which doth not, by a thou- 
 sand devices and allurements, draw him from the arduous 
 path of virtue, Avould his disposition guide him never so 
 well in it ? "N^'hcrever you go what do you hear but, in one 
 })lacc, the hum of feigned attachment or the honied poison 
 of flattery, in another, fierce hatreds, quarrels, strife, and
 
 SIR T. MORE. 25 
 
 litigation? Wherever you cast your eyes, what can you see 
 but victualling-houses, fishmongers, butchers, cooks, pud- 
 dingmakers, fishers or fowlers, who administer to the belly, 
 the world, and its prince the devil. The very houses seize 
 a good part of our light and suffer us not to behold the 
 sky ; and it is the altitiule of our buildings, not the extent 
 of our horizon, which boundeth our view. 
 
 ' From these causes I can the more readily foigive your 
 loving to abide still in the country. There you have sifn- 
 plicity, free from city craft. Wherever you turn your eye 
 the face of earth cheereth your view, the grateful temper- 
 ature of the air refresheth, the very aspect of heaven de- 
 lighteth you. Nothing occurs there to your view save the 
 bounteous gifts of uature and tokens of sacred innocence. 
 Yet would I not have you so enamoured of these delights 
 as not to return to us as soon as you can. If the city dis- 
 please you, yet Stepney (of which you are bound to be al- 
 so solicitous) may afford 3'ou comforts equal to those you 
 now enjoy. And thence you can occasionally visit the city, 
 in which you have so great opportunities for the exercise of 
 your goodness, 
 
 ' For since those in the country are harmless in them- 
 selves, or at least liable to less wickedness, any physician 
 will answer there. But from the height and inveteracy of 
 the disorder in town, any but the most skilful shall attempt 
 the cure in vain. It is true, there sometimes come into 
 the pulpit of S». Paul's those who promise a cure. But af- 
 
 A' OL. I. E
 
 26 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ler having appeared to preach with phiusibiliiy, tlicir hfe is 
 so much at variance with their precepts, that tliey heighten 
 more than they alleviate the complaint, Bi'l'iJ' themselves 
 sickest of any, they cannot persuaile others tiiat they are 
 fit persons to cure thern ; tbr io i)e l>andled by the diseased, 
 fills the diseased only with C<!:,tempt and aversion. 
 
 But if (as \\ic wise affirm) he is littest to restore health 
 m whop*, the sick liath most confidence, wlio can doubt 
 ^^at no one is so fit to cure the whole town as yourself? By 
 whom, with what satisfaction they sutt'er their wounds to 
 be handled, what confidence and obedience they shew you, 
 you have already sufficiently experienced ; and it is now 
 farther manifested by the love of all toward you, and the 
 certain incredible anxiety which prevails for your return. 
 Come then at length my dear Colet, either for your Step- 
 ney's sake, which bewaileth your absence day by day as 
 doth a child its mother, or for your country's sake which 
 you ought to regard as a parent ! Lastly, though this be 
 the least motive for your return, come for my sake, who 
 have devoted myself to you, and await your coming with 
 impatience. Meanwhile I pass my time with Grocyn, 
 Linacer, and Lilly. The first, as you know, is sole master 
 of my life in your absence ; the second, the preceptor of 
 my studies ; the thud, my dearest companion in all I un- 
 dertake. 
 
 * Farewell, and continue to love me as you have done/
 
 SIR T. MORE. 27 
 
 Colet in his turn admired his disciple, and would some- 
 times say, England had but one wit, and that was young 
 Thomas More.* 
 
 In a letter to Jodocus Jonas, Erasmus hath made Colet's 
 eulogium, and with it the panegyric of Vitriarius, a francis- 
 can. The characters of these eminent men, drawn by so 
 great a master, deserve perusal ; and if Erasmus hath not 
 given the reins a little to his imagination and embellished 
 his subject, it is no wonder that he so sincerely loved and 
 admired them. They were excellent ecclesiastics, with a 
 largeness of mind, a solidity of judgment, and a freedom 
 of thought and speech, far beyond their contemporaries, 
 very few excepted. In many things they bore no small re- 
 semblance to Erasmus ijimself. f 
 
 Colet it seems advised More to marry. ^ 
 
 In the number of j\lore' friends was John Colte, Esq. of 
 Newhall in Essex, a gentleman of good family, and who 
 had frequently invited More to visit him. The invitation, 
 it seems, was at last accepted, and it proved that Jvlr. Colte 
 had three daughters whose honest conversation and virtuous 
 education, if we believe Mr. Roper, or perhaps we may 
 suggest some other attractions more current with youth, 
 fixed his afiections in that family. On this occasion More 
 gave a remarkable instance of that peculiarity of character 
 which distinguished him through life. His natural predi- 
 
 * More. f Jortin. J More. 
 
 E 2
 
 2S .MEMOIRS OF 
 
 lection was in favour of tlic second daughter ; yet when he 
 considered, saith Roper, that it would he both great grief 
 and some shame to the eldest, to see her younger sister pre- 
 ferred hefore her in marriage, he then of a certain pity fram- 
 ed his fancy to her, and soon after married her. 
 
 It is to be wished that Mr. Roper had made use of al- 
 most any other expression than pity, in this passage. It 
 appears to be perfectly within the compass of More's very 
 peculiarcharactcr, that feeling for the disappointment which 
 the elder sister might experience in finding her younger 
 sister preferred to her in marriage, he might, before he 
 suftcred his heait to become too deeply engaged by the 
 second, endeavour at least to appreciate with candour and 
 aft'ection every excellence which he could discover in the 
 elder. Upon such a closer view of the merit which she 
 proved herself in the end to have possessed, it is possible 
 that he may have seen sufficient reason to satisfy his inclin- 
 ation of acting with what he in this case judged j;ro/?/7e/?/, 
 though the occasion, it is true, Avas a singular one for the 
 exercise of a lukewarm principle. 
 
 Erasnuis informs us that she was a very young girl, who 
 had never quitted her parents and sisters in the country. 
 This, he adds, was the more agreeable to his friend, as he 
 liad better prospect of forming her to his own manners ; 
 and he even took much pains in her education.* 
 
 ' £pist. to Hut ten.
 
 SIR T. MORE. no 
 
 As More lived four 3'ears among the Carthusians, we 
 may date this marriage 1507, when he was twenty-seven 1507. 
 years of age. By this wife Jane, who survived their union 
 only about six years, he had issue, Margaret, Elizabeth, 
 Cecilia, and John ; in virtue and learning, saith Mr. Roper, 
 hrought-icp from their youth ; whom he would often exhort to 
 take virtue and learning for their meat, and play for their 
 sauce. Upon his marriage he appears to have taken a house 
 in Bucklersbury, and to have renewed with assiduity his 
 application to the law.* 
 
 The year after More's marriage, Erasmus dedicated to isoa. 
 him his celebrated Praise of iolly, on which occasion, as 
 before to Whitford, the scholar highly compliments his 
 friend. Bayle, and after him Jortin and others, appears to 
 be riiistaken in dating this admired piece two years later' 
 and in saying it was written under More's roof; as may be 
 seen by the dedication itsclf.f 
 
 Edward IV died in More's infancy ; the short reigns of 
 Edward V and Richard III folloAved, and aftbrded him in 
 more advanced years a subject for historical composition ; 
 Henry VII had now filled the throne for twenty-three years, 
 and his death approached. It requires no great sagacity 
 to discover, that to keep the crown which singular good 
 fortune had given him, and to accumulate riches, were the 
 darling objects of this monarch's reign. The love of ac- 
 
 '^ * Roper. 
 
 t Jortin, Life Eras. 4'". i, 35. and ii, 169, contradicts himself.
 
 30 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 cumulation appears indeed to have been instinctive in liis 
 character, and time discovered that thouiih Cardinal Mor- 
 ton and Bray could not extinguish this propensity, they 
 were not without their endeavours in tempering it. P^nip- 
 son antl Dudley, their ibllowers, whose reputation had no 
 better basis than their servility, on the contrary, not only 
 seconded but inflamed this humour in Henry, and they led 
 the king to those extremities, which clouded his death with 
 remorse, and found sutHcient employment ior his successor 
 in assuaging them. 
 
 On wise considerations Henry had resolved to unite him- 
 sJelf closely with Ferdinand and Isabella of Castile and Ar- 
 ragon, and with the house of Burgundy against France, 
 the constant and dangerous enemy of England. A match 
 was therefore agreed to, between Arthur ])rince of Males 
 and Catharine the infanta of Spain ; whose eldest sister be- 
 ing married to Philip duke of Burgundy and earl of Flan- 
 ders, a triple alliance was formed between England, Sjiain, 
 and Burgimdy, against France. 'J'wo hundred thousand 
 ducats, the largest portion given for many ages with any 
 princess, made her no less acceptable to Henry VH. 
 
 Five months, however, had only claj)scd since the mar- 
 riage, when prince Arthur died ; and it proved, that his 
 widow was not in a state of pregnancy. The reasons of 
 state for preserving the alliance against France still existing, 
 and Henry feeling no inclination to ye/////</ the jointure, it 
 was proposed that Arthur's brother -Henry, now prince of
 
 S[R T. MORE. ?1 
 
 Welles and about tuelve years of age, should be contraet- 
 ed to Catharine. The good Warham, archbishop of Can- 
 terbury, acknowledged to the king that he thought the step 
 ndther honourable nor pleasing in the sight of God. l>ut 
 Fox, bishop of ^\^inchestcr, urged it, and the pope's dis- 
 pensation surmounted every objection. 
 
 It was no great wonder that the pope readily granted 
 what was so much for the interest of the papacy, though 
 some cardinals and divines opposed it. Julius II was an 
 enemy to Lewis XII, and wished to strengthen alliances 
 against him. Moreover, his consent on this occasion obliged, 
 as he thought, the succeeding kings of England to main- 
 tain the papal authority, since from it they derived their 
 title to the crown. But it is remarkable that by a mio-htier 
 decree than that of any temporal power, this act of Julius, 
 instead of strengthening, occasioned the very extirpation of 
 the papal dominion in this country. 
 
 Upon this bull Henry and Catharine were contracted. 
 But there is reason to believe, that though he had approv- 
 ed it as a politician, Henry VII repented of this step be- 
 fore he died. 
 
 More incurred Henry VII.'s displeasure, who wanted to 
 ruin him. He had been elected a burgess (by what means 
 doth not appear) and sat in tlie parliament in Avhich Henry, 
 yielding to his ruling passion, demanded a subsidy for the 
 marriage of his eldest daughter to the king of Scotland,
 
 32 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 rather in a view to his own cmohinient than to the rcpay- 
 nuMit of tlic dower whieh he had given with his ehiUl. On 
 this oceasion More gave an admirable instance of his in- 
 tegrity, patriotism, and courage, by the strength with which 
 he ariiued against the demand at that early aoe, undis- 
 mayed by the servile senate which surrounded him. Mr. 
 Tyler, a gentleman of the pri\'3'-chamber who was present 
 at tiie debate, hastened to inform the king that a beard- 
 less boy had frustrated his purpose, and Henry, incensed by 
 such an opposition to the darling propensity of his mind, 
 determined to lose no opportunity of revenge. The means 
 he employed were worthy of his avarice and rapacity, and 
 unworthy of his princely station. More's poverty exclud- 
 ing him from a reasonable prospect of gratiticaiion, the king 
 devised a groundless quarrel with his father, and Sir John 
 More was imprisoned in the Tower until he had paid a fine 
 of one hundred pounds. 
 
 More, shortly after this, met bishop Fox, a privy-coun- 
 sellor, who called him aside, and, pretending great kind- 
 ness, promised that if More would be guided by liis advice 
 he should soon be restored to the king's favour. But it af- 
 terward appeared, that the prelate's design was to inveigle 
 More into a confession of his offence, that a punishment 
 might be inflicted upon him with the semblance of justice. 
 More had, however, the prudence or good fortune to, escape 
 this snare. AMiitford, the bishop's chaplain, was More's 
 intimate friend. On consulting him, he advised More by 
 no means to follow Fox's counsel, for my Lord, to sei've the
 
 SIR T. MORE. 3S 
 
 king's turn, will not stick to agree to his own father'' s death. 
 More, of course, returned not to the bishop.* 
 
 His abode in England was indeed rendered so unplea- 
 sant to him by the king's anger, that he meditated a voyage 
 abroad, a design which was prevented by the death of 
 Henry VII in 1509.f In the interval he lived in retirement, 
 yet, as might be expected from a mind like More's, not 
 without profiting of the occasion by the cultivation of his 
 intellectual talents. We are told that he studied the French 
 language, history, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and 
 music, and became a practical proficient on the violin, ij: 
 His chief assistant in these pursuits was, probably, his ex- 
 traordinary memory, to which, he once expresscth a wish 
 that his wit and learning were equal. § 
 
 In his English woi'ks are preserved four more things which 
 Mayster Thomas More wrote in his youth for his pastime, and 
 which therefore belong to the present chapter. The first 
 of them hath been supposed to "iiave suggested to the cele- 
 brated Cowper the idea of his popular tale John Gilpin ; 
 but Mr. Hayley, the poet's biographer, disavo\\s the claim, 
 on grounds which perhaps many readers will deem suffi- 
 ciently satisfactory. This piece proves, what an attentive 
 reader will, in perusing our old writers, frequently remark, 
 that the familiar and colloquial part of our language, be- 
 ing disused among those classes which had no ambition of 
 
 * Roper and More. f Roper. t More. J Epist. pref. to Utopia. 
 
 Vol. I. F
 
 ■A ^iJiMOIRS OF 
 
 idhieuient or atYectatioii ol' novel Ly, Imtii suffered very little 
 cliaiiiro.* Our lan^uaoe was then in a great degree formed 
 and settled ; and it appears from Ben Jonsoii that More's 
 poems, as well as his prose, were considered by his con- 
 temporaries as models of elegance and purity in language, 
 though in general, like all the compositions of his age, they 
 are censurable on the score of languor and difi'useness. The 
 three last of these pieces recommend themselves more pe- 
 culiarly to our notice on the present occasion, from the 
 picture they afford us of the early impressions of More's 
 mind. 
 
 ' 9 mcrrg 3iC0t, hon' a Serjeant uould learn to play the Friar 
 
 Wise men .ilway 
 
 Adirm and say, 
 Tbat best 'tis for a man, 
 
 Diligently 
 
 For to apply * 
 'J'Lc business that he can ; 
 
 And in no wise 
 To enterprise 
 
 Another faculty. 
 
 For he that will 
 And can no skill 
 
 Is never like to theeh.t 
 
 • Johneon. ■}■ Thrive.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 35 
 
 He that hath left 
 The hosier's craft, 
 
 And falleth to making shone. 
 The smith that shall 
 To painting fall, 
 
 His thrift is well-nigh done. 
 
 A black draper 
 With white paper, 
 
 To go to writing school, 
 An old butler 
 Become a cutler, 
 
 I ween shall prove a fool. 
 
 And an old trot, 
 That can God wot 
 
 Nothing but kiss the cup, 
 With her physic 
 Will keep one sick 
 
 Till she have soused him up. 
 
 A man of law, 
 That never saw 
 
 The ways to buy and sell, 
 Weening to rise 
 By merchandise, 
 
 1 pray God speed him well. 
 
 A merchant eke 
 That will go seek, 
 
 By all the means he may, 
 To fall in suit 
 Till he dispute 
 
 His money clean away j 
 
 r 2
 
 56 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Pleading the law 
 
 For every straw, 
 Shall prove a thrifty man 
 
 With 'bate and strife, 
 
 But by my life 
 I cannot tell you whan. 
 
 When an hatter 
 
 Will go smatter 
 la philosophy, 
 
 Or a jjedlar 
 
 W^crc a meddler 
 In theology. 
 
 All that ensue 
 Such craftes new, 
 
 They drive so far a cast, 
 That evermore 
 They do therefore 
 
 Beshrew themselves at last. 
 
 This thing was tried 
 
 And verified 
 Here by a serjeant late 
 
 That thriftly was, 
 
 Ere he could pass, 
 Rapped about the pate, 
 
 While that he would 
 See how he could 
 
 Tn God's name play the frere ;. 
 Now if you will 
 Know how it fell 
 
 Take heed and vou shall hear.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 37 
 
 It happed so 
 
 Not long ago 
 A thrifty man there died, 
 
 An hundred pound 
 
 Of nobles round. 
 That had he laid aside. 
 
 His son he would 
 
 Should have this gold 
 For to begin withal ; 
 
 But to suffice 
 
 This child, well thrice 
 That money was too small. 
 
 Yet ere this day 
 I have heard say, 
 
 That many a man certes 
 
 Hath with good cast 
 Been rich at last 
 
 That hath begun with less. 
 
 But this young man 
 
 So well began 
 His money to employ, 
 
 That certainly 
 
 His policy. 
 To see it was a joy. 
 
 For lest some blast 
 
 Might overcast 
 His ship, or by mischance, 
 
 Men with some wUe 
 
 Might him beguile 
 And 'minisU his substance,
 
 3S MEIVroIttS OF 
 
 For to put out 
 
 All manner doubt, 
 He made a good purvey 
 
 For ev'ry whit 
 
 By bis own wit 
 And took auotber way. 
 
 First fair and well 
 Thereof much deal 
 
 He digg'd it iu a pot, 
 
 But then he thought 
 That way was nought 
 
 And there he left it not. 
 
 So was be fain 
 
 From thence again 
 To put it in a cup ; 
 
 And by and by 
 
 Covetously 
 He supped it fairly-up. 
 
 In his own breast 
 
 He thought it best 
 His money to inclose, 
 
 Then wist lie well 
 
 Whatever fell 
 He could it never lose. 
 
 He borrow 'd then 
 
 Of otlur men 
 INIoney and merchandi^, 
 
 Kcver paid it, 
 
 I'p he laid it 
 In like manner wise.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 39 
 
 Yet on tlie gear 
 That Ue would wear 
 
 He rought not what he spent, 
 So it were nice, 
 As for the price 
 
 Could him not miscontent. 
 
 With lusty sport 
 And with resort 
 
 Of joly com[)any 
 
 In mirtli and play 
 Full many a day 
 
 He lived merrily. 
 
 And men bad sworn 
 Some man is born 
 
 To have a lucky hour, 
 And so was he, 
 For such degree 
 
 He gat and such honour. 
 
 That without doubt 
 When he went out, 
 
 A Serjeant well and fair 
 Was ready strait 
 On him to wait 
 
 As soon as on the may'r; 
 
 But he doubtless 
 Of his meekness 
 
 Hated such pomp and pride 
 And would not go 
 Companied so 
 
 But drew lumsell aside.
 
 40 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 To Saint Cath'rine 
 
 Strait as a line 
 He gat him at a tide, 
 
 For devotion 
 
 Or promotion 
 There would he needs abide. 
 
 There spent he fast 
 
 Till all was past 
 And to him came there many 
 
 To ask their debt 
 
 But none could get 
 The value of a penny. 
 
 With visage stout 
 
 He bare it out 
 Even unto the hard hedge, 
 
 A month or twain. 
 
 Till he was fain 
 To lay his gown to pledge. 
 
 Then was he there 
 
 In greater fear 
 Than ere that he came thither, 
 
 And would as fain 
 
 Depart again 
 But that he wist not whither 
 
 Then after this 
 
 To a friend of his 
 He went, and there abode, 
 
 Whereas he lay 
 
 So sick alway 
 He might not come abroadc
 
 SIR T. MORE. 4gt 
 
 It happed than 
 
 A merchant maa 
 That he ow'd money to 
 
 Of an officer 
 
 Then 'gan enquire 
 What him was best to do; 
 
 And he ans'red 
 
 " Be not afraid 
 Take an action therefore 
 
 I you behest, 
 
 I shall him 'rest 
 And then care for no more." 
 
 I fear quoth he 
 
 It will not be 
 For he will not come out. 
 
 The sergeant said 
 
 " Be not afraid 
 It shall be brought about. 
 
 In many a game 
 
 Like to the same 
 Have I been well in ure, 
 
 And for your sake 
 
 Let me be bake 
 But if I do this cure." 
 
 Thus part they both, 
 
 And forth then go'th 
 Apace this officer 
 
 And tor a day 
 
 AU his array 
 He changed with a frere. 
 
 Vol. I. G
 
 4f MEMOIRS OF 
 
 So was he ilight 
 That no man might 
 
 Him for a frerc deny 
 
 I le tlopp'd and dook'd 
 He spake and look'd 
 
 So religiously. 
 
 Yet in a glass 
 
 Ere he would pass 
 He toted and he peer'd 
 
 His heart for pride 
 
 Lept in his side 
 To see how well he frer'd. 
 
 Then forth apace 
 Unto the place 
 He goelh in God's name 
 • To do this deed ; 
 
 But now take heed, 
 For here begins the game. 
 
 He drew him nigh 
 
 And softily 
 Straight at the door he knocL'd 
 
 And a damsel 
 
 That heard him well 
 There came and it unlock'd. 
 
 The friar said 
 
 God speed fair maid 
 Here lotlgcth such a man 
 
 It is told me ; 
 
 Well Sir, quoth she, 
 And if he do what than ?
 
 SIR T. MORE. 43 
 
 Quoth he, mistress 
 
 No barm doubtless, 
 It 'longeth for our order 
 
 To hurt no man, 
 
 But as we can 
 Every wight to farther. 
 
 With him truly 
 Fain speak would I. 
 
 Sir, quoth she, by my fai 
 He is so sick 
 You be not like 
 
 To speak with him to-day. 
 
 Quoth he, fair mai 
 
 Yet I you pray 
 This much at my de>ire 
 
 Vouchsafe to do, 
 
 As go him to 
 And say an Austin friar 
 
 Would with him speak 
 And matters break 
 
 For his avail certain. 
 
 Quoth she, I will 
 Stand you here still 
 
 Till I come down again. 
 
 Up did she go 
 And told him so 
 
 As she was bid to say. 
 He mistrusting 
 No manner thing 
 
 Said, maiden go thy way 
 
 G 2
 
 11 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 And fetcli liim liithcr 
 That we together 
 
 May talk. Adown she go'th. 
 Up she him brought 
 No Lami slie thought 
 
 But it made some folk wroth. 
 
 This ofBccr 
 This feigned frcre 
 
 When he was come aloft 
 He dopped than 
 And greet this man 
 
 Religiously and ofl. 
 
 And he again 
 Riffht fflad and fain 
 
 Took him there by the hand, 
 Tlie friar then said 
 You be dism.iy'd 
 
 With trouble I understand. 
 
 Indeed, quoth he, 
 
 It hath wiih aie 
 Been better than it is. 
 
 Sir, quoth the frerc. 
 
 Be of good cheer, 
 Yet shall it after this. 
 
 For Christ his sake 
 
 Look that you take 
 No thought within your breast : 
 
 God may turn all. 
 
 And so he shall 
 I trust, unto the best.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 45 
 
 But I would now 
 
 Commune with you, 
 la counsel if you please, 
 
 Or elles not, 
 
 Of matters that 
 Shall set your heart at ease. 
 
 Down went the maid, 
 The merchant said 
 
 Now say-on gentle frere, 
 Of this tiding 
 That you me bring 
 
 I long full sore to hear. 
 
 When there was none 
 
 But they alone 
 The friar with evil grace 
 
 Said, I 'rest thee, 
 
 Come on with me, 
 And out he took his mace> 
 
 Thou shalt obey 
 Come on thy way 
 
 I have thee in my clutch 
 
 Thou go'st not hence 
 For all the pence 
 
 The may'r hath m his pouch. 
 
 This merchant there, 
 For wrath and fear 
 
 He waxing-well nigh wood, 
 Said, whoreson thief, 
 With a mischief, 
 
 Who hath taught thee thy good
 
 46 MEMOIRS 01' 
 
 And with liis fist 
 
 Upon the list 
 lie gave him such a blow 
 
 That backward down 
 
 Abnost in swoon 
 The friar did overthrow. 
 
 Yet was this man 
 
 Well feardcr than 
 Lest he the fri'r bad slain 
 
 Till with good raps 
 
 And licavy claps 
 He duwdc him up again. 
 
 The friar took heart 
 
 And up he start 
 A nd well lie laid about 
 
 And so tlierc go'th 
 
 Between tlicm both 
 Many a lusty clout. 
 
 They rent and tear 
 Each others hair 
 
 Vnd clave together fast 
 Till with lugging 
 And with tugging 
 
 They fell down both at last. 
 
 Then on the ground 
 
 Togctlier round 
 With many a sad stroke 
 
 They roll and rumble, 
 
 They turn and tumble 
 As pigs do in a poke.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 47 
 
 So long above 
 
 They heave and shove 
 Together, that at last 
 
 The maid and wife 
 
 To break the strife 
 Hied thetn upward fast. 
 
 And v?hen they spy 
 The captains lie 
 
 Both weltring on the place 
 The friar's hood 
 They pull'd agood 
 
 Adown about his face. 
 
 While he was blind 
 The wench behind 
 
 Lent him laid on the floor 
 Many a joll 
 About the noul 
 
 With a great battledoor. 
 
 The wife came yet 
 And with her feet 
 
 She holpe to keep him down 
 And with her rock 
 Many a knock 
 
 She gave him on the crown. 
 
 They laid his mace 
 About his face 
 
 That he was wood for pain 
 The friar frap 
 Gat many a swap 
 
 Till he was full nigh slain.
 
 48 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Up they bim lift 
 
 And witli ill thrift 
 Headlong along tlie stair 
 
 Down Ihcy liim threw 
 
 And said adieu, 
 Commatd us to the mat/r. 
 
 The friar arose 
 
 But I suppose 
 Amazed was his head 
 
 He shook his ears 
 
 And from great fears 
 lie thought iiim well afled. 
 
 Quoth he, now lost 
 
 Is all this cost 
 Wc be never the near, 
 
 111 must he thceh 
 
 That caused me 
 To make myself a frcrc. 
 
 Now masters all 
 Here now I shall 
 
 End there as I began, 
 In anywise 
 1 would advise 
 
 And counsel ev'ry man, 
 
 His own craft use 
 
 All new refuse 
 And lightly let them gone 
 
 Play not the frere ; 
 
 Now make good cheei 
 And welcome ev'ry chone.
 
 SIR T. MORE 49 
 
 ' €8c tt)Oct»0 of i?ortune to the People. 
 
 Mi.VE liigh estate, power, and authority 
 
 If ye ne know, eascarch and ye shall spy 
 That riches, worship, wealth, and di<,'nity 
 
 Joy, rest, and peace, and all things finally 
 
 That any pleasure or profit may come by 
 To man his confort, aid, and sustenance, 
 Is all at my devise and ordinance. 
 
 AYithout my favour there is nothing won, 
 
 Many a matter have I brought at last 
 To good conclude that fondly wixs begun, 
 
 And many a purpose, bounden sure and fast 
 
 With wise provision, I have overcast. 
 Without good hap there may no wit suffice, 
 Better 'tis to be fortunate than wise ! 
 
 And therefore have there some men been ere this 
 
 My deadly foes, and written many a book 
 To my dispraise. And other cause there n'is 
 
 But for me list not friendly on them look. 
 
 Thus like the fox they fare, that once forsook 
 The pleasant grapes, and 'gan for to defy them 
 Because he lept and yet could not come by them. 
 
 But let them write, their labour is in vain ; 
 
 For well ye wot, mirth, honour, and riches 
 Much better is than penury and pain. 
 
 The needy wretch that ling'reth in distress 
 
 W ithout my help, is ever comfortless, 
 A very burden, odious and loath 
 To all the world, and eke to himself both. 
 
 Vol. I. H
 
 JM» MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Uut he tliat by my favour may asccnil 
 
 To njiglity pow'r and excellent degree, 
 
 A commonweal to govern and defend, 
 
 O 1 in how bless'd condition slandeth he, 
 Himself in honour au<l felicily, 
 
 And over that, may farther and cncreasc 
 
 A region whole in joyful rebt and peace. 
 
 Now in this point there is no more to say, 
 
 Each man hath of himself the governance ; 
 
 Let every wii^ht then follow his own way. 
 
 And he that out of poverty and luLschancc 
 List for to live, and will himself eniiance 
 
 In wealth and riches, come-forth and wail on mc ; 
 
 And he that will be a beggar, let him be.' 
 
 ' Cgomnss i^orc to them who trust in Fortune. 
 
 Tiiou (hat art proud of honour, shape, or kin. 
 
 That hcapest-up this wretched world its treasure, 
 
 Thy fingers shriii'd with gold, thy tawny skin 
 
 AV'ith fresh apparel garnish'd out of measure, 
 And weenest to have Fortune at thy pleasure ; 
 
 Cast-up thine eye, and look how slipp'ry chance 
 
 Illudeth her men with change and variance. 
 
 Sometime she look'th as lovely, fair, and bright 
 As goodly Venus, mother of Cupid, 
 
 She beckcth and she smil'lh on every wight ; 
 But this chear feigned may not long abide, 
 There com'th a cloud, and farewell all our pride. 
 
 Like any serpent she beginn'lh to swell 
 
 And look'th as fierce as any fury of hellt
 
 SIR T. MORE. 51 
 
 Yet for all that, we brittle men are fain, 
 So wretched is our nature and so blind. 
 
 As soon as fortune list to laugh again 
 
 With fair countenance and deceitful mind, 
 To crouch and kneel and gape after the wind ; 
 
 Not one or twain, but thousami> in a rout. 
 
 Like swarming bees, come flickermg her about. 
 
 Then as a bait she bringeth forth her ware, 
 
 Silver and gold, rich pearl and precious stone, 
 
 On which the amazed people gaze and stare 
 And gape therefore as dogs do for a bone. 
 Fortune at thenr laugheth, and in her throne 
 
 Amid her treasure and wavering riches 
 
 Proudly she heaveth as lady and empress. 
 
 Fast by her side doth weary Labour stand 
 Pale Fear also, and sorrow all bewept, 
 
 Disdain and. Hatred on that other hand 
 
 Eke restless watch, from sleep with travail kept. 
 His eyes drowsj and looking as he slept. 
 
 Before her standeth Danger and Envy, 
 
 Flatt'ry, Deceit, Mischief, and Tyranny. 
 
 About her cometh all the world to beg ; 
 
 He asketh land ; and He to pass would bring 
 This toy and that, and all not worth an egg ; 
 
 He would in love prosper above all thing ; 
 
 He kneeleth down and would b • made a king ; 
 He forcetli not so he may money have, 
 Tho' all the world account him for a knave. 
 
 H 2
 
 52 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Lo thus ye sec, divers heads divers wits, 
 Fortune, alone as divers as they all, 
 
 Unstable, here and there among tiiem ilits, 
 
 And at a venture down her gifts tliey fall ; 
 Catch whoso rnnj', she throweth great and small, 
 
 Not to all men as comcth sun or dew, 
 
 But for the most part, all among a few. 
 
 And yet, her brittle gifts long may not last. 
 
 He that she gave them looketli proud and high, 
 She whirl'th about and pluck'th away as fast 
 
 And giv'th them to another by and by. 
 
 And thus from man to man continually 
 She iis'th to give and take, and slily toss 
 One man to winning of another's loss. 
 
 And when siic robbclh one, down go'th his pride. 
 
 He wecp'th and wail'th and curscth her lull sore. 
 
 But he who receiv'th it on t'other side 
 
 Is glad and bless'th her oftentimes therefore. 
 But in a while, when she lov'th him no more. 
 
 She glideth from him, and her gifts they too, 
 
 And he her curseth as other fools do. 
 
 Alas ! the foolish people cannot cease', 
 
 Nor 'void her train till the}' the harm do feel. 
 
 About her alway busily they press ; 
 
 But Lord ! how hcdolh think himself full well 
 That may set once hts haiKi upon her wheel. 
 
 Tie holdcth fast ; but upward as he sty'th. 
 
 She whipp'th her wheel about, and there he li'th
 
 SIR T. MORE. 53 
 
 Thus fell Julius from his miglity power, 
 
 Thus fell Darius, the worthy king of Perse, 
 
 Thus fell Alexander, the great conqueror. 
 
 Thus many more than I may well rehearse. 
 Thus double Fortune, when she list reverse 
 
 Her slipp'ry favour from them that in her trust. 
 
 She fli'th her way and li'th them in the dust. 
 
 She suddenly enhanceth them aloft 
 
 And suddenly mischieveth all the flock, 
 
 The head that late lay easily and full toft 
 
 Instead of pillows li'th after on the block. 
 And yet, alas the most cruel proud mock 
 
 The dainty moutli that ladies kissed have 
 
 She bringeth in the case to kiss a knave. 
 
 In changing of her course the change shcw'th this, 
 
 Up start'th a knave and down there fall'th a knight, 
 
 The beggar rich and the rich man poor is, 
 Hatred is turned to love, love to dcspight ; 
 This is her sport, thus proveth she her might. 
 
 Great boast she niak'th if one be by her pow'r 
 
 Wealthy and wretched both within an hour. 
 
 Poverty, that of her gifts will nothing take, 
 With merry cheer looketh ujjon the press 
 
 And seeth how Fortune's household go'th to wreck. 
 Fast by her standeth the wise Socrates, 
 Aristippus, Pytliagoras, and many a leash 
 
 Of old philosophers. And eke against the son 
 
 Baketh him poor Diogenes in his tun.
 
 54 JIEMOIRS OF 
 
 With her is Bias, whose country lack 'J defence 
 And whilom of their foes stood so in doubt 
 
 That each man hastily 'gan to carry thence 
 
 And asked him, why he nought carried out ? 
 / bear, quoth he, uU nmc zcilh vie about. 
 
 Wisdom he meant, not Fortune's brittle tecs, 
 
 For nought he counted his which he might lecsc. 
 
 lleraclitus eke list fellowship to keep 
 
 With glad poverty. Democritus also. 
 
 Of which the first can nevtT cease but weep 
 To see how thick the bUnded people go, 
 With labour great, to purcliase cure and woe. 
 
 That other laugh'th to see the loolisli apes 
 
 How earnestly they walk about their jap«s.* 
 
 Of this poor sect it is common usage, 
 
 Only to take that nature may sustain, 
 
 Banishing clean all other surplusage 
 
 They be content and of nothing complain. 
 No niggard eke is of his good so fhin 
 
 But they more pleasure have a thousand fold 
 
 The secret draughls of nature to bi'hold. 
 
 Set Fortune's servants by them an ye wull. 
 That one is free, that other ever thrall, 
 
 That one content, that other never full. 
 That one in surety, t'other like to fall. 
 Who list to advise them both, perceive he shall 
 
 As great diff'rence between them, as we sec 
 
 Betwixt wretchedness and felicity. 
 
 • J«t«.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 53 
 
 Now have I shew'd ye botb, choose which ye list, 
 Stately Fortune or humble poverty ; 
 
 That is to say, now li'th it in your fist 
 To take here bondage or free liberty. 
 But in this point an ye do after me, 
 
 Draw ye to Fortune, labour her to please 
 
 f that ye think yourselves too well at ease. 
 
 And first upon thee lovely shall she smile 
 
 And friendly on thee cast her wandering eyes, 
 
 Embrace thee in her arms, and for a while 
 Put thee and keep thee in fool's paradise ; 
 And forthwith all, whatso thou list devise, 
 
 She will thee grant it liberally perhaps, 
 
 But for all that, beware of afterclaps. 
 
 Reckon you never of her favour sure. 
 
 You may in clouds as eas'ly trace an hare, 
 
 Or in dry land cause fishes to endure, 
 
 And make the burning fire his heat to spare, 
 And all this world in compass to forfare. 
 
 As her to make by craft or engine stable 
 
 That of her nature is ever variable. 
 
 Serve her day and night, as reverently 
 Upon thy knees as any servant may, 
 
 And in conclusion, that thou shall win thereby 
 Shall not be worth thy service I dare say. 
 And look yet, what she giveth thee to-day 
 
 With labour won, she shall haply to-morrow 
 
 Pluck it again out of thine hand wth sorrow.
 
 56 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 WLereforc, if tliou in surety list to stand, 
 
 Take Pov'rty's part and let proud Fortune go, 
 
 Receive no tiling that cometh from licr hand. 
 Love manner and virtue, they be only tlio' 
 Which double Fortune may not take thee fro. 
 
 Then mayst tliou IjoUlly defy lier turning chance, 
 
 Siie can tliee neither kinder nor advance. 
 
 But an thou wilt needs meddle with her treasure. 
 Trust not therein and spend it lib'rally, 
 
 Bear thcc not proud, nor take not out of m'.'asurc, 
 Build not thine house on high up in tlie sky. 
 IS'one fallctli far but lie who climbeth high. 
 
 Remember nature sent thee hither bare, 
 
 The gifts of Fortune, count them borrowed ware.' 
 
 ' '2DSoma0 i^cit to than nho seek Fortune. 
 
 Wiioso delighteth to proven and assay 
 
 Of wavering Fortune the uncertain lot, 
 
 If that the answer please you not alway 
 
 Blame you not me, for I command you not 
 Fortune to trust ; and ckc full well you wot 
 
 I have of her no bridle in my fist, 
 
 She runneth loose and turneth where she list. 
 
 The rolling dice in which your luck doth stand. 
 
 With whose unhappy chance you be so wroth. 
 
 You know 3 ourself came never in my hand. 
 Lo in this pond be fish and frogs they both, 
 Cast in your net, but be you lief or loath, 
 
 Hold you content as Fortune list assign 
 
 For it is your own fishing and not mioe.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 9f 
 
 And though in one chance Fortune you offend, 
 Grudge not thereat but bear a merry face, 
 
 In many another she shall it amend. 
 
 There is no man so far out of her grace 
 But lie sometime hath comfort and solace ; 
 
 Nor none again so farforth in her favour 
 
 That is full satisfied with her behaviour. 
 
 Fortune is stately, solemn, proud, and high, 
 And riches giv'th to have ser\'ice therefore. 
 
 The needy beggar catch'th an halfpenny, 
 
 Some man a thousand pounds, some less, some more. 
 But for all that she keepeth ever in store 
 
 From ev'ry man some parcel of his will, 
 
 That he may pray therefore and ser^e her still. 
 
 Some man hath good but children hath he none, 
 
 Some man hath both but he can get none healthy 
 
 Some hath all three, but up to honour's throne 
 Can be not creep by no manner of stealth. 
 To some she sendeth children, riches, wealth, 
 
 Honour, worship, and rev'rence all his life. 
 
 But yet she pincheth him with a shrew 'd wife. 
 
 Then forasmuch as it is Fortune's guise 
 
 To grant no man all things that he will aksj 
 
 But, as herself list order and devise. 
 
 Doth ev'ry man his part divide and tax ; 
 I counsel ye, each one truss-up your packs 
 
 And take nothing at all, or be content 
 
 With such reward as Fortune hath you sent. 
 
 Vol. I.
 
 58 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 AU things ■which in tliis book that you bhiill read. 
 Do as jou list, there shall no man you bind 
 
 Them to believe as surely as your creed, 
 But notwilhslandiiig certcs in my mind 
 J durst well swear, s true you shall them find 
 
 In every point cacli answer by and by 
 
 As are the judgments of astronomy.'
 
 SIR T. MORE. 59 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Accession of Henry VIII. . . . Consummation of his marriage with 
 Catharine of Arragon. . . . More re-appears in the world and writes 
 verses on the coronation. . . . Anecdote of Emson and Dudley. . . . 
 Morels attachment to Erasmus. . . . He is made one of the under- 
 sheriffs. . . . His high estimation as a lawyer. . . . He replies to Dor- 
 pins. . . . His second wife. . . . Henry desires to engage him in his ser- 
 vice. . . . He accompanies Tonstall to Flanders. . . . His letter to Eras- 
 mus on his embassy. . . . Busleiden and ^gidius. . . . Mare's letter to 
 
 Jf'arham. . . . He pleads a cause for the t)ope. . . . I nighted, &c 
 
 His account of his first advancement. . . Henry's earlier court. . . . 
 The king's intimacy with More. . . . Luther. . . . Erasmus persecuted. 
 .... More expected the reformation. . . . Edtvard Lee attacks Eras- 
 mus. . . . More defends him. . . . Brixius attacks More. . . . Erasmus 
 defends him. . . . More's letter to the university of Oxford. , , . He is 
 made speaker of the commons. . . . His speech on the occasion. . . . 
 Anecdotes of JFolsey and More. . . . JVolsey wishes to send him to 
 Spain. . . . Progress of Luther. . . . Henry writes against him, and 
 More is suspected. . . . Luther's reply and Boss' rejoinder. . . . Eras- 
 mus writes against Luther. . . . More is exhorted to zvrite. . . . His 
 character in the Ciceronianus. . . . He is made chancellor of the 
 duchy of Lancaster. . . . Anecdote of the king and More. . . . More 
 is sent on foreign embassies. . . . His sicccess at Cambray. . . . His loss 
 iyfre, and letter to his wife, 
 
 I 2
 
 60 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 r EW princes have ascended a throne with the more de- 
 cided satisfaction of their subjects than did Henry VIII. 
 In the place of a monarch sinking deeper in jealousy, avarice, 
 and severity, as he advanced in years, men beheld a prince ^ 
 young, handsome, accomplished, wealthy, and prodigal ; 
 who, in the eye of experience, gave flattering promises of 
 future conduct, much more in that of popular cnthusiasmi 
 The nobility, humbled by the policy of his father, crowded 
 to gain his favour and to share his profusion. Tlie pleasures 
 and gallantry of the age were assembled at his court. His 
 father, to remove him from the knowledge of business, had 
 engaged him in literature. The proficiency he made was 
 no bad prognostic of his parts, and lie became a lover of 
 learning and the learned. His vehemence and ardour 
 (wliich in time degenerated into tyranny) were interpreted 
 as the failings of youth. The contending titles of York 
 and Lancaster were united in him, and that impartiahty of 
 administration was expected which had long been unknown 
 in our country. In a word, the English rejoiced in the 
 death of Henry VII, and had great expectations from his 
 son ; but alas ! he lived to disappoint these hopes and prov- 
 ed a tyrant. 
 
 One of the first measures which engaged the new king's 
 attention, was the celebration of his marriage with the 
 widow of his brother. Lord Herbert informs us that the 
 king's graver counsellors told him, the same reasons which 
 induced Henry VII to the match with Spain, first in tlie
 
 SIR T. MORE. 61 
 
 person of Arthur, and after his premature death in young 
 Henry's own person, were still in force ; that his preten- 
 sions on France made an alliance with that power unne- 
 cessary, while they rendered the united opposition of Spain 
 desirable ; and that there were natural causes of good neigh- 
 bourhood sufficient to maintain him in friendship with 
 Maximilian the emperor. 
 
 Catharine, moreover, declared herself to be still a virgin, 
 and had given many proofs of her virtuous and amiable 
 character. Ferdinand, her father, had given ample com- 
 mission to his ambassador here, and the lady's presence 
 would save time as well as expence ; but should she depart 
 the kingdom, a large dower must be yearly remitted iiom 
 the country. That scriptural authority might not be want- 
 ing, this passage was quoted ; If brethren dwell together 
 and one of them die and have no child, the wife of the dead 
 shall not marry without imto a stranger, her husband's brother 
 shall go in unto her and take her to him to wife, and perform 
 the duty of an husband's brother unto her : and it shall be 
 that the frst-born which she beareth shall succeed in the name 
 of his brother which is dead, that his name be not put out of 
 Israel.* The dispensation formerly obtained from the pope 
 was also urged ; and in fine, about six weeks, after his fa- 
 ther's death, the consummation of Henry's marriage took 
 place with Catharine of Arragon, his brother's widow. 
 
 More, now about thirty years of age, re-appeared in the 
 
 * Deuter. xxv. 5.
 
 m MEMOIRS OF 
 
 general reanimation at the commencement of the reign in 
 which he was destined to be so great and so unfortunate ; 
 and probabl}' to greater advantage than before, from the 
 cultivation of his character and his acfjuircments in soli- 
 tude under the royal displeasure. His classical pen Avas 
 called-forth on the coronation, and the poem * he wrote in 
 Latin is an elegant compliment to Henry and his queen, 
 and a severe satire on the reign of his rapacious father. 
 The dedication concludes with the cmphatical words vale 
 princeps illustriasime, et, qui nevus ac varus rcgum titulus 
 est, amatissiine. 
 
 When Emson and Dudley, those vile ministers of Henry 
 VII.'s rapacity, were leading to execution, in consequence 
 of their attainder by the young king in his infant populari- 
 ty, though at the expence of his father's fame. More, \vith 
 his usual archness, though without his accustomed huma- 
 nit}', is said to have interrogated Dudley, Iiaie not I doixe 
 better than you ? Dudley is said to have congratulated More 
 in reply, that he did not ask forgiveness of Henry VII as 
 he had been advised to do.f 
 
 The character of the good Erasmus, though it was as 
 yet but little celebrated, had, it seems, its due influence 
 on the discernment of More. The acquaintance they had 
 formed at college, cherished by the similarity of their minds 
 and their studies, appears by this time to have lipencd in- 
 to a strong attachment, and they now corresponded by let- 
 
 • Vol. ii. of this. t More.
 
 . SIR T. .MORE. 63 
 
 tcr whenever they were apart from each other. When tlic 
 great scholar agaui visited Enghmd in 1510, he is saiil, on ijio. 
 his arrival, to have lodged with More. Dr. Jortin and 
 others are, however, mistaken in ascribing to this meeting 
 the composition of the celebrated Praise of Folly by Eras- 
 mus in a week, to divert himself and his friend, as we have 
 akeady seen in the preceding chapter. 
 
 Soon after Henry's accession ]\Iore was appointed one of 
 the under-sheriffs of the city of London, by which office 
 and his profession he was heard to say that he now gained, 
 without scruple of conscience, above ^400 per annum. There 
 was at this time no cause of importance in which he was- 
 not retained on one side or the other; and ybr his learning, 
 wisdom, knozvledge, ^and experience, men had such estimation, 
 continues Mr. Koper, that bejore he came into the service of 
 king Henry VIII, at the suit and instance of the English 
 merchants, he was, by the king's consent, made twice ambas- 
 sador in certain great causes betwixt them and the Jiierchants 
 of the Stilyard. Erasmus, in his letter to Hutten, also gives 
 us a high character of the request in which the talents of 
 his friend were held, as well as of his integrity and modera- 
 tion. Thus More, persevered for the present with assiduity 
 in his profession, and he was twice appointed reader at 1512. 
 Lincolns-inn, viz. in the third and sixth years of Henry ^^^^' 
 VIIL* 
 
 But his heart was too disinterested, and his mind too ex- 
 
 * Roper and Dugdale.
 
 M MEMOIRS OF 
 
 pansivc, to confine him rigidly to tlie duties of his pro- 
 fession. Thus Ave find him in the hitter of these years en- 
 listing in the cause of fiiendship and replying to Dorpius, 
 a divine of Louvain, who had written against the Praise of 
 Folly. While others contented themselves with reviling the 
 good scholar over their cups or in private, Dorpius was the 
 first who wrote against Erasmus. He condemned the Mo- 
 ria? Encomium, as a satirical work in which the author ri- 
 diculed all orders and professions ; not excepting even the 
 ecclesiastics, who have commonly pretended that their 
 function should serve them for a passport. He moreover 
 endeavoured to dissuade Erasmus from imdertaking the 
 New Testament, but graciously permitted him to publish 
 S*. Jerom. 
 
 Knowing his youth and ductility, and that he had been 
 inveigled by others into this attack, Erasmus replied with 
 his usual mildness. He clcared-up some points to Dorpius, 
 continued in the true charity of his heart to live on good 
 terms with him, and even lamented his death. His friend 
 More also replied to Dorpius in a long and laboured epistle, 
 which is preserved among his Latin works. In this letter 
 More proves the necessity of studying the Greek language, 
 of which Dorpius had spoken with contempt ; and he ex- 
 poses in civil language the ignorance, impertinence, and 
 malevolence of the attack upon Erasmus. Whatever mo- 
 tive influenced Dorpius, he was highly culpable for treat- 
 ing of subjects which he understood not, and for being the 
 first in such an attack. A nuilignant mind and a mean
 
 SIR T. MORE. M 
 
 spirit must have prompted him to condemn writings which 
 he could not imitate, and to endeavour to make the man 
 odious who was affording the pubhc important instruc- 
 tion.* 
 
 More's first wife, as we have already remarked, survived 
 their union only about six years ; and two or three years 
 after her death,f which brings us to our present period, he 
 mai'ried Mrs. Alice Middleton, a widow with one daugh- 
 ter, by whom he had no children. More used to say of 
 this lady, that she was nee bella, iiec puella, and the great- 
 grandson's account of her and of her mairiage with More 
 are curious. 
 
 * This (he writes) he did not of any concupiscence, for 
 he would often affirm that chastity is more hardly kept in 
 wedlock than in a single hfe ; but because she might have 
 care of his children, which were very young, from whom 
 of necessity he must be very often absent. She was of 
 good years, of no good favour nor complexion, nor very 
 rich ; by disposition very near and worldly. I have heard 
 it reported, he wooed her for a friend of his, not once think- 
 ing to have her himself But she wisely answering him, 
 that he might speed if he would speak in his own behalf, tell- 
 ing liis friend what she had said unto him, with his good 
 liking he married her, and did that Avhich otherwise he 
 would perhaps never have thought to have done. And in- 
 deed her favour, as I think, could not have bewitched, or 
 
 * Jortin. + More. 
 
 Vol. I. K
 
 86 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 scarce ever moved any man to love her. But yet she prov- 
 ed a kind and careful mother-in-law to his children, as he 
 was alway a most loving father unto them ; and not only to 
 his own, but to her daughter also, who was married to Mr. 
 Alin^ton and mother to Sir Giles Alington.' 
 
 The same writer informs us that More taught this wife 
 music with a view to render her less worldly. 
 
 "NVoIsey was already high in dignity ; and More's fame 
 having by this time attracted Henry's attention, the king 
 desired the cardinal to engage him also in his service. 
 Wolsey, we are told, acted honestly at least on this occa- 
 sion, and endeavoured to accomplish the king's wish. He 
 represented to More the importance of his services, and as- 
 sured him (for perhaps then he understood not Henry's 
 character) that royal bounty could not but repay them with 
 liberality. More was not, however, to be prevailed upon, 
 for the present at least, to exchange the independent sta- 
 tion which his ability as a lawyer now gave him, for that 
 of a courtier ; and the excuses he made were for this time 
 admitted.* No man ever strove harder, says Erasmus, to 
 gain admittance at court, than More strove to keep out of 
 it.t 
 
 He accepted, hmvever, a diplomatic appointment in as- 
 1516. sociation with Cuthbert Tonslall in the year 1516; and pro- 
 ceeded with him to Flanders, to meet the ambassadors of 
 
 • Roper and More. -f Epist. to Hutten.
 
 SIR T. MORE. m 
 
 Charles prince of CastUe, on affairs, as he informs * us, of 
 no small importance. Yet even this service appears to have 
 been protracted longer than was perfectly agreeable to More, 
 though it produced him, on his return, the offer of a pen- 
 sion. To this offer, perhaps, the king's desire to retain 
 More in his service may have materially contributed. In a 
 letter written to Erasmus soon after his return, and pre- 
 served in his Latin works, More gives a very agreeable ac- 
 count of this expedition. 
 
 ' Our embass}' (he writes) for this too, as all else which 
 concerneth me, interests you, hath proceeded happily 
 enough, save that the affair was drawn into greater length 
 than I either expected or wished. For, on leaving home, 
 I looked for an absence of hardly two months, but con- 
 sumed above six on that embassy. Yet a conclusion suf- 
 ficiently agreeable was the result of this long delay. But 
 seeing the business on which I went brought to an end, and 
 other matters arising one out of the other which appeared 
 the initials of still greater delay (a circumstance never want- 
 ing on diplomatic occasions), I wrote to the cardinal for 
 leave to return, and used, among other friends, the assist- 
 ance of Pace chiefly on the occasion, who had not 3^et left 
 England. On my way home I met him unexpectedly at 
 Gravehnes, and in such a hurry that he could hardly stop to 
 greet me. 
 
 ' This office of ambassador never pleased me. Neithei* 
 
 • Utopia. 
 
 K 2
 
 G8 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 is it likely to suit us laymen so well as it doth you eccle- 
 siastics, who either have no wives and children at home, or 
 find them Avherever you come. We, when we have been a 
 Jittie while absent, long to be home again on their accounts. 
 And again, when an ecclesiastic sets-out, he may take his 
 whole family whither he will, and maintain them abroad at 
 the expence of kings, wlicn he must have done it at home 
 at his own. But when I am absent I have two families to 
 support, one at home and one abroad. The provision made 
 by the king for those I took with me was sufficiently li- 
 beral ; yet no regard was had to tliose who must be left at 
 home, none of whom, you will conceive, I could desire to 
 feel any want during my absence, as you know what a hus- 
 band, father, and master I wish to be. 
 
 * Lastly, princes can repay such as you without any 
 cost to themselves ; but with regard to us, this is not so 
 easy. Nevertheless, on my return, a pension would have 
 , been given me by the king (an offer, in point of honour or 
 profit, not to be despised), but I have hitherto dechned it, 
 and think I shall continue to do so. For if I accept it, my 
 present situation in this city, which I prefer to a higher 
 one, must either be relinquished, or, which I should be 
 very much against, be held with some dissatisfaction to our 
 citizens ; with whom and their prince, should any question 
 arise as to their privileges (which sometimes occurs), they 
 would think me less true to their cause because I was in- 
 debted to the king for my pension.
 
 SIR T. MORE. ay 
 
 ' For the rest, some occurrences in my embassy gave me 
 peculiar delight. And first, my long and constant inter- 
 course with Tonstall ; than whom no man is better inform- 
 ed in every elegant attainment, no man more correct in his 
 conduct or agreeable in his conversation. Then I formed a 
 friendship with Busleiden, whose fortune gave him to treat 
 me magnificently, and his goodness, courteously. The ele- 
 gance of his house, his excellent domestic economy, the 
 monuments of antiquity he possesses (in which you know 
 I take peculiar delight), lastly, his exquisite library, and 
 his still more eloquent breast, completely astonished me. — 
 But in the whole of my peregrination, nothing was more 
 agreeable to me than the company of your friend ^gidius 
 of Antwerp ; a man so learned, merry, modest, and tmly 
 friendly, that may I perish if I would not freely give a 
 good part of my property only to enjoy constantly his in- 
 tercourse." 
 
 Hieronymus Buslidius, here alluded to, an ecclesiastic 
 of the Low countries, died very soon after this period, and 
 bequeathed his property to the academy of Louvain, to 
 erect a college where Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, should be 
 taught. This noble institution gave offence to the illiterate 
 divines who harboured there, while Erasmus, a living water 
 in the desert, extolled Busleiden's liberality. They are 
 vexed, he writes, that three tongues should be in request, 
 and had rather remain as they are, double-tongued ; indeed 
 there is no teaching a new language to such old parrots,* 
 
 • Epirt. 338.
 
 7a jMEMOiRs or 
 
 To iEgidius of Antwerp, also commended in this letter, 
 More addressed his Utopia, which celebrated piece was 
 written about this time. In the prefixed epistle the reader 
 Avill find an agreeable picture of More's present avocations; 
 but, he complains, they left him no leisure for literary pur- 
 suits. 
 
 The good Warham, choosing rather to retire from public 
 employment than to maintain an unequal contest with 
 AVolsey, resigned his office of chancellor. Stapleton hath 
 preserved a letter written to him by More on this occasion, 
 and accompanied by a copy of Utopia, which is interest- 
 ing on account of the subsequent similar resignation of 
 More. It is here translated. 
 
 Thomas More to Archbishop Wai^iam. 
 
 * I have ever, good father, reckoned yours a happy lot. 
 ] 'irst, while you discharged with so much celebrity the of- 
 fice of chancellor, and now still hapj)ier, when, having re- 
 signed that office, you have betaken yourself to a desirable 
 repose in which you may live to God and yourself- a re- 
 pose, I say, not only more agreeable than were those oc- 
 cupations, but in my opinion more honourable than were 
 all your honours. Many, and sometimes the worst of men, 
 may be in office ; you held the highest, and one which car- 
 ries great authority in the execution, and which is obnoxi- 
 ous to sufficient calumny on the resignation of it. To lay 
 it down then, as you did, of your own accord (the permis-
 
 SIR T. MORE. 7i 
 
 sion for which I know cost you much trouble), none but a 
 modest man would have wished, none but an innocent one 
 have dared. 
 
 ' You have many to appreciate and admire your con- 
 duct, and myself am not among the least strenuous on this 
 occasion. Indeed, I know not, whether most to applaud 
 your modesty in voluntarily relinquishing so high and splen- 
 did an office, your greatness in dispising dignity, or the in- 
 nocence of your administration in being fearless of the con- 
 sequence. Your conduct was certainly most exxellent and 
 wise ; nor can I express how strongly I congratulate this 
 your singular felicity, how much I rejoice for you, when I 
 see you, good father, remote from secular employment, re- 
 ceding from forensic tumult, enjoying the honourable fame, 
 the rare glory, of your well administered and Avell-resigned 
 office ; and, joyful in the consciousness of your past life, 
 calmly devoting your remaining time to letters and philo- 
 sophy. 
 
 ' My own comparative misery makes me think daily 
 more and more of this your happy condition. For, although 
 I have no occupations worth the naming, yet, as weakness 
 is easily overcome, I ara so busy, that I have neither time 
 to pay my respects to you in person, nor to apologize by 
 letter for my omission. Thus I have hardly time to write 
 you this, with a view of recommending to your favour this 
 ill-finished httle book, which a too partial friend of Ant- 
 werp, precipitated as it was rather than polished, thought
 
 73 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 worthy of the press and printed it •without my knowledge. 
 Although I think it unworthy of your dignity, experience, 
 and learning, yet, satisfied as I am of your kindness and 
 candour toward every endeavour, and having individually 
 felt your goodness, I have the boldness to send it you ; and 
 hope, tiiough the work prove of little worth, its author 
 shall find some favour with you. 
 
 ' Farewell most worthy prelate.' 
 
 An incident not long afterward occurred, which drove 
 More into the distinction he had so studiously avoided. A 
 valuable ship of the pope's coming into Southampton, and 
 being claimed as prize by Henry Vlil, the legate applied 
 to the king, that his master might have counsel assigned 
 him learned in the laws of this kingdom, to defend his 
 cause ; and, as his majesty was himself a great civilian, it 
 was requested that the cause might be tried publicly, and 
 in his presence. More had the honour of being chosen, as 
 the propcrest lawyer of the time, to be counsel for the 
 pope, and to report the arguments in Latin to the legate, 
 A hearing of the cause was appointed before the chancellor 
 and the judges in the star-chamber. Our advocate plead- 
 ed with so much learning and success, that not only was 
 the ship restored to the pope, but himself, adds Mr. Roper, 
 among all the hearers, for his upright and commendable de- 
 meanour therein so greatly renowned, that for no entreaty 
 would the king from henceforth he induced any longer to for- 
 bear his service.
 
 SJR T. MORE. 73 
 
 Having no better place at that time vacant, Henry at 
 first made More Master of the Requests, and a month af- 
 terward knighted him and made him a privy-counsellor. 
 The precise date of these honours is not very certain, but 
 we may safely limit them to the year 1517* Weston, 1517. 
 treasurer of the exchequer, dying some time afterward, the 
 king without sollicitation gave that place also to More.-f- 
 
 Of his first advancement the knight afterward wrote this 
 curious account in a letter to bishop Fisher, which is here 
 translated from Stapleton. 
 
 ' I came most unwillingly to court, as every one know- 
 eth, and as the king himself sometimes in joke tells me. 
 And to this day I seem to sit as awkwardly there, as one 
 who never rode before sitteth in a saddle. But our prince, 
 though I am far from being in his especial favour, is so af- 
 fable and kind to all, that every one, let him be ever so 
 diffident, findeth some reason or other for imagining he 
 loveth him ; just as our London matrons persuade them_ 
 selves that our Lady's image smileth upon them as they 
 pray before it. I am neither so fortunate as in reality to 
 perceive such favourable tokens, nor of so sanguine a tem- 
 perament as even to flatter myself that I do so ; yet such 
 are his majesty's virtue and learning, and such his daily in- 
 creasing industry, that seeing him the more and more ad- 
 vance in good and truly royal accomplishments, I the less 
 and less feel this court life to hang heavily upon me.' 
 
 * Lord Herbert. f Roper. 
 
 Vol. L L
 
 74. MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Nor was More singular in this his favourable opinion of 
 Henry's earlier court, although royal favour may be sup- 
 posed to have had some influence upon his judgment. The 
 fragrance of her honourable fame, saith Erasmus, smellcth 
 sweetly everywhere ; for she hath a king possessing every 
 worthy, princely attribute, a queen his fellow, and a num- 
 ber of worthy, learned, sedate, and discreet subjects.* 
 
 Wc arc now therefore to behold More in a very dilferent 
 situation from those in which Ave lately viewed him. We 
 find him taken from his practice as a lawyer, and from the 
 condition of a private gentleman, to become an officer of 
 state and the favourite of a king — taken we may truly say, 
 for he certainly acquiesced in the royal favour, rather in 
 obedience to the king than to gratify any passion of his 
 own for power and grandeur. His simplicit}' of heart pro- 
 babh' gave him a disrelish for the courts of princes and their 
 intrigues, and it is possible that he may have already sur- 
 mised from Henry's character the j)robable inconstancy of 
 his favour. Under every advancement, we shall find that 
 he still preserved the plainness and integrity which distin- 
 tinguishcd him in private life. A superior station served 
 but for a time to call-forth his superior talents ; and in the 
 end it displayed his superiority of character under the se- 
 veiest of human trials. 
 
 In the first years of his promotion, ^ve are told Henry 
 was in the habit of frequently sending for Sir Thomas and 
 
 * Epist. to Guilford.
 
 SIR T. MORE, 75 
 
 confening with him in private in his closet on astronomy, 
 geometry, divinity, and other subjects, as well as on af- 
 fairs of state. They sometimes even ascended together in 
 the night to the top of the house to observe, as well as 
 converse of, the heavenly bodies ; * a trait worthy of the 
 early and more innocent 3'ears of Henry VIII, and a strik- 
 ing contrast to his subsequent character. The kino- holds 
 More in such intimacy, saith Erasmus, that he never suf- 
 fereth him to leave him — if he wanteth him in serious mat- 
 ters, he hath not a better adviser ; if to relax his mind, he 
 knoweth not a more festive companion.f 
 
 The company of Sir Thomas was indeed, it seems, so 
 agreeable, that the king and queen frequently sent for him 
 in the evening about this time, to he merry with them, saith 
 Mr. Roper. This went so far, that the affectionate prin- 
 ciple which the knight retained in his advancement, I must 
 chat ziith }nij wife and prattle with my children, % was ia 
 danger of usurpation. His conversation became so enter- 
 taining to the king and queen, that he could not once in a 
 month obtain permission to spend an evening with his fa- 
 mily ; nor could he be absent from the court two days in 
 succession without being called for. More, however, just- 
 ly considered the claims of his family in this particular as 
 superior to those of his sovereign. Restraining, therefore, 
 the natural vivacity of his disposition, he caused his con- 
 versation in the roj'al presence to become by degrees less 
 
 * Roper. f Epist. to Hutten. % Utopia. 
 
 L 2
 
 76 iAlEMOIRS OF 
 
 and less attractive ; and tlie consequence M'as, that his time 
 became more his own.* 
 
 Leo X was at this time everywhere pubUshing his imlul- 
 gciiccs, to raise money under pretence, of waging war with 
 the Turks say some, of bui ding S'. Peter's church say others. 
 The dominicans being employed by him in Germany on 
 this occasion, the augustinians, who pretended that the of- 
 fice belonged to them, were irritated. Martin Luther, pro- 
 fessor of divinity at AVittenberg, and an augustinian, among 
 others, examined this doctrine of indulgences. Finding it, 
 as he thought, full of error, and being gifted by nature with 
 an independence and intrepidity of character which would 
 not allow him on such an occasion to remain a silent or in- 
 active spectator, he publicly refuted it in 1517. 
 
 From this time, Erasmus began to be most maliciously 
 persecuted by the ecclesiastics. They loudly complained 
 that his bold and free censures of the monks, their pious 
 grimaces and superstitious devotions, had opened the way 
 for Luther. Erasmus, they said, laid the egg, and Luther 
 hatched it. The religious disputes which opened the scene 
 produced religious wars and cruel persecutions, a state of 
 affairs sufficiently afflicting to More's mild and gentle friend, 
 who often complained that his endeavours to reconcile the 
 opposite parties, only drew upon him the resentment of 
 both.-j' The minorite brethren, he said, deserved to be 
 
 * Roper. t Jortin.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 77 
 
 complimented as wits for their joke, but he laid. a hen's egg 
 and Luther hatched a yery different bii'd.* 
 
 With his strong attachment to the church of Rome, it -< 
 seems from the following anecdote that Sir Tliomas expect- 
 ed one day the success of the reformation in this country, 
 and perhaps his knowledge of Henry's temper contributed 
 to the surmise. Mr. Roper says, when he commended to 
 More the happy estate of this realm, which had so catholic 
 a prince that no heretic dared to shew his face, so virtuous 
 and learned a clergy, so grave and sound a nobility, and 
 so loving, obedient subjects, all in one faith — the knight 
 replied, truth it is indeed son Roper, and even exceeded 
 him in commendation ; and yet son Roper, he continued, 
 J pray God that some of us, as high as we seem to sit upon 
 the mountains, treading heretics under our feet like ants, live 
 not the day that we would gladly he at league and composi- 
 tion with them, to let them have their churches quietly to themr- 
 selves, so that they would be contented to let us have ours 
 quietly to ourselves. 
 
 Edward Lee began also about this time to attack Eras- 
 mus, and to stir-up the divines against him. He not only 
 treated the good scholar as one of little erudition and no 
 judgment, but as an heretic and an enemy to the church ;. 
 and did all he could to run him down and ruin him. Eras- 
 mus in return hath often said, the earth never produced an 
 animal more vain, arrogant, scurrilous, ignorant, foolish, 
 
 * Zpitt. 719-
 
 7S MEMOIRS OF 
 
 and malicious, tl)au Lee. Yet this man was advanced at 
 court, lie was chaplain and ahnoner to Henry VIII, was 
 afterward employed by the king on several embassies, and 
 lastly, was made archbishop of York. 
 
 IVIore, though a constant friend to Lee, was much dis- 
 1^19- pleased at his quarrelling with Erasmus. In 1519, and 
 subsequent years, he wrote three letters to Lee, which arc 
 reprintetl by Dr. Jortin in the appendix to his life of Eras- 
 mus. They inform us that he would have dissuaded Lee 
 from publishing his censures of his friend, that he was very 
 sorry when they were published, that lie thought him far 
 inferior to Erasmus as well in knowledge and ability as in 
 credit and interest with the learned world, and that he 
 judged this exploit would draw infamy and contempt upon 
 the writer, and even an odium upon the English. Thus 
 our Lee (adds the Doctor), who, had he kept the fool with- 
 in doors, might have passed for a tolerable divine, chose 
 rather to purchase renown, such as it was, by heading the 
 clamorous half-learned censurers of Erasmus and of all re- 
 formations. Among those indeed he might hope to make 
 a figure though not among more eminent persons, and it is 
 no wonder that an ambitious man should choose rather to 
 be the leader of a paltry sect, than to be lost among scholars 
 of the second or third class. 
 
 Lee was ever an enemy to the reformation, and is ex- 
 tolled, as might have been expected, by Wood, Stapleton,
 
 SIR T. MORE. 79 
 
 More's great-grandson, and others. Bishop Burnet gives us 
 a juster account of him. 
 
 Soon after this vindication of his friend, Sir Thomas was 
 himself attacked. Brixius, or, as his contemporary Rabe- 
 lais calls him, de Brie, had written a poem in 1513, intituled 
 Chordigera, describing an action of that year between the 
 English ship Regent and the French ship la Cordeliere. As 
 he had given a false account of the engagement, and in- 
 sulted and calumniated the English, More wrote several 
 epigrams in derision of the poem. Brixius, picqued at the 
 aftront, revenged himself by an elegy which he intituled 
 Antimoi-us, in which he severely censured all the faults 
 which he thought he had found in the poems of More ; but 
 this piece was not published till 1520, and then at Paris in 
 compliance with the wishes of the author s friends. *^ 
 
 Erasmus, in a very good letter to Brixius, civil]}^ though 
 freely, insinuated to him that he was a very child compared 
 to More, and launched out as usual in praise of his English 
 friend.f- More at first despised the poem, and wrote to 
 Erasmus that, to prove to the world the contempt in wliich 
 he held it, he had a design of reprinting it himself. J He, 
 however, afterward wrote an answer to it ; Avhich was no 
 sooner puljlished, than he received a letter from Erasmus, 
 wisely exhorting him to pass the matter in silent contempt, 
 for that alone was the conduct which the attack deserved. 
 Sir Thomas soon saw his error, and, following his friend's 
 
 ■* La Moiinoye, Menagi^n iii. 115 > + Epist. 511. % Latin works. - 
 
 1520.
 
 80 MEMOIRS or 
 
 advice, he immediately recalled the publication, so that 
 very few copies of it escaped into the world.* Yet Eras- 
 mus, although he was capable of giving his friend this good 
 advice, had certainly himself too nmch of this very sensi- 
 lii-lity when attacked by malicious and inconsiderable ad- 
 ^ ' versaries. Such characters require a friend to advise them, 
 ^. •■ leave these men to themselves, they cannot live in their own 
 
 jp»* writings, why should they live in yours ? and it is, after all, 
 
 no such terrible matter to be misrepresented as a dunce, 
 when time and truth must put folly to tlight.-f- 
 
 To this period also. Wood ascribes the proof which More 
 gave of his zeal for learning, by his letter to the university 
 of Oxford on the study of Greek. i\fter Grocyn came 
 thither to teach Greek, a serious opposition was manifest- 
 ed to his progress. A faction of the students, denominat- 
 ing themselves Trojans, and who had their Priam, Hector, 
 Paris, (Sec. declared themselves enemies to what they called 
 the new learning, and one of them had the impudence to 
 attack the Greeks trom the university pulpit. More wrote 
 a well-timed letter ;{: in Latin to the universit3> and observ- 
 ed that even Cambridge, ever her inferior as a seminary, 
 promoted the study of Greek ; that her own chancellor 
 Warham, Cardinal Wolsey, nay the king himself, wished to 
 encourage it; and that therefore it was probable these ri- 
 diculous Trojans, the enemies of useful learning, would in 
 the end have the old proverb applied to themselves, sero sa- 
 inunt Phryges. 
 
 * More. t See Jortin. J Printed at Oxford in 4'°. l633.
 
 sm T. MORE. 81 
 
 In the parliament holden at Blackfriars in the year 1523, 1^23. 
 Sir Thomas More was chosen speaker. He was very desir- 
 ous of being excused from this office, and addressed the 
 king to that effect in a speecli which hath not been pre- 
 served.* His remonstrance, however, proving ineffectual, 
 he was obliged to comply, and he made the following speech 
 upon the occasion, preserved by Mr. Roper, which is here 
 presented to the reader as a specimen of the eloquence of 
 the knight, and of the manner of the age. 
 
 Sir Thomas Mare's Speech on being appointed Speaker. 
 
 ' Since I perceive, most redoubted sovereign, that it 
 standeth not with your pleasure to reform this election and 
 cause it to be changed, but have by the mouth of the most 
 reverend father in God my lord legate, your highness' chan- 
 cellor, thereunto given your royal assent, and have of your 
 benignity' determined, far above thai I may bear, to enable 
 me, and for this office to repute me, meet ; rather than you 
 should seem unto your commons that they had made an 
 unfit choice, I am therefore and alway shall be ready, obe- 
 diently to conform myself to the accomplishment of your 
 highness' pleasure and commandment. 
 
 ' In most humble Avise beseeching your most noble ma- 
 jesty, that I may, with your grace's favour, before 1 far- 
 ther enter thereinto, make my humble petition for two low- 
 
 * Roper. 
 
 Vol. I. M
 
 ^a MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Iv petitions; the one piiviitely concerning myself, the other 
 the whole asscniljjy of your conunon-housc. 
 
 ' For myself, gracious sovereign, that if it mishap me, 
 in anything hereafter that is on liie behalf of your com- 
 xnons in your high presence to be declared, to mistake my 
 message, and, in tiie lack of good utterance, by my mis- 
 rehearsal to pervert or impair their prudent instructions, it 
 may then like your most noble m^ijest}', of your aliundant 
 grace, with the eye of your wonted pity, to pardon my 
 simpleness; giving me leave to repair again to the common- 
 house, and there to confer with them, and to take their sub- 
 stantial advice, what things and in whatwise I shall on their 
 behalf utter and speak before your noble grace, to the in- 
 tent their prudent devices and affairs be not, by my simple- 
 ness and folly, hindered or impaired. Which thing, if it 
 should so happen, as it were like to mishappen me if your 
 gracious benignity relieved not my oversight, it could not 
 fail to be, during my life, a perpetual grudge and heaviness 
 to my heart. The help and remedy whereof, in manner 
 afore remembered, is, my gracious sovereign, my first low- 
 ly suit and humble petition unto your noble grace. 
 
 ' My other humble request, most excellent prince, is 
 this. Forsomuch as there be of your connnons, here by 
 your high commandment assembled for your parliament, a 
 great number, who are, after your accustomed manner, ap- 
 pointed in the common-house to entreat and advise of the 
 common ati'airs among tliemselves apart; and albeit, most
 
 SIR T. MORE. 83 
 
 dear leige lord, that according to your prudent advice by 
 your honourable writs everywhere declared, there hath been 
 as due diligence used in sending-up to your highness' court 
 of parliament the most discreet persons out of every quar- 
 ter that men could esteem most meet thereunto, whereby 
 it is not to be doubted that there is a very substantial as- 
 sembly of right wise, meet, and politic persons ; yet, most 
 virtuous prince, since among so many wise men neither is 
 every man wise alike, nor among so many alike well witty 
 every man alike well spoken, and it often happeneth that 
 likewise as much folly is uttered with painted polished 
 speech, so many boisterous and rude in language see deep 
 indeed and give right substantial counsel ; and since also 
 in matters of great importance the mind is so often occu- 
 pied 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, while his mind is fer- 
 vent in the matter, somewhat to speak in suchwise, as he 
 would afterward wish to have been uttered otherwise, and 
 yet no worse will had he when he spake it, than he had 
 when he would so gladly change it ; therefore, most graci- 
 ous sovereign, considering that in your high court of par- 
 liament is nothing treated but matter of weight and im- 
 portance concerning your realm and your royal estate, it 
 could not fail to let and put to silence from the givino- of 
 their advice and counsel many of 3'our discreet commons, 
 to ihe great hinderance of the common affairs, except that 
 exeiy one of your commons were utterly discharged of all 
 
 M 2
 
 81 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 cloubts and fears, how anything that it should happen them 
 to speak should happen of your higlniess to be taken. ' 
 
 ' And in this point, though your well-known an<l proved 
 benignity putteth every man in good hope, yet such is thtr 
 weight of the matter, such is the reverend dread that the 
 timorous hearts of 3'our natural subjects conceive toward- 
 your iiigh nrajesty, our most redoubted king and undoubted 
 sovereign, that they cannot in this point fmd themselves stv- 
 tisHed, exce])t your gracious bounty, therein declared, put 
 away the scruple of their timorous minds, and animate and 
 encourage them and put them out of doubt. 
 
 ' It may therefore, like your most abundant grace, our 
 most benign and godly king, to give all your conmions 
 here assembled your most gracious licence and pardon, free- 
 ly, without doubt of your dreadful displeasure, every man 
 to discharge his conscience, and boldly, in every thing in- 
 cident among us, to declare his advice. And, whatsoever 
 liaj)i)en any man to say, that it may like your majesty of 
 your inestimable goodness to take all in good part; inter- 
 preting every man's words, how cunningly soever they be 
 couched, to proceed yet of good zeal toward the profit of 
 your realm and honour of your royal person ; the prosper- 
 ous estate and preservation whereof, most excellent sove- 
 reign, is the thing which we all, your loving subjects, ac- 
 cordmg to our most bounden duty, of our natural allegi- 
 ance, most highly desire and pray for.'
 
 SIR T. MORE. 85 
 
 It is probable that tlie design of the knight in this speech 
 was to remonstrate against the known haughtiness Avilh 
 which Henry VIII treated his parhaments ; and, under co- 
 Jour of the profoundest awe and veneration, to reprove the 
 sovereign for his arbitrary restraint on debate. In this point 
 of view, the speaker manifesteth more dexterity than at first 
 sight may appear ; a compUance with his haughty humour' 
 in this submissive language, being the only manner in which 
 the king could be reproved or thwarted with a hope of suc- 
 cess.* 
 
 Of this parliament the following anecdote is related. Wol- 
 sey, at this time in the zenith of his greatness, had express- 
 ed his displeasure, that no sooner was anything said or 
 done in the house of commons than it was blown abroad in 
 every alehouse. When the large subsidy was afterward de- 
 manded, the cardinal; fearing opposition fi'om tiie com- 
 mons, determined to be present in their house at the time 
 the motion should be made. A debate in consequence arose 
 in that house, Avhether he should be received with a fbw of 
 his lords only, or with the whole number. The majority of 
 the house were of the former opinion ; but the speaker ob- 
 served "\ntii his usual archness, forasmuch as my lord car- 
 dinal lately laid to our charges 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 
 pillarSf pollaxes, his crosses, his hat, and the great seal too ; 
 H the intent that if he find the like fault with us hereafter, 
 
 * Warner.
 
 86 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 we may he the bolder from ourselves to lay the blame, on those 
 whom his grace bringeth hither with him. 
 
 Wolsey was received accordingly, and spoke witli solem- 
 nity on the necessity of the grant. The commons heard him 
 to an end in silence, and then made no reply. lie address- 
 ed himself to some of the members in particular, but re- 
 ceived no answer, for they had resolved to communicate 
 with him through their speaker only. At last he demanded 
 an answer of the speaker, who, continues Kopcr, Jirst re- 
 verently on his knees excusing the silence of the house, abash- 
 ed at the presence of so noble a personage able to amaze the 
 wisest in a realm, and afterward by many probable arguments 
 proving that Jor them to make answer it was neit^ier expedient, 
 nor agreeable with the ancient liberty of the house, in conclu- 
 sion for himself shewed, that though they had all with their 
 voices trusted him, yet except every one of them could put in^ 
 to his head of their several wits, he alone in so weighty a mat- 
 ter was unft to make his grace answer. 
 
 ISIore seconded the subsidy from the beginning,* and this 
 farce was played only upon the insolence of the cardinal ; 
 who, adds Mr. Rojier, displeased with Sir Thomas More who 
 had not in this parliament in all things satisfied his desire, 
 suddenly arose and departed. 
 
 A few days aftei-ward, Sir Thomas being in Wolsey's gal- 
 lery at ^^ hitehall, the Utter said to him, would God you 
 
 * Lord Herbert.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 87 
 
 had been at Home Mr. More zi-hen I made ijoii speaker. Your 
 grace not offended, so would I too, replied More ; I like this 
 gallen/ mij lord, much better than your gallery at Hampton- 
 court.^ This perhaps broke-ofi" a quarrel for the time, but 
 the fact was, as Erasmus Justly observes in one of his let- 
 ters, that the cardinal feared the knight more than he loved 
 him. 
 
 He gave a proof of this afterward, by his endeavour to 
 persuade the king to send Sir Thomas to Spain as ambassa- 
 dor. When Henry proposed it to More, the knight, pre- 
 possessed, says Mr. Roper, that the king by sending him 
 thither would send him to his grave, represented to his ma- 
 jesty how unlikely he was to render him acceptable service 
 there, yet was ready as in duty bound to fulfil his pleasure, 
 though at the ex pence of his life. It is not our pleasure 
 Mr. More to do you hurt, but to do you good would we be 
 glad, replied IJenry, in the better language of his heart ; 
 we will therefore for this purpose devise upon some other, and 
 employ your service otherwise. 
 
 In the meantime the intrepid Luther, jiursuing the career 
 which, as we have seen, he had commenced in 1517, had 
 detected the corruption of the court ol Rome, her obstinacy 
 in adiiering to established error, and her inditJerence to 
 truth, and tiom uttering some doubts as to the divine oiiginal 
 of the papal authority, he at last shook the firmest founda- 
 tions upon which the wealth and power of the church were 
 
 • Roper.
 
 88 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 established. Henry \'lll, in addition to his rigorous acts 
 lor preventing lutheranism tioni invading his rcahii, liad 
 pul)hshcil a treatise against J.utiier wiiich obtained him 
 Irom tlic pope the well-known title Defender of the faith. 
 From More's supposed instrunjentality in this publication, 
 wc shall iind that he was afterward accused as the cause of 
 Henry putting a sword into the pope's hand to fight against 
 himself. But the knight, we shall also find from his own 
 letters, pleaded ?iot guilty to this accusation. He owns 
 that, by the king's aj)iK)intn»ent, and by consent of the 
 writers, he was a sorter-out and placer of the principal con- 
 tents of the tract ; but it seems that More in fact advised 
 Henry to insist less strenuously than he did on the pope's 
 authority, from a foresight perhaps of the inconstancy of 
 the monarch's character. 
 
 Luther replied to Henr}^ and, Mith his usual bluntness, 
 treated his majesty as a liar and a blasphemer. A rejoinder 
 appeared in the year 1523, under the name A\ illiam Ross, 
 which hath been generally ascribed to Sir ThonMS, and is 
 reprinted as his production in his Latin works. The writer, 
 whoever he ma^' have been, not only endeavoured to refute 
 the arguments, but also followed in a blameablc degree the 
 too prevailing custom of the time in aiming to ctjual the 
 abuse, of his adversary. The soundest sense and the strong- 
 est argument, Avhen thus disfigured by the rancour of party 
 spirit, and even scurrility, not only lose the weight they 
 naturally possess, but their tendency Avill generally be found
 
 . SIR T. MORE. 89 
 
 to be, that they chiefly disgust the reader by the deformity 
 of the picture with which they present him. 
 
 The good Erasmus, not gifted by nature with the courage 
 of a martyr, probably felt his worldly interests too much at 
 stake to allow him to enter early and with freedom into 
 these controversies. The importunate solicitations of the 
 Roman party induced him, however, at last, to take the 
 field by the publication of his dissertation on freewill. This 
 piece was written with the good scholar's usutd moderation 
 and candour ; yet it produced a reply from Luther in a se- 
 vere strain of ridicule and invective, in his treatise De servo 
 arbitrio. Erasmus was, with sufficient reason, much pro- 
 voked at a treatment so rude and unmerited, which drew 
 from him in rejoinder the first part of his Hyperaspistes. 
 
 More's strong attachment to the church of Rome, ren- - 
 dered him of course no tiiend to the great cause. We have 
 a letter* of his to Erasmus in 1525, containing much spite 1525. 
 and acrimony against the reformers, with pressing exhorta- 
 tions to him to publish the last-mentioned work. And two 1597 
 years later, we have bishop Tonstal's licence to him for read- 
 ing heretical books, and an exhortation to him to imitate 
 the great example of his king, by employing his leisure in 
 answering them. That this advice was not in vain, we have 
 pretty voluminous testimonies in IMore's published works ; 
 but we will advert more fully to the subject of his writino-s 
 in our last chapter. 
 
 * Erasm. Epist. 334. 
 
 Vol. I. N
 
 90 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 The celebrated Ciceronianus of Erasmus, one ot" the most 
 ingenious and lively of his productions, in Avhich he agree- 
 ably rallies certain Italian purists who scrupled to use any 
 1523. word or phrase not to be Ibund in Cicero, came out in 1528. 
 'J'he author's account of his friend More at this time is in- 
 terestinfT. 
 
 ' Fateor ingeniuni fclicissimc natum, et quod nihil nou 
 potuisset efticerc si totum his studiis vacare licuisset. Civ- 
 terum, iilo pucro, vix tenuis odor literaturae mclioris denii- 
 grarat in Angliam. Deindc parentum auctoritas ad leges 
 ejus gentis discendas, quibus nihil illiteratius, adcgit ; mox 
 in causis agendis exercitatus, hinc ad reipublicie numia vo- 
 catus, vix succisivis horis respicere potuit ad eloquentiae 
 stu(ha. Tandem in regiam pertractus, et regni regiorumque 
 negotiorum undis immcrsus, magis aniare j)otcst studia (juam 
 colere. Et tamen dicendi genus quod assecjuutus est, ma- 
 gis vergit ad Isocraticam structuram ac dialecticam subtili- 
 tatem, quam ad I'usum illud Ciceronianaj dictionis tlumcn j 
 quanK|uani urbanitatc nihilo ]\I. TuUio inlierior est. Quo- 
 niam autem adolescens tliu versatus est in poematibus scri- 
 bendis, poetam agnoscas et in oratione prosa.' 
 
 About this time died Sir Richard Wingfield, in whose 
 room, without solicitation, the king made Sir Thomas More 
 chancellor of the duchy of Lancaster.* The knight indeed 
 grew into such favour Avith his majesty, that he was some- 
 times honoured with a visit from the king at Chelsea, his 
 
 *' Roper and Eratmui.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 91 
 
 present residence, without previous notice. One day Henry 
 came thither to dinner unexpectedly, and after dinner walk- 
 ed in iVlore's garden for an hour, with one arm round the 
 knight's neck. 
 
 ' As soon as his grace was gone, relates Mr. Roper, I re- 
 joicing thereat, said to Sir Thomas Alore, how happy he 
 was whom the king had so familiarly entertained as I never 
 had seen him do to any other, except cardinal Wolsey, 
 whom I saw his grace walk once with arm in arm. I thank 
 our Lord, son, quoth he, IJind his grace my very good lord 
 indeed, and I believe he doth as singularly favour me as any 
 subject within this realm. Ilowbeit son. Roper, I may tell 
 thee, I have no cause to be proud thereof ; for, if my head 
 would win him a castle in France (for then was there war be- 
 twixt us) it should not fail to go.' This anecdote proves that 
 More already understood Henry's character well. 
 
 While Sir Thomas was chancellor of the duchy, he Avas 
 twice employed in foreign embassies in commission with 
 Wolsey, once to the emperor Cliarles in Flanders, and again 
 in France.* In 1529 he was appointed to accompany Cuth- I029. 
 bert Tonstall to Cambray, where he assisted in tlie tieaty 
 called after that place .-f* 
 
 Here, Mr. Roper informs us, the knight worthily haiidled 
 himself, procuring in our league far more benefits unto this 
 realm, than at that time by the king or his council, zvas thought 
 
 • Roper. t Lord Herbert. 
 
 N2
 
 92 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 possible to be compassed. And it was for liis good services 
 in lliis exj^cditiou, tlie son-in-law proceeds to inform us, 
 that the king, when he afterwiird made Sir Tliomas chan- 
 cellor, caused the duke of Norfolk to declare publicly, how 
 much Endand was indebted to him. 
 
 On his return from Can\bray, Sir Thomas rode directly 
 to the king at the court at \\'oodstock. Here information 
 was brought him that a part of his dwelling-house at Chel- 
 sea, and all his barns, full of com, were ccjnsumed by fire, 
 and that the barns of some of his near neighbours were de- 
 stro3-ed also. The letter he wrote to his lady on this occa- 
 sion is preserved in his English works, and with it we will 
 conclude the present chapter. The former part of it is per- 
 haps addressed to her covetous disposition, while the latter 
 part affords a most worthy instance of his own benevo- 
 lence. 
 
 Sir Thomas to Lady More. 
 
 ' Mistress Alice, in my most heartywise I recommend 
 me to you. And whereas I am informed by my son Heron 
 of the loss of our barns and our neighbours' also, with all 
 the corn that was therein, albeit (saving God's pleasure) it 
 is great pity of so much good corn lost, yet since it hath 
 liked him to send us such a chance, we must and are bound- 
 en, not only to be content, but also to be glad of his visit- 
 ation. He sent us all that we have lost ; and since he hath 
 by such a chance taken it away again, his pleasure be tul-
 
 SIR T. MORE. 93 
 
 filled ! Let us never grudge thereat, but take it in good 
 worth, and heartily thank him, as well for adversity as for 
 prosperity. 
 
 ' And peradventure we have more cause to thank liim 
 for our loss than for our winning ; for his wisdom better 
 seeth what is good for us than we do ourselves. Therefore 
 I pray you be of good cheer, and take all the household 
 with you to church, and there thank God, both for that 
 he hath given us, and for that he hath taken from us, and 
 for that he hath left us, which, if it please him, he can in- 
 crease when he will ; and if it please him to leave us yet 
 less, at his pleasure be it ! 
 
 * I pray you to make some good ensearch what mj'^ poor 
 neighbours have lost. And bid them take no thought there- 
 fore ; for if I should not leave myself a spoon, there shall 
 no poor neighbour of mine bear no loss by any chance, hap- 
 pened in my house. I pray you be, with my children and 
 3'our household, merry in God : and devise somewhat 
 with your friends, what way were best to take, for provi- 
 sion to be made for corn for our household, and for seed 
 this year coming, if ye think it good that we keep the 
 ground still in our hands. And whether ye think it good 
 that we so shall do, or not, yet I think it were not best 
 suddenly thus to leave it all up, and to put away our folk 
 of our farm, till we have somewhat advised us thereon. 
 Howbeit, if we have more now than ye shall need, and 
 which can get them other masters, ye may then discharge
 
 94 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 us of tlieui. But I would not that any man were sudden- 
 ly sent away, he wot not whither. 
 
 * At my coming hither, I perceived none other, but that 
 1 should tarry still with the king's grace. But now 1 shall, 
 I think, because of this chance, get leave this next week 
 to come home and see you ; and then shall we farther de- 
 vise together upon all things, what order shall be best to 
 take. 
 
 * And thus as heartily fare you well, with all our child- 
 ren, as ye can wish ! At Woodstock, the third day of Sep- 
 tember, by the hand of 
 
 Your loving husband, 
 
 THOMAS more/
 
 SIR T. MORE. 93' 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Cardinal Wohey, . . . His advancement, and quarrel tvith the emperor 
 Charles. . , . Anecdotes of More and Wol^ey. . . . The hing\s- scruples 
 regardins; his marriage. . . . His inconsistency , . . Morels conduct in 
 the matter. . . . ff. heij's fall. . . . More made ch-incellor . . . The duke 
 of Norfolk s speech and More's on the occasion. . . . More's improve' 
 ment in the office. . . . His respect to his father, and impartiality to his 
 family. . . . Anecdotes of his chancellorship. . . . He clears the chancery 
 of causes. . . . He is offered money by the bishops Jor his writings. ... 
 Is again importuned by Henry on the dinorce. , . . He determines ta 
 resigji the seal. . . . IVIvch he at last ejffects. . . . Henry* x promise to 
 him. . . . A/ore's contempt of ivorldly grandeur. . . . His wife is more 
 concerned. . . . ./Anecdotes of her. . . . More provides situations for his 
 attendants, and calls together his family. . . . His poverty. . . . Death 
 of his father, and his f Hal ciffection. . . . His letters to Erasmus on his 
 resignation. . . . His monumental inscription. . . . His buildings and 
 charity at Chelsea. ... The remarks of Fox and others on More's 
 persecution of heterodoxy . . . State of the times. . . . More's own re- 
 futation of his calumniators. 
 
 It is now time to contemplate the lofty elevation of the 
 powerful cardinal, whose fall made the way for Sir Thomar 
 More's highest advancement. 3
 
 96 ME.MOIRS OF 
 
 Wolsey was the son of a butcher of Ipswich. lie re- 
 ceived a good education, and discovered an early capacity, 
 which obtained him a recommendation as tutor in the mar- 
 quis of Dorset's family, to wliich his assiduity soon added 
 the friendship of his patron. In time lie Avas promoted as 
 chaplain to Henry VII, and was employed by his majesty 
 in a secret negociation regarding his intended marriage with 
 Margaret of Savoy. His diligence and dexterity gained 
 him his master's good opinion, but the king's death, for a 
 time, retarded his advancement. 
 
 Fox, bishop of Winchester, having discovered that the 
 earl of Surrey had supplanted him in young Henry's favour, 
 he hoped, by introducing Wolsey, upon whom he cast his 
 eye as a rising man, to the king's familiarit}', to oppose a 
 rival to Surrey in his insinuating arts ; while Wolsey, the sly 
 churchman likewise hoped, should be content to act a part 
 in the cabinet subordinate to his promoter. But the fact 
 proved, that Wolsey soon supplanted Surrey in Henry's fa- 
 vour, and Fox in his confidence. In the young monarch's 
 parties of pleasure Wolsey took the lead, and forgetting 
 his years and his profession, he promoted all the gaiety 
 which suited Henry's inclination. His father's counsellors, 
 he represented, were indeed men of experience, but they 
 owed not their promotion to the young king's favour, and 
 they obstructed his affairs by their jealousies. A better 
 system would be, to entrust his authority to one who Avas 
 the creature of his will, could have no othei- view than to 
 liis service, and having the same taste for pleasure with him-
 
 SIR T. 3I0RE, 97 
 
 self, could acquaint him with business in the midst of gaiety. 
 Wolsey, in short, soon became the too absolute minister of 
 his sovereion. 
 
 The choice which he had made, Henry was by nature 
 proud of maintaining ; and Wolsey, while he directed the 
 public councils, pretended a blind submission to his mas- 
 ter's authority. Of his acquisitions there seemed to be no 
 end, and a bare list of his church preferments would be te- 
 dious. The pope observed his influence over Henry, and 
 deeming it politic to engage him in his interest, his hohness 
 created him a cardinal. Eight hundred servants, of Avhom 
 many were knights and gentlemen, immediately swelled his 
 train, and the churchman's ostentation obtained a kind of 
 proverbial fame. The good Warham, as we have seen, 
 chose rather to retire, than to maintain an unequal contest 
 with the cardinal. On his resignation of the office of chan- 
 cellor, the great seal was given to Wolsey ; and the retire- 
 ment of the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, and of bishop 
 Fox, consigned into the cardinal's hands every authority in 
 the kingdom. 
 
 'o" 
 
 On the recal of Campcggio by Leo X, from his fruitless 
 errand to procure a tithe from our clergy, for enabling the 
 pope to oppose the Turks, Wolsey, his partner in the com- 
 mission, Avas, by the king's desire, alone invested with the 
 legantine power, together with the right of visiting all the 
 clergy and monasteries, and even of suspending all the laws 
 of the church for a year. This new dignity not only af» 
 
 Vol. I. O
 
 f)8 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 forded tlie cardinal a new opportunity of displaying Ins 
 favourite state, but being now by the pope's commission 
 and liie king's favour invested with all power, ecclesiastical 
 as well as civil, he erected what he called the Icgantinc 
 court, a tribunal, to the authority of which, no man knew 
 the boundaries. He gave it an inquisitorial and censorial 
 power even over the laity ; and the clergy, especially the 
 monks, were obliged to purchase indemnities, by large sums 
 paid to the legate or to his judge. By virtue of his com- 
 mission, he pretended to assume the Jurisdiction of all the 
 bishop's courts, particularly that of judging of wills and 
 testaments ; and he presented to whatever benefices he 
 pleased, without regard to right of election or of patron- 
 age. 
 
 When Maximilian died, the kings of France and Spain 
 became candidates for the imperial crown, and the success 
 of Charles enabled Henry, by the power and situation of 
 his kingdom, to hold the balance between those powers, 
 which seemed to contend for the dominion of Europe. 
 Francis solicited an interview with Henry near Calais, in 
 the hope of being able to gain upon his friendship and 
 confidence. But Charles, hearing of the intended inter- 
 view, determined to take the opportunity' in his passage 
 from Spain to the Low countries, of paying Henry a still 
 higher compliment, by visiting him at Dover ; and it Avas 
 here that that politic prince instilled into the aspiring car- 
 dinal the hope of attaining the papacy. Yet Adrian VI, 
 who had been tutor to the emperor, succeeded Leo in the
 
 SIR T. MORE. 9Sr 
 
 pa]nil chair, and Charles on paying another visit to Eng- 
 land renewed to Wolsey his former promises. As Adrian's 
 age and infirmities promised a speedy vacancy, the cardinal 
 for that time dissembled his resentment ; but when Adrian 
 died and Clement VII succeeded, Wolsey became fully 
 sensible of the emperor's insincerity, and began to estrange 
 himself from the imperial court.* 
 
 More had the courage to oppose Wolsey in the council, 
 as well as in parliament. To the former meeting Sir Tho- 
 mas no doubt referreth, in the story he tells in one of his 
 letterSj-f- of the cardinal's project that England should sup- 
 port the emperor in his Avar with France. 
 
 ' Some, he writes, thought it wise, that we should sit 
 still and leave them alone. But evermore my lord used the 
 fable of the wise men ; who, because they would not be 
 washed with the rain which should make everyone a fool, 
 hid themselves in caves. But when the rain had made the 
 rest fools, and these came out of their caves and would ut- 
 ter their wisdom, the fools agreed together against them, 
 and overcame them. And so, said his grace, if we Avould 
 be so wise as to sit in peace while the fools fought, the}'' 
 would afterward make head, and all fall upon us. — This 
 fable helped the king and the realm to spend many a fair 
 penny.' 
 
 More's great-grandson informs us, that the knight alludes 
 
 • Cavendish, Hume, &c. f Eng. works. 
 
 O 2
 
 100 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 to Wolsey also in his book of comfort in tribulation^ wlicii 
 lie speaks of a great prelate in Germany, who, when he 
 had made an oration before a large assembly, woidd f)liint- 
 ly ask those who sat at table with him, hoxv they alt liked il'r' 
 and tie wlio brought forth a tnean commendation of it, tcaa 
 xure to have no thanks for his labour. 
 
 ' On a time,' adds the same writer, ' the cardinal had 
 drawn a draft of certain conditions of peace between Eng- 
 land and France, and he asked Sir Thomas Mure's counsel 
 therein, beseeching hiin earnestly that he would tell hin), if 
 there were anything therein to be misliked ; and he spoke 
 this so heartily, saith Sir Thomas, that he believed verily 
 that he was willing to hear his advice indeed. But when 
 Sir Thomas had dealt reall3' therein, and shewed wherein 
 that draft might have been amended, he suddenly rose in 
 a rage and said, by the mass thou art the veriest fool of 
 all the council ! At which Sir 'J'homas smiling, said, God 
 Ijc thanked that the king our master hath but oncjool in all 
 his council* 
 
 This incident perhaps led to the former allusion by More, 
 and will remind the reader of the story of Gil Bias and the 
 archbishop. It is certainly disagreeable to be placed in 
 the situation of Gil Bias, and connected with one who will 
 take it in dudgeon, iiyou do not smoke him with as much 
 incense, as would satisfy three or thrice three goddesses.* 
 
 • Jortin.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 101 
 
 Mr. Roper agrees with those historians, who ascribe to 
 Wolsey's spirit of revenge against the emperor, the inflam- 
 mation of Henry's scruples regarding the marriage Avith 
 Catharine, his aunt. ' And for the better achiving thereof,' 
 continues Roper, ' he requested Longland the bishop, be- 
 ing ghostly-father to the king, to put a scruple into his 
 grace's head, that it was not lawful for him to viarry his bro- 
 ther's wife. Which the king not sorry to hear of, opened 
 it first unto Sir Thumas More, whose counsel he requested 
 therein, shewing him certain places of scripture that seem- 
 ed somewiiat to serve his appetite.' 
 
 This happened previously to More's departure for Cam- 
 bray. 
 
 Now Henry's case, if we beheve himseF, Avas complete-- 
 ly a case of conscience ; and he was greatly disquieted on 
 account of his incestuous intercourse with his brother's wi- 
 dow. But is his majesty's word in his own cause to be al- 
 Avay relied upon? and if there were dithculties in such a 
 marriage which might occasion scruples, how came they 
 not to have arisen earlier in the course of eighteen years ? 
 If, again, Henry was convinced that his marriage was con- 
 trary to God's holy law, was it not strange that one pope 
 could grant a dispensation for it, and then another pope 
 declare it void ? Did not his pleasure and his cause require 
 a limit to the papal power, while his principles and his ap- 
 plication to the pope declared that power unlimited ? and 
 will it be too severe to conclude, that when Henry found he
 
 102 -AIEMOIIIS OF 
 
 coiiUl nut cany his point and preserve liis principles, lie dc- 
 terniined that his passions should not at any rate prove the 
 ivcak part to give way ; and that Avhat he attempted at 
 first from resentment, in forsaking the holy see, he might 
 in time brino; himself to believe was indeed the cause of 
 God and of rclis;ion? 
 
 The fact is, that Catharine was six years older than 
 Henry, and the purity of her character was a poor recom- 
 pence in his estimation for the loss of her beauty. Her 
 children, save one daughter, all died in early infancy, and 
 the king was very desirous of having male issue. Lastly, 
 the beauty of Ann Boleyn, maid of honour to the queen» 
 had probably the chief influence on this occasion ; and her 
 virtue left llcnr}' no hope of gratifying his passion, except 
 by raising her to the throne. No wonder then that a di- 
 vorce from Catharine was absolutely necessary. 
 
 More perused the passages of scripture pointed-out by 
 the king, but excused himself from giving an opinion, be- 
 cause he had 7Wt professed dhhiifi/. Henry, however, urged 
 him so strongly, that More besought the time recjuisite for 
 a deliberation of such importance ; and the king told him 
 that Tonstall and Clark, bishops of Durham and Bath, 
 with others of his privy council, should confer with him on 
 the subject.* 
 
 ' Now would to our Lord son Roper, exclaimed Sir Tho- 
 
 • Roper.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 103- 
 
 mas one day at Chelsea water-side, upon condition that 
 three things were well established in Christendom, I were 
 put in a sack and here presently cast into the Thames.' 
 Mr. Roper was naturally curious to know what these three 
 things were, and the knight continued — ' in faith son they 
 be these. The first is, that whereas the most part of chris- 
 tian princes be at mortal wars, they were all at universal 
 peace. The second, that whereas the church of Christ is 
 at this present sore afflicted with many errors and heresies, 
 it were settled in perfect uniformity of religion. The third, 
 that whereas the matter of the kinsj's marriao;e is now come 
 in question, it were, to the glory of God and quietness of 
 all parties, brought to a good conclusion.' 
 
 When Sir Thomas came next to court he said to the kino-, 
 ' to be plain with your grace, neither ni}- lord of Durham, 
 nor my lord of Bath, though I know them both to be wise,, 
 virtuous, and learned prelates, nor myself with the rest of 
 your council, being all 3'our grace's own servants, for your 
 manifold benefits, being daily bestowed on us, so much 
 bounden unto you, be in my mind meet counsellors for 
 your grace herein. But if your grace mean to understand 
 the truth, such counsellors may you have devised, as neither 
 for respect of their own worldly commodity, nor for fear of 
 your princely authority, will be inclined to deceive you.' 
 AVhen he named these counsellors, they proved to be Je- 
 rome, Austin, &c., and he produced the authorities which 
 he had collected out of them. ' M'hich, although the king,', 
 continues Mr. Roper, ' as disagreeable to his desire, did not
 
 104 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 very well like-of, yet were they by Sir Thomas More, who 
 in all his coinmunication with the kinc; in that matter had 
 alway most discreetly behaved himself, so wisely tempered, 
 that he both presently took thcra in good part, and often- 
 time had thereof conference with him again/ 
 
 After More's return from Cambray, Henry again opened 
 with him the question of his divorce ; and declared to him, 
 that although at his departure he despaired of success, yet 
 since that time he had conceived great hopes of being able 
 to accomplish it. For, though his marriage, being origin- 
 ally against the positive laws of the church and the writ- 
 ten law of God, was rectified by the dispensation from 
 Rome, yet was there another thing found out of late, where- 
 by it appeared to be so directly against the law of nature 
 that the church could in nowise dispense it. Henry then 
 referred liim to Dr. Stokesly, newly created bishop of Lon- 
 don, and in that case chief i/ credited, says Air. Roper. 
 
 y But it was IMorc's great characteristic that no hope of 
 wain or fear of disgrace could induce him to swerve from 
 the dictates of his conscience ; and, notwithstanding his 
 conference with the bishop, he saw no reason to change his 
 former opinion. Stokesly, however, reported favourably of 
 More to the king, saying, the knight was truly desirous of 
 seeing something in the case in his majesty's favour. The 
 i'dct is, Wolsey had offended Stokesly, and the bishop wish- 
 ed to shew himself more solicitous than the cardinal as to 
 the king's favourite object.* 
 
 • Roper.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 105 
 
 CleiDent, slill smarting from the sack of Rome, was at 
 this time anxious for his personal safety, and well knew that 
 the emperor could alone restore the Medici to their domi- 
 nion in Florence. The cause of Charles was naturally that 
 of queen Catharine, and a powerful one with the pope 
 compared to that of Henry. No wonder then that the 
 commission, which on Henry's application he granted to 
 Wolsey and Campeggio, to try the matter here, proved in- 
 conclusive, and that the cause was soon evoked to Rome. 
 
 Wolsey well knew that this measure was the certain fore- 
 runner of his fall, for he knew that Henry expected his mi- 
 nisters to be answerable for the success of their undertak- 
 ings. The motion of the cardinal's ruin became now as ac- 
 celerated, as had before been that of his advancement; and 
 in fine, the great seal was demanded from him and given 
 by the king to Sir Thomas More. 
 
 Thus the fall of Wolsey made way for Sir Thomas More 
 to become chancellor of England, and it hath been sup- 
 posed by some, in which number is Mr. Roper, that one 
 reason with Henry for giving him the seal, was to render 
 him more favourable to the cause the kins had so much at 
 heart. Wolsey himself is reported to have said, that he 
 thought no man in England worthier of the appointment 
 than More.* 
 
 The knight Avas attended through Westminster-hall to his 
 
 • Morct 
 
 Vol. I. P
 
 106 ■MKMOIRS OF 
 
 seat in the cliancciT by tlic dukes of Norlblk and .Sullblk. 
 'I'lic spt'cvli made bv his grace of Noifolk on the occasion, 
 and the subsequent one by Sir 'J'honias, are here translated 
 IVom Stapleton. 
 
 TItc Duke of Noi'fo/h^s Speech. 
 
 ' it hatli [)leased liis majesty (and may it prove happy 
 tor the whole realm of England !) to raise to the high dig- 
 nity of chancellor, Sir Thonias More, a man suHiciently 
 known to himself and to his kingdom. His majest}' hath 
 done this, from no otlicr motive or respect whatever, than 
 because he perceived in this man all the endowments which 
 his people could desire or himself could wish, for the due 
 discharge of the high office. His understanding, liis inte- 
 grit}', tiie innocence of his life, and his happy genius, have 
 not only been celebrated among his countrymen from his 
 early youth, but known for many years past to the king 
 himself also. Of this his majesty hath had very ample ex- 
 perience in many and great concerns at home and abroad, 
 in various offices which he hath filled, in foreign embassies 
 of great importance, and in his daily counsels in affairs of 
 state. He hath thought his wisdom in deliberation, his 
 truth in uttering his real sentiments, and his elo(juence in 
 adorning what he uttered, surpassed by none. I'rom such 
 a man every thing is to be expected ; and since his majesty 
 ■vvisheth his people to be governed with equity and justice, 
 integrity and wisdom, he hath appointed him chancellor ; 
 that his people may enjoy peace and justice, and the king- 
 dom honour and fame.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 107 
 
 ' It may seem a novelty that this dignity is conferred 
 upon a layman, a married man, and one of no high birtli, 
 Avhen heretofore it hath been given to highest prelates and 
 nobility : But what any one may think deficient in these 
 respects, is abundantly compensated by the admirable vir- 
 tues of this man, and his incomparable gifts of genius and 
 of nature. The king liath therefore regarded, not how great, 
 but what a man he is ; not his titles, but his merits ; not 
 his station, but his ability. Lastly, his majesty would shew 
 by his choice of Sir Thomas More, that excellent men are 
 not wanting among his gentry and the laity, to fill the of- 
 fices occupied by ecclesiastics and nobles ; which being a 
 blessing more rarely afforded by the Deity, his majesty 
 esteemeth it the greater and more dear to his people. Re- 
 ceive then More for your chancellor under these happy au- 
 spices, and expect every prosperity from the choice which 
 his majesty hath made.' 
 
 Sir Thomas Mores Speech. 
 
 ' Most noble duke, and ye my honourable lords and gen- 
 tlemen. Although I know that what his majesty hath been 
 pleased should be said of me on this occasion, and which 
 your grace hath amplified in most elegant terms, is as un- 
 worthy of me, as I wish it were true, and as this otKce par- 
 ticularly requires ; and although your speech hath agitated 
 me more than I can well express ; yet this incomparable 
 favour of his majesty cannot but be most grattlul to mc, 
 that he thinks so favourably of me, and commends my me- 
 
 P 2
 
 J08 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 (liocrity to you so lionourably. ^Aiid I cannol hut return 
 yoiu" grace my most hearty thanks, who have thus auipli- 
 fied tlie commands of his majesty in an elegant and elo(|uent 
 oration. For the matchless favour alone of his majesty to- 
 Mixrd me, his generosity and the incredible propension of 
 his royal mind to me, by which my small merits have now 
 for many years been distinguished, and no desert of mine, 
 cause this new honour and these commendations. For who 
 aiu 1, or what the house of my father, that his majesty 
 should accumulate so many and so great honours upon me? 
 Inferior to the least of his favours, of this station and ho- 
 nour I am certainly unworthy, and hardly equal to the dis- 
 eliaro-e of its duties. 
 
 ' Unwillingly I came, as his majesty hath often allowed, 
 to court and to his service ; but this dignity is most of all 
 against my will. Yet such is the goodness, such the be- 
 nignity of his majesty, that he magnifieth the smallest du- 
 ties of his subjects ; and richly remunerates his servants, 
 though they have little merit, if they be but desirous of 
 pleasing him. In this number I have ever wished to be, 
 though I could not reckon myself among the meritorious. 
 
 * This being the case, you will all easily perceive with 
 me, how great a burden is imposed upon me, that my di- 
 ligence and duty may correspond with the king's great fa- 
 vour, and that I may answer his high expectation of me. 
 These praises were therefore the less grateful to me, the 
 more I knew the difficulty of my duty, and how few aids I
 
 SIR T. MORE. 109 
 
 had to make myself appear not unwortiiy ol' thcin. Tlic 
 burden is greater than my shoulders will bear, the honour 
 greater than my merits ; it is a care, not a glory ; a soli- 
 citude, not a dignity. I must bear it Avith my best exer- 
 tions, and fulfil the duty as dexterously as 1 can. But a 
 great stimulus to my success will be, the strong desire which 
 hath through life been highest in my mind, and w'hich I ac- 
 knowledge now chietiy to actuate me, of satisfying his ma- 
 jesty's high claims upon me. xVnd I rely upon this beino- 
 more easy to me, the more I find all your good wills to 
 correspond with the king's favour. For my desire of doino- 
 right, united with your favourable acceptance, will certainly 
 establish the success of my endeavours, and make them, 
 though small, seem great and praise- worthy. What we set- 
 about cheerfully, we achieve happily ; and Avhat is kindly 
 received appears best executed. As therefore ye hope the 
 best possible of me, so, though I cannot promise ye the 
 best possible, yet promise 1 the best I can perform. 
 
 * But when I look upon this seat, when I recollect who 
 and how gi'cat persons have filled it before me, when I con- 
 template who sat in it last, a man of what singular wisdom, 
 of what skill in business, of what splendid and lono-.pros- 
 perous fortune, with a high and inglorious fall at last, I see 
 the difficulty of my situation before me, and mv new ho- 
 nour is rendered less grateful and pleasant to me, than it 
 may seem to many. For it is difficult to succeed with ap- 
 probation to one of such genius, wisdom, authority, and 
 splendour, or to trace his footsteps with an equal pace. It
 
 110 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 s like burning a candle after tlie setting sun. And the un- 
 expected and sudtlen lall of so great a man is a terrible ad- 
 monition to me, not to let my new honour please me too 
 much, or its splendour dazzle my eyes. 
 
 ' I therefore ascend this seat, as one which is full of la- 
 bour and hazard, while it is empty of true and solid honour. 
 The higher it is, the greater the precipice I must guard 
 against, as not only the nature of the thing, but the recent 
 example sufficiently warn me. And unless, under these cir- 
 cumstances, the incredible propension of his majesty toward 
 me, and the good will of you all, which I gather from your 
 agreeable countenances, recreated and refreshed me, I might 
 stumble at this very entrance, and perhaps faint ; this seat 
 woidd not seem pleasantcr to me, than did the sword which 
 hung by a horse-hair over the head of Damocles while he 
 occupied the state-chair of Dionysius in the midst of ho- 
 nours and delicacies. This then Avill I ever keep in mind, 
 this have alway before my eyes, that this seat will in such 
 degree be honourable to me, full of dignity and splendour, 
 a new and renowned preferment, as I continue with all care 
 and vigilance to administer my high office with fidelity and 
 wisdom, and as I keep in mind that my enjoyment of it 
 may be but short and precarious. The one, ni}- diligence 
 ought to accomplish ; the other, the example of ni}^ prede- 
 cessor teach me. 
 
 ' This being the case, you will all the more easily ap- 
 preciate what pleasure this high office, this effusion of the
 
 .SIR T. MORE. Ill 
 
 noble duke, or this matchless favour of his majesi}', afford 
 me/ 
 
 ' And as they had before charged him,' adds Mr. Roper, 
 ' on the king's behalf, uprightly to administer inditierent 
 justice to the people, without corruption or affection ; so 
 did he likewise charge them again, that if they saw him at 
 any time in anything to digress from any part of his duty 
 in that honourable office, even as they Avould discharge 
 their own duty and fidelity to God and the king, so should 
 they not fail to disclose it to his grace, who otherwise might 
 have just occasion to lay his fault wholly to their charge/ 
 
 The reader will recollect, that this speech was delivered 
 extempore, nearly three hundred years ago, upon that dif- 
 ficult subject, a man's self. The speaker seems sufficiently 
 to evince his acquaintance with his sovereign's character, 
 and that he foresaw it would not suit his own conscience 
 and inclination long to enjoy his dignity. 
 
 Having now traced Sir Thomas More to the summit of 
 his profession, and to the highest dignit\' which, as a lay- 
 man, he could possess in this country, we are next to view 
 the integrity of his administration in it, and his incorruptible 
 mind in the midst of worldly greatness. 
 
 Speedily was a remarkable alteration to be perceived in i53o. 
 the discharge of the office. The pride of Wolsey rendered
 
 112 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 bim inaccessible to persons of conmion rank, and bribery 
 to his attendants was rcqnisitc for reaching his presence 
 only. ]Uit the new chancellor, the poorer and meaner a 
 suiter was, the more aftably would he address him, the more 
 attentively hear his business, and the more speedily dis- 
 jiatch it.* He used commonly every afternoon (says Mr. 
 Roper) to sit in his open hall, to the intent that if any per- 
 son had any suit unto iiim, they might the more boldly 
 come to his presence and open their complaints before him. 
 Ilis manner was also, to read every bill himself before he 
 would award any subpoena ; which being matter worthy of 
 subpoena, he would set his hand to it ; if otherwise, he can- 
 celled it. 
 
 His father, Sir John More, now nearly ninety years of 
 age, was still a judge of the king's-bench wlien More be- 
 came chancellor. ^Vhenever he passed through A\'estmin- 
 ster-hall to his place in the chancery by the court of king's- 
 1)ench (says Mr. Roper) if his father had seated liimself ere 
 he came, he would go into the same court, and there re- 
 verently kneeling down in the sight of them all, duly ask 
 his father's blessing. And if it fortuned that his father and 
 he, at readings in Lincoln's-inn, met together, as they 
 sometimes did, notwithstanding his high office he would 
 offer in argument the pre-eminence to his father ; though 
 he, for his office sake, would refuse to take it. 
 
 No one who understands More's character, will be sur- 
 
 • More.
 
 SIRT. MORE. 113 
 
 prized at finding, that tiie claims of friendship or relation- 
 ship had not the smallest influence over him in the impar- 
 tial administration of justice. 
 
 One of his sons-in-law said to him one day, while he was 
 chancellor, that in "Wolsey's time not only they of his privy- 
 chamber, but his very door-keeper, made great profits ; 
 whereas Sir Thomas Avas so easy of access to every degree 
 of persons, that if, in his attendance upon him, he took 
 any fee, he should injure the parties, by making them pay 
 for what they could obtain for themselves, and which, 
 though commendable in Sir Thomas, was not profitable to 
 him. * You say well son/ replied the knight, ' I do not 
 mislike that 3'^ou are of conscience so scrupulous. But 
 many other wa3's be there, son, that I may both do you 
 good and pleasure your friend also. For sometimes may I 
 by my word stand your friend in stead ; and sometimes 
 may I by my letter help him ; or if he have a cause de- 
 pending before me, at your request I may hear him before 
 another ; or if his cause be not all the best, yet may I move 
 the parties to fall to some end or arbitrament. Howbcit, 
 this one thing, son, I assure thee on ray faith, that if the 
 parties will at my hands call for justice, then were it my 
 father stood on one side and the devil on the other, his cause 
 being good, the devil should have right.' 
 
 Another of his sons-in-law, Mr. Heron, had a cause pend- 
 ing in chancery, and presumed so much upon the favour 
 of Sir Thomas, that he would not be persuaded to agree 
 
 Vol. I. Q
 
 ni MEMOIRS OF 
 
 to any compromise. The result was, that the chancellor, 
 ou licaring the cause, made a decision directly against 
 
 His talent for drollery could not forsake More, even in 
 his liighest elevation. An attorney of the name of Tul), 
 it is said, once brought him a cause for subscription, which 
 the knight, finding the matter frivolous, signed A Tale of a 
 Tub ; and Tub bore away the cause in triumph, without 
 at that time discovering the joke.f- 
 
 While he was sitting in his hall one day, a beggar came 
 to him to complain, that Lad}' More detained a little dog 
 which belonged to her. The chancellor sent for his lady^ 
 and ordered her to brins; the dog with her. He took it into 
 his hands, and placing Lady More at the upper end of the 
 hall, desired the beggar to stand at the lower end. I sit 
 here, he said, to do every one justice ; and he desired each 
 of them to call the dog-. The little favourite immediately 
 forsook his new mistress and ran to the beggar ; upon which 
 Lady More was compelled to indulge her partiality by pur- 
 chasing the animal. ^ 
 
 The duke of Norfolk came to dine with Sir Thomas one 
 day at Chelsea while he was chancellor, and found him at 
 church singing in the quire with a surplice on. ' God's body, 
 God's body, my lord chancellor, said his grace as they 
 went home, what a parish clerk, a parish clerk ? — you dis- 
 
 • Roper. t More. % Ibid.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 115 
 
 lionour the king and his office.' ' Nay/ rephed Sir Tho- 
 mas, smiUng, ' your grace may not think that the king, 
 your master and mine, will with me for serving God, his 
 master, be offended, or thereby account his office disho- 
 noured.' * 
 
 Few injunctions as he granted while he was chancellor 
 to stop proceedings at common law, he had yet gone too 
 far in this particular to obtain the approbation of all the 
 judges ; whereof he received information from Mr. Roper. 
 
 Sir Thomas hereupon caused the chief of the six clerks 
 to make a docket containing the whole number and causes 
 of all such injunctions as had already passed in his time, 
 or were then pending before him, and invited all the judges 
 to dine with him in the council-chamber at Westminster. 
 After dinner, he hinted at the complaints he had heard, 
 and then displayed so clearly the motives of his conduct, 
 that they were compelled to confess tliey would have acted 
 similarly under similar circumstances. He then observed 
 that if the justices of every court (unto whom the reform- 
 ing the rigour of the law appertained) would, in their own 
 discretion, as he thought they were in conscience bound, 
 reform that rigour themselves, he would grant no more in- 
 junctions. Mhich, when they refused, forasmuch as your- 
 selves, my lords, he said, drive me to that necessiiij of award- 
 ing-out injunctions to relieve the people^s injury, you cannot 
 hereafter any more justly blame me. I perceive, son, he add- 
 
 • Roper. 
 
 Q2
 
 IIG MEMOIRS OF 
 
 cd to Mr. Roper, k'^i/ ihcy like not so to do. For they see 
 that they may, by the verdict of the jury, cast-off all quar- 
 rels from themselves on those; which they do account their 
 chief defence. And therefore am I compelled to abide the 
 adventure of all such reports.* 
 
 So indefatigable was More in his application to business, 
 and so expert in the dispatch of it, that it is said, during 
 his presidency in the chancery, having one day ended a 
 cause, and calling for the next which was to be heard, he 
 received for answer that the7'e was not another cause depend- 
 ing. -f This fact he ordered to be entered upon record, and 
 it gave rise, probably at a later day, to the following epi- 
 
 gram. 
 
 When More sometime had chanc'Uor been 
 
 No more suits did remain ; 
 The same shall never more be seen 
 
 Till Alore be there again. 
 
 More, while he was chancellor, cannot be supposed to 
 have had much leisure for religious controversy. Yet his 
 abilities were in request to oppose the reformers, and his 
 English works abundantly prove what his son-in-law asserts, 
 that he set-forth divers profitable works in defence of the 
 trtie christian religion against heresies secretly sown-abroad 
 in the realm. 
 
 The bishops, considering that notwithstanding the favour 
 
 Roper. t More. 
 
 »
 
 SIR T. MORE. 117 
 
 ©f the king, he was not a rich man, agreed at a convoca- 
 tion, with others of the clerg}-^, to recompence him with a 
 sum of money (supposed to have been four or five thou- 
 sand pounds), to be raised among them. The bishops of 
 Batli, Durham, and Exeter, waited upon him in conse- 
 quence, and acknowledging the obhgation of their body to 
 his labours, presented him the money in the name of the 
 convocation. More refused the present, and said with his 
 thanks, that it was no small comfort to him, that men so 
 wise and learned so well accepted his simple doings, for 
 which he never intended to receive reward but at the hands 
 of God, to whom their thanks were due. 
 
 When no importunity would prevail with him, the bishops 
 besought More that they might present the money to his 
 wife and children. ' Not so my lords,' said the knight. 
 * I had rather see it cast in the Thames than that either I 
 or any of mine should have thereof the worth of a penny. 
 For although your oft'er, my lords, be indeed very friendly 
 and honourable, yet set I so little by my profit and so much 
 by my pleasure, that I would not in good faith have lost 
 the watching of so many nights for much more than 3'our 
 liberal offer. And yet wish would I, for all that, upon con- 
 dition that all heresies were suppressed, that all my books 
 were burnt and my labour lost.'* 
 
 The reformers circulated a report from this circumstance, 
 that More was bribed by the clergy, the greater part ot- 
 
 • Roper.
 
 il8 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 whom he certainly far surpassed in knowledge, to wrile 
 against tlieni.* 
 
 In bis writings, Sir Thomas hath the following jiassage 
 on this subject. ' I will not say nay, but that some good 
 and honourable men of them (the clergy) would, in reward 
 of my good will and luy labour against these heretics, have 
 given me much more than ever I did or could deseri-e. 
 But I dare take God and them also to record, that all they 
 could never fee me with one penny thereof; but, as I plain- 
 ly told them, I would rather have cast their money into 
 the Thames than take it. Tor albeit they were, as indeed 
 there were, both good men and honourable, yet look I for 
 my thank of God that is their better, and for whose sake 
 
 I take the labour and not for theirs. 1 am not yet fully 
 
 so virtueless, but that of mine own natural disposition, with- 
 out any special peculiar help of grace thereto, I am both 
 over-proud and over-slothful also, to be hired /or moiici/, to 
 take half the labour and business in writing, that 1 have 
 taken in this gear (matter) since 1 began.' -f- 
 
 Soon after his entry upon his office of chancellor, Henry 
 again importuned More upon the subject of the divorce. 
 The knight, saith Mr. Roper, fell on his knees and be- 
 sought his majesty to remain the gracious sovereign he had 
 ever found him. Nothing had been so grievous to him as 
 his inability to serve his majesty in that matter with a safe 
 conscience, having ever borne in mind his majesty's words 
 
 • More. •)- Eng. worki, p. ^6/,
 
 SIR T. MORC. 119 
 
 on his entry into his service, the most virtuous lesson which 
 prince ever taught his servant, first to look unto God, and 
 after God unto him. 
 
 Henry answered, continues Roper, tliat if j\Iore could 
 not conscientiously serve him in that matter, he was con- 
 tent to accept the knight's services in other ways, and to 
 take the advice of" others of his council whose consciences 
 did not revolt at it ; that he would continue his favour to- 
 ward the knight, and never more molest his conscience with 
 that matter. But this langiiage proceeded from Henry's 
 heart as it alway should have been, and not, as we shall find,, 
 fiom what it alway was. 
 
 Dr. Cranmer, fellow of Jesus-college, Cambridge, had 
 remarked by accident in the company of Gardiner, secre- 
 tary of state, and Fox, the king's almoner, that the readi- 
 est way, either to quiet Henry's conscience or to extort the 
 pope's consent to his divorce, would be to consult all the 
 universities of Europe on the question, whose decree the 
 pope must find it very difficult to resist ; and Henrj-, de- 
 lighted at the idea, swore Cranmer had got the right sow by 
 the ear, and immediately took him into his favour. Several 
 universities gave their verdict according; to the king's wish 
 without hesitation, and Oxford and Cambridge in time 
 complied also. Clement, however, lying still under the 
 influence of thu emperor, persevered in summoning Henry, 
 either in person or by proxy, to appear at Rome. But 
 Henry regarded the citation as an insult ; and the earl of
 
 120 JfEMOIRS OF 
 
 Wiltshire, father of Ann Boleyn, wlio bore to the pope his 
 mairsty's reasons for not aj)pcaring, gave his hohncss the 
 aHiont of refusing the customary salute to his profl'ered 
 toe. 
 
 In a word, ^iore plainly perceived the king's determina- 
 tion to marry Ann Boleyn at all events, and that all his 
 measures and those of his parliament pointed to a breach 
 with the church of Rome, and to an alteration of religion. 
 His office occasioned him to be sent by the king, in com- 
 pany with certain nobles and bishops, from the lords to the 
 commons, to inform them the opinions of the universities ; 
 and he was compelled to recite a tale, which certainly af- 
 forded him little satisfaction in the lelhng. But Alore's 
 contempt of worldly greatness was too strong to allow him 
 to hold the highest of stations subject to the violation of his 
 conscience, and it was certainly not improbable, as matters 
 now stood, that he might Irccjuently undergo similar trials. 
 Thoutrh he mio-ht concur with those who would abbreviate 
 the illegal jurisdiction of the pope in this country, he saw 
 now by the king's designs that a total rupture would Ibllow; 
 and he was not inclined to go to that length which the court 
 intended against the catholic cause, not to mention the ob- 
 jections he appeared to have to the di\orce. 
 
 We shall not wonder then, that More soon applied to his 
 particular friend, the duke of Norlolk, M' intercede with 
 Henry, that he might be permitted to resign tiic sial. A 
 complaint in his breast arising trom too streuuous an appU-
 
 SIR T. MORE. ISI 
 
 cation to business, was the reason assigned by the knight 
 to the duke, as well as in his letters to his friends, for this 
 resignation ; and perhaps those only who are unacquainted 
 with the character of Henry, will blame More for so much 
 dissimulation on the occasion. 
 
 But Norfolk knew too well the value of More to the 
 king in the station which he filled, to make such a proposal 
 to his majesty without much importunity fi-om the knight; 
 and Henry knew his worth too well, to listen to it without 
 repeated solicitation. The king's consent was, however, at 
 last obtained, and More waited upon his majesty by ap- 
 pointment, to deliver-up the seal. 1532. 
 
 ' Which,' continues Mr. Roper, ' as his grace, with 
 thanks and praise for his worthy service in that office, at 
 his hands courteously received, so it pleased his highness 
 farther to say unto him, that for the service which he be- 
 fore had done him, in any suit which he should afterward 
 have unto him which should either concern his honour (for 
 that word it pleased his highness to use unto him), or which 
 should appertain unto his profit, he should find his highness 
 a good and gracious lord unto him.* 
 
 More's great-grandson adds, perhaps somewhat /<?e////o7?/, 
 * how true these words proved, let others be judges, when 
 the king not only bestowed not upon him the value of one 
 penny, but took from him and his posterity all that ever he 
 
 Vol. I. R
 
 122 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 had, either given by himself, or left him by his father, or 
 purchased by himself 
 
 It hath been justly remarked of More, that he descend- 
 ed from his high station with more joy and alacrity than 
 he had ascended to it. He sported with the varieties of 
 his fortune, and neither the pride of high station, nor the 
 melancholy of retreat could disturb his serenity. When 
 his Inends discovered soitow on his descent from grandeur, 
 he laughed at their distress, and made them ashamed of 
 losing a moment's chearfulness from such trivial misfor- 
 tunes.* 
 
 His second wife appears from the following anecdote to 
 have been less of a philosopher than himself on this occa- 
 sion. 
 
 During his chancellorship, one of INIore's attendants had 
 been in the habit, after the church-service was over, of go- 
 ing to his lady's pew to inform her when the chancellor was 
 gone. The first holiday after the resignation of his office. 
 Sir Tliomas came to the pew himself, and, making a low 
 bow, said, madam, ini/ lord is gone. His lady at first ima- 
 gined this to be one of his jests, and took little notice of 
 it ; but when he informed her seriously that he had resign- 
 ed the seal, she was in a passion. The facetious knight 
 called his daughters, and asked if they could espy no fault 
 in their mother's appearance ? Being answered in the ne- 
 
 * Hume.
 
 SIR T. MORE. la 
 
 gative, he replied, do ye not perceive that her nose stand- 
 eth somewhat awry ? * 
 
 The good lady is reported to have exclaimed with her 
 usual worldly feeling on this occasion, Tilli vally, what will 
 you do Mr. More ? will yoit sit and make gosli?igs in the ash- 
 es ? it is better to rule than to be ruled, f. 
 
 More's first care after the resignation of his office, was, 
 to provide situations for his late attendants. He used all 
 his influence to place these among the nobility and bishops ; 
 and next called together his children, whom hitherto he 
 had maintained with their families in his own house, in the 
 manner of an ancient patriarch. Declaring to them that 
 he could not now, as he had done formerly, and still glad- 
 ly would have done, bear all their expences himself, he 
 asked their advice, what they should do that they might 
 continue to live together, which he much desired .'* 
 
 * AVhen he saw us silent,' continues Mr. Roper, and in 
 that case not read}' to shew our opinions unto him, ' then 
 will 1,' said he, ' shew my poor mind to ye. I have been 
 brought-up,' quoth he, ' at Oxford, at an inn of the chan- 
 cery, at Lincoln's-inn, and also in the king's court, and so 
 from the least degree to the highest ; and yet have I in 
 j'early revenues at this present left me a little above a hun- 
 dred pounds by the year : so that now must we hereafter 
 if we like to live together, be contented to become contri- 
 
 • Roper. f More. 
 
 R 2
 
 124 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 butors together. But by my counsel, it shall not be best 
 for us to fall to the lowest fare first. We will not therefore 
 descend to Oxford fare, nor to the fare of New-inn ; but 
 we will begin with Lincoln's-inn diet, where many right 
 worshipfuls and of good years do live full well together : 
 AVhich if we find not ourselves able to maintain the first 
 year, then will we the next year go one step down to New- 
 inn fare, wherewith many an honest man is well-contented. 
 J f that exceed our ability too, then we will the next year 
 after descend to Oxibrd fare, where many grave, learned, 
 and ancient fathers be continually conversant : Which if 
 our power stretch not to maintain neither, then ma}' Ave yet 
 Avith bags and wallets go a begging together, and hoping 
 that for pity some good folks Avill give us their charity, at 
 every man's door to sing salve regiiia, and so still keep com- 
 pany and be merry together.' 
 
 ' And whereas,' adds Mr. Roper, ' you have heard be- 
 fore, he "was by the king, from a very worshipful living, 
 taken into his service, with whom, in all the great and 
 weighty causes that concerned his highness or the realm, 
 he consumed and spent, with painful cares, travails and 
 troubles, as well beyond the seas as within the realm, in 
 effect the whole substance of his life ; yet, with all tha 
 gain he got thereby (being never wasteful spender thereof) 
 he was not able, after the resignation of his office of the 
 lord chancellor, for the maintenance of himself and such 
 as necessarily belonged unto him, sufficiently to find meat, 
 drink, fuel, and apparel, and such other necessary charges.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 126 
 
 All the land that ever he purchased (which also he pur- 
 chased before he was lord chancellor) was not, I am well 
 assured, above the value of twenty marks by the year. 
 And after his debts paid, he had not I know (his chain ex- 
 cepted) in gold and silver left him, the worth of one hun- 
 dred pounds/ 
 
 When More's house was afterward searched upon his 
 couniiitment to the Tower, because it was thought that he 
 was not really so poor as he appeared to be, he told his 
 daughter Margaret that this would prove but a sport to 
 those who knew the truth of his poverty, unless indeed they 
 should Jind his wife^s gay girdle and her golden heads^' 
 
 It was about this time that More's father, Sir John INlore, 
 died, in extreme old age ; having lived to see the summit 
 of his son's prosperity, and departing in time not to wit- 
 ness his severe end. Sir Thomas is said to have displayed 
 the strong-est filial affection on this occasion ; and the old 
 man breathed his last, comforted by the prayers and em- 
 braces of his dear son.-j^ 
 
 Little, if any, increase of fortune accrued to More by 
 his father's death. Sir John's last wife, who outlived Sir 
 Thomas about ten years, enjoyed her husband's chief house 
 and lands at Gubbins in Hertfordshire. :j: And in More's 
 Apology, written about this time, he asserts, as for all the 
 lands and fees that I have in all England, beside such lands 
 
 * More. t Ibid, and Roper. % More.
 
 126 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 and fees as I have of the gift of the king's most noble grace, 
 is not at this day, nor shall be zrhilc my mother-in-law liveth 
 (whose life and good health I pray God long keep and con- 
 tin uv) worth yearly to my Ining, the stim of full jij't y pounds* 
 Such was More's charitj', and his contempt of wealth ! 
 
 In his Latin works are preserved two letters which More 
 wrote to Erasmus soon after the rcsisrnation of his office, 
 lliey contain some interesting passages which are here trans- 
 lated. 
 
 ' The thing which I have wished for from a boj, dear 
 Desiderius, which I rejoice in your having ever enjoyed, 
 and myself occasionally, — namely, that being free from 
 public business, I might have some time to devote to God 
 and myself, — that, by the grace of a great and good God, 
 and by the favour of an indulgent prince, I have at last 
 obtained. 
 
 * I have not, liowever, obtained it as I wished. For I 
 wished to reach that last stage of my life in a state, Avhicli, 
 though suitable to my age, might yet enable me to enjoy 
 my remaining years healthy and unbroken, free from dis- 
 ease and pain. But it remaineth in the hand of God, 
 whether this wish, perhaps unreasonable, shall be accom- 
 plished. Meantime a disorder of 1 know not what nature 
 hath attacked my breast, by which I sutFer less in present 
 pain than in fear of the consequence. For when it had 
 
 * Eng. Tforks, p. 867-
 
 SIR T. MORE. 127 
 
 plagued me without abatement some months, the physi- 
 cians whom I consulted gave their opinion, that the long 
 continuance of it was dangerous, and the speedy cure im- 
 possible ; but that it must be cured by the gradual altera- 
 tive effects of time, proper diet and medicine. Neither 
 could they fix the period of my recovery, or ensure me a 
 complete cure at last. 
 
 * Considering this, I saw that I must either lay down 
 my office, or discharge my duty in it incompletely. And 
 since I could not discharge that duty without the hazard 
 of my life, and by so doing should lose both life and office, 
 I determined to lose one of them rather than both. Where- 
 fore, that I might consult the public good as well as my 
 own welfare, I entreated of the kindness of my good and 
 great prince, that from the high office with which (as you 
 know) he honoured me by his incredible favour, far above 
 my pretensions, above my hopes, above my wishes, he 
 should now release me, sinking as I was under the weight 
 of it. 
 
 ' I therefore pray heaven, that God, who alone is able, 
 may repay these favours of his majesty toward me ; that 
 the remaining time which he allottcth me may not be spent 
 in inglorious and slothful repose, but that he may give me 
 inclination and strength of body also, to employ it profit- 
 ably. For, under bad health, I am not equal to anything; 
 nor, my good friend, are we all like Erasmus, that that 
 might be expected from us which God in his kindness seems
 
 128 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 to have granted exclusively to you. For who but yourself 
 could dare to promise Avhat you accomplish? — you, who 
 arc not hindered by the inconvenicncies of growing age, 
 and, though you be constantly atHicted with such maladies 
 as might sicken and overcome youth and strength, yet 
 cease you not yearly to instruct mankind by your excellent 
 writings, as if age and ill health had robljcd you of no- 
 thin <i'. 
 
 ' Certain praters had begun to give it out here, that 
 though 1 dissembled lu}' sentiments, I gave-up my otlice 
 unwilhngly ; but, having set-about my monument, I have 
 not failed to represent the matter as it really was, in my 
 epitaph, that, if anybody could, I n)ight myself confute 
 such insinuations. In appreciating this act, though they 
 could not tax me with falsehood, they acquitted me not of 
 some degree of ai'rogance. But I preferred this, to letting 
 the other gain credit ; certainly not on my own account, 
 Avho think very little of what men say wliile God approveth, 
 but since 1 had written some books in our language in the 
 cause of the faith against certain of our advocates for the 
 most disputed tenets, I conceived that it behoved me to 
 defend the integrity of my character. And that you may 
 know how arrogantly 1 have written, I send you my epi- 
 taph, by which you will see with what assurance I leave 
 these men uncomplinicnted, that they may the less say of 
 nie what they please. 
 
 •* I have now waited a due time for suffrages on my
 
 SIR T. MORE. lyc) 
 
 official conduct, but no one hath jet stepped ibrward to 
 challenge my integrity. I must thus have bcci» very in- 
 nocent or very cautious, and if my adversaries will not 
 give me credit for the one they must for the other. The 
 king himself hath declared his sentiments on the subject 
 often in private, and twice in public. J*'or when my suc- 
 cessor, a very first-rate personage, took liis scat, his ma- 
 jesty commanded the duke of Norfolk, high-treasurer of 
 England, to bear most honourable testimony of me, yea 
 more than my modesty w ill allow me to repeat, and to say 
 that he dismissed me most unwillingly at my entreaty ; and 
 not content with so great a favour, he caused this to be 
 repeated long afterward in iiis presence, in our assembly 
 of peers and commons called parliament, by my successor, 
 in his first speech, made as is customary on that occasion.' 
 
 The monumental inscription above alluded to, was in- 
 scribed by More on the south side of the choir of his parish 
 church at Chelsea, soon after the resignation of his office. 
 The remams of his first wife being removed thither, he 
 subjoined the verses, which he had written many years pre- 
 viously.* The original and a translation here follow. 
 
 Thomas Morus, 
 Urbe Londinensi familia non celebri sed Iiouesta natus, 
 
 In Uteris ufctinque versatus, 
 Quum et causas aliquot aunos juvenis egisset in foro, 
 Et in urbe sua pro shyrevo jus dixisset, 
 
 '* English work>. 
 
 Vol. I. S
 
 130 xAIEMOIRS OF 
 
 All inviclissimo rci^c Ilcniico Vfll 
 (Cui uni rcgtim oiuiiiuin gloria prius iiuiulilu coiiligil 
 
 Ut FIDEI DEFENSOR, 
 
 Qualcm el gladio sc ct culaino vcrc praDslitit, 
 Mcrito vocaretur) 
 Adscitus in aiilam est 
 Delcctusque in consilium ct crcatus cqiics, 
 ProqujEstor primum, post caiiccUarius Lancasliiaj, tandem Angliie, 
 Miro principis favore factus est. 
 Sed interim in publico rcgni scnatu lectus est orator populi ; 
 Praetcrea legatus regis nonuunqiiara fnil, alias alibi, 
 Postrenio vero Camcr.,(;i, 
 Comes ct collcga junctus priricipi IcgaUouLs (Juthberto Tonstallo, 
 Turn Londinensi mox Dnmlemenii cpiscopo; 
 Quo viro vix babet orbis hodie quicquara eruditius, prudcntius, melius. 
 Ibi inter suramos orbis cliristiani monarclias rur.sus refecta foedcra, 
 RtdditamqiiP mundo diu desideiniam pucem 
 El lietissiiims vidit ct legatus interfuit. 
 Quam sui^ri pacem (irment faxiutquc pcrennem ! 
 la hoc ofliciorum vel hononiin cursu quum ita versarctur 
 Ut neque princeps optimus operam ejus improbaret 
 Ncquc nobilibus essct invisus, nee iujucundus populo, 
 Furibus autera, hoiuicidis, hicrcticisque molestus, 
 Pater ejus landem, Johannes JNIorus, eques, 
 Etin cum judicumordinema piincipc cooplatus qui regius consessus vocatur, 
 Homo civilis, suavis, innocens, mitis, miscricors, .-cquus ct integer, 
 Annis quidam gravis sed corpore plusquam pro ajtate vivido, 
 Postqnam eo productain sibi vitam vidit 
 L t iilium videret Angli;e canccllarium, 
 Satis in terra jam se moratum ratus 
 Libens raigravit in coelum. 
 At filius, defuncto patre, 
 Cui, quamdiu supererat, comparatus et juvenis vocari consucverat 
 Et ipse quoque sibi vidcbatur, 
 Amissura jam patrcju requirens
 
 sill T. MORE. 131 
 
 Et editos ex se libeios quatuor ac nepotes undecim lespicicus, 
 
 Apud aiiiraum suum ca-pit pcrscnesccrt. 
 
 Auxit liunc afl&^^ctum aiiimi 
 
 Siibsecuta slatim, velut appetentis senii signum, 
 
 Pectoris valctuc^? deterior. 
 
 Itaquc morlalium haruiTi rerum sattir, 
 
 Qu;i.in rem a puero peiie st-mper optaverat, 
 
 Ut ultimos aliquot vitaj suaj annos obtincret liberos, 
 
 Quibus hujus vitae negotiis paulatim se subdacens 
 
 Futura? possit immortalitatem meditari, 
 
 Earn rem (aadcm (si cccptis annuat D'us) 
 
 Indulgentissinii piincipis incomparabili beneficio 
 
 Resigiiatis bouoribus impetravit : 
 
 Atque hoc sepulcbrum sibi 
 
 Qaod mortis cum nunquam cessantis adrcpere quotidie commoncfaccret, 
 
 Translatis Luc prioris uxoris ossibus, 
 
 Extrucndum curavit. 
 
 Quod ne supors^tc's IVustra sibi tecerit 
 
 Neve ingruentiim trepidus mortem horreat, 
 
 Sed desiderio Christi libcns oppetat, 
 
 Mortemque ut sibi non omniao mortem 
 
 Sed jaimara vi(a3 fciir ioris invcniat, 
 
 Precibus eiim piis, lector optirae, 
 
 Spirantem precor defanctumque prosequere. 
 
 Chara Tboma; jacct hie Joanna iixorcula Mori, 
 
 Qv't tuniiilum Alicia; hunc destine, quique milii. 
 Una mihi dedit hoc conjuncta vircntibus annis 
 
 Me vocet nt pucr et trina puella patrem. 
 Altera privignis (qu;e gloria rara noverca; est) 
 
 Tani pia quam gnatis vix tuit uUa suis. 
 Altera sic niccum vixit, sic altera vivit, 
 
 Charior inccrtum est h«c sit an h»c fuerit. 
 
 S 2
 
 132 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 O ! simul O ! juncti potcramus viverc nos trcs 
 Quam bene, si fatum rcligiocjuc siiiaiit ! 
 
 At socict tumulus, societ nos obsccro ccelum ! 
 Sic mors, non potuit quod dare vita, dabit. 
 
 Tbomas More, 
 
 Bora in the city of London, of no distinguished but of an honest family, 
 
 Somewiiat of a proficient in literature, 
 
 When, in iiis youtli he luid pleaded at the bar some years 
 
 And discharged the olhce of under-slieriff in that city 
 
 He, by the redoubted king Henry VIH 
 
 (To whom alone of kings accrued the glory, before unknown, 
 
 Of being deservedly entitled 
 
 nEFENDEn Ol' THE FAITH, 
 
 As indeed he provetl himself by the sword as well as the pen,) 
 Was ciilied to court 
 Chosen a privy-counsellor, knighted, and made 
 Sub-treasurer, chancellor of Lancaster, and chancellor of England 
 In succession, by his king's great kindness. 
 ]Mcantimc he was chosen speaker of the commons 
 And appointed ambas-sador to various courts ; 
 Last of all to Cambray, 
 Being associated with Cuthbert Tonstall, the chief of that embassy. 
 Then bishop of London and since of Durham, 
 A man than whom the world can scarcely boast one more learned, wiser, or better. 
 There he had the pleasure to see and to negociate 
 The renewal of the leagues bitwcen the chief princes of Christendom 
 And the restoration to the world of long, wished- for peace. 
 Which jxace may heaven confirm and long preserve! 
 When he had so acquitted himself in these duties and Iionours, 
 That neither could his good king arraign his conduct 
 Nor the peers or commons disapprove, 
 Though he had been severe to thieves, murderers, and heretics,
 
 SIR T. xMORE. ISS 
 
 At length his father, Sir John More, 
 
 Appointed by his majesty a judge of the king's-beiich, 
 
 A man of courtcousand pleasant manners, harmless, gentle, full of compassion, just and uncorrupT, 
 
 Old indeed in years, yet fresh for his age in bodily strength, 
 
 After living to see his son chancellor of England, 
 
 Thinking he had tarried long enough on earth, 
 
 ' Passed willingly to heaven. 
 
 The son, on the death of his father, 
 
 Compared to whom, while he lived, he was called a young man, 
 
 And indeed seemed so to himself, 
 
 Wanting now his best parent 
 
 And beholding four children of his own and eleven grandchildren, 
 
 Began to fancy himself growing old. 
 
 And this fancy was strengthened 
 
 By the immediate succession of a disorder in his breast, 
 
 A symptom as it were of approaching age. 
 
 Having then tasted plentifully of this world's pursuits, 
 
 The thing which he had wished for from a boy. 
 
 That he might enjoy some of his last years free, 
 
 And withdrawing himself by degrees from tliis life's business 
 
 Might have leisure to meditate on his future immortality. 
 
 That thing at last (if God approve) 
 
 By the incomparable kindness of his most indulgent king, 
 
 Having resigned his honours, he hatii obtained. 
 
 And he hath erected this monument, 
 
 Having removed hither the remains of his first wife, 
 
 As a constant memorial of his ever-approaching deatli. 
 
 That he may not have done this in vain while yet he lived, 
 
 That he dread not the approach of death. 
 
 But meet it cheerfully from the love of Christ, 
 
 And that he find death not his extinction 
 
 But the entrance of a happier existence. 
 
 Do thou good reader assist him with thy pious prayers 
 
 As well now while he liveth as after his decea:>e.
 
 I'M MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Here lies ray Jane, dear wife of Thomas More, 
 
 And here my Alice and myself »oulJ Ue « 
 Tlucc girls, a boy, my Jane her pailuer bore, 
 
 M'ith rarest !>tep«.laiues may my Alic« vie. 
 Sj bless'd the Oral my jouthful ycius . ith love, 
 
 So sooths the sccoud my matiuer day, 
 Each seems in viun superior \vortb to prove 
 
 For each divides my heart with equal sway. 
 Religion's laws had they allow'd, or lu,tc, 
 
 Here brac'd in triple concord could we live ; 
 (■'rant grave, grant lieavcn that bless'd united stale, 
 
 And death all'ord wUiit lilt; couJkl uever give I 
 
 To the elegant pen of tlie Reverend Francis AVrangham 
 the reader is indebted lor the following additional translation 
 of the verses. 
 
 Within this tomb Jane, wife of More, reclines : 
 This, More for Alice and himself designs. 
 The first, dear object of my youthful vow, 
 Gave me three daughters and a son to know ; 
 The next, — ah ! virtue in a stepdamc rare ! 
 Nursed my sweet infants with a mother's care. 
 With both my years so happily have past. 
 Which most my love, I know not — first, or last. 
 O ! had religion, destiny allow'd. 
 How smoothly, raix'd, had our three fortunes flowed! 
 But be we in the tomb, in heaven allietl : 
 So kinder death shall grant, what life denied. 
 
 More had now for some years made Chelsea the place 
 of his abode. No less than four houses in that parish have
 
 SIR T. MORE. 135 
 
 laid claim to the honour of liis residence ; of whicli, that 
 subsequently belonging to Sir Robert Cecil, and more re- 
 cently called Beaufort House, appears to have the best 
 pretension. * A good distance from his house,' says Mr. 
 Rojicr, ' builded he a place called the New-building, where- 
 in Vv^as a chapel, a library, and a gallery.' Mr. More adds, 
 that Sir Thomas built a chapel or chancel in Chelsea-church 
 and furnished it liberally with plate, &c. saying, good men 
 give it and bad men take it arcay. This is said to have 
 been the south chancel ; in the east Avindow of which, his 
 arms remained until it was repaired about eighty years 
 ago. lie also hired a house for the aged, in this parish, 
 and supported them ; delegating to his favourite daughter, 
 Margaret, the office of seeing that their wants were sup- 
 plied.* 
 
 Before we leave this period of More's chancellorship, it 
 will be proper to advert to the allegation made, of his fu- 
 rious zeal while in office in persecuting heterodoxy. 
 
 Of our martyrologist Fox, it hath been justly said, that 
 neither his facts nor his temper are to be relied upon. His 
 relations of More are, however, followed by Burnet and 
 Strype ; and Mr. Hume, in a later day, following these au- 
 thorities, hath told us that Sir Thomas, though adorned 
 with the gentlest manners and the purest integrit}^ carried 
 to the utmost height his aversion to heterodoxy. Tiiis man, 
 saith the historian, whose elegant genhis and familiar ac- 
 
 * More,
 
 1S6 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 quuintance with tlie noble spirit of antiquity liad given him 
 vei ;v enJargcd .sailinicnts, anil who had in his early years 
 advanced principles wlucli even at i)resent would \)C deeni- 
 I'd somewhat too free, had in the course ot" events been so 
 irritated by polemics, and thrown into such a supersitious 
 aitaciunent to the ancient faith, that few inquisitors have 
 been guilty of greater violence in their persecution of heresy. 
 
 Zeal lor religion hath, it is true, been able in many in- 
 stances to render the sweetest dispositions ferocious, nay, 
 to inake man worse by grace than he was by nature ; and 
 the religion in which More had been educated, the igno- 
 rance and superstition, witli the usual progress ot" men's 
 sentiments, during the age in which he lived, might, had 
 lie not himself given the lie to these calumnies, have been 
 adduced at this day in extenuation of his conduct. There 
 \\ere moreover so many of corrupt minds and evil prin- 
 ciples, who abused the reformation to serve their own vilest 
 purposes, that it is not to be wondered at if More, as well 
 as others, entertained strong prejudices against it. Germany 
 was a scene of uproar, the commonalty acting as if all was 
 their own, and plundering whoever they pleased. Who 
 l<nows not, exclaims the good Erasmus, how many light 
 and seditious ones are ready, on this pretence of reforma- 
 tion, to break loose in every kind of crime, had not the 
 severity of power restrained their temerity ? Were it not for 
 this check, the pseudo-gospellers had long since broken 
 into the cellars and cabinets of the rich, and every one 
 would have proved a papist who had any thing to lose.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 137 
 
 But what Avill a candid reader require from a man of 
 Mere's acknowledged integrity, stronger tlian the following 
 curious assertions in his own behalf, to be found in the 
 36^^ chapter of his Apology, printed in his English works ? 
 with which we will conclude the present chapter, for they 
 seem to need no comment. 
 
 ' The lies are neither few nor small, which many of the 
 blessed brethren have made, and daily yet make by me. 
 Divers of them liave said, that, of such as were in my house 
 while I was chancellor, I used to examine them with tor- 
 ments, causing them to be bounden to a tree in my garden 
 and there piteously beaten. And this tale had some of 
 those good brethren so caused to be blown about, that a 
 right-worshipful friend of mine did of late, within less than 
 this fortnight, tell unto another near friend of mine, that 
 he had of late heard much speaking thereof. 
 
 ' AVhat cannot these brethren say who can be so shame- 
 less to say thus? For, of very truth, albeit that for a great 
 robbery, or an heinous murder, or sacrilege in a church, 
 with carrying away the pix with the blessed sacrament, or 
 villanously casting it out, I caused sometimes such things 
 to be done by some officers of the Marshalsea, or of some 
 
 other prisons with which ordering of them, by their 
 
 well deserved pain, and without any great hurt that after- 
 ward should stick by them, I found-out and repressed 
 many such desperate wretches as else had not failed to have 
 gone farther abroad, and to have done to many good folk 
 
 Vol. I. T
 
 133 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 a great deal much more liarm vet thousli I so did in 
 
 thieves, nmrderers, and robbers of churches, and notwith- 
 standing also that heretics be yet much worse than all they, 
 yet, saving only their sure keeping, I never did else cause 
 any such thing to be done to any of them all, in aJl my 
 life, except only tvpain. 
 
 * Of which the one was a child, and a servant of mine in 
 mine own house ; whom his father had, ere ever he came 
 with me, nursed-up in such matters, and had set him to 
 
 attend upon George Jay This George Jay did teach 
 
 this child his ungracious heresy against the blessed sacra- 
 ment of the altar. Which heresy, this child afterward, be- 
 ing in service with me, began to teach another child in my 
 house, who uttered his counsel. And, upon that point per- 
 ceived and known, I caused a servant of mine to stripe 
 him, like a child, before mine household, for amendment 
 of himself and example of such other. 
 
 ' Another was one, who after that he had fallen into 
 those fiantic heresies, fell soon after into plain open frenzy 
 beside. And albeit that he had therefore been put-up in 
 Bedlam, and afterward, by beating and correction, gather- 
 ed his remembrance to him and began to come again to 
 himself, being thereupon set at liberty, and walking about 
 abroad, his old fancies began to fall again in his head. And 
 I was from divers good holy places advertised, that he used, 
 in his wandering about, to come into the church, and there 
 make many mad toys and tritles, to the trouble of good
 
 SIR T. MORE. 139 
 
 people in the divine service. And specially would he be 
 most busy in the time of most silence, while the priest was 
 at the secrets of the mass. And if he spied any woman 
 kneeling at a form, if her head hung anything low in her 
 meditations, then would he steal lx;hind her, and if he were 
 not letted, would labour to lift-up all her clothes and cast 
 them quite over her head. 
 
 * Whereupon, I being advertised of these pageants, and 
 being sent unto and required by very devout, religious folk, 
 to take some other order with him, caused him, as he came 
 wandering by my door, to be taken by the constables and 
 bounden to a tree in the street, before the whole town ; 
 and there they striped him with rods therefore, till he Avax- 
 ed weary, and somewhat longer. And it appeared well 
 that his remembrance was good enough, save that it went 
 about in grazing till it Avas beaten home. For he could 
 then very well rehearse his faults himself, and speak and 
 treat very well, and promise to do afterward as well. And 
 verily, God be thanked ! I hear none harm of him now. 
 
 ' And of all who ever came in my hand for heresy, as 
 help me God ! saving, as I said, the sure keeping of them 
 (and yet not so sure neither, but that George Constantine 
 could steal away), else had never any of them any stripe 
 or stroke given them, so much as a fillip on the forehead. 
 
 T2
 
 140 MEarOIRS OF 
 
 * And now dare I say, that if tliis pacifier had by expe- 
 rience known the truth of that kind of people, he avouUI 
 not have given so much credence to their lamentable com- 
 plainings Howbeit, what faith my ^vords will have with 
 
 him, in these mine own causes, 1 can not very surely say ; 
 nor yet very greatly care. iVnd yet stand I not in so much 
 doubt of myself, but that I trust well, that among many 
 good and honest men (among which sort of folk I trust I 
 may reckon him), mine own word would alone, even in 
 mine own cause, be somewhat better believed, than would 
 the oaths ot some twain of this new brotherhood in a mat- 
 ter of another man/
 
 SIR T. MORE. 141 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 More*s anticipation of his fate. . . . He tvithdraws from public business. 
 .... His remark on Henry's second marriage, and advice to Crom- 
 tvell. , . . His behaviour to the bishops. . . . Malignant scrutiny on his 
 conduct. . . . The nun of Kent. . . . More's letter to Cromwell, and a 
 curious anecdote. . . . More accused of misprision of treason. . . . Con- 
 duct of the committee for examining him. . . . More's firmness. . . . 
 His letter to the king. . . . He is accused of ingratitude. . . . His re- 
 ply. . . . Anecdote on his return home. . . . The king's conduct. , . . 
 More's name erased from the bill. . . . Acts passed in parliament. . . . 
 Henry's triumph in his new titles. . . . Opinions of the Romish party, 
 and of their adversaries. . . . More refuselh the oath of succession. . . . 
 He is cited to appear at Lambeth. . . . His foreboding, and letter to 
 his daughter. . . . Cranmer's argument, and his curious letter. . . . 
 More and Fisher committed to the Tower, ajid attainted. . . . More's 
 sentiments on the king's marriage, and the pope's primacy. 
 
 XI IS voluntary resignation of this world's dignity was the 
 signal for More's rapid declension from his high elevation, 
 to the lowest point of this world's miserj^ ; and, his ac- 
 quaintance with Henry's character enabled him to anticipate 
 the troubles of his latter days long before their event.
 
 112 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ' He would talk,' sijys Mr. Kopcr, ' unto his wife and 
 children of the joys of heaven and pains of hell, of the 
 lires of holy martyrs, of their grievous martyrdoms, of their 
 marvellous patience, and of their passions and deaths ; 
 ■which they sutiered rather than they would offend God. 
 And what a happy and blessed thing it was, for the love of 
 God to sutler the loss of goods, imprisonment, loss of lands, 
 and life also. — Wherewith, and the like virtuous talk, he 
 had so long before his trouble encouraged them, that when 
 he afterward fell into trouble indeed, liis trouble was to 
 them a great deal the less/ 
 
 When he resigned his office, More withdrew his attention 
 entirely from public affairs, and devoted himself to prayer 
 and to his writings. He lessened his establishment, sold a 
 part of his effects, and sent his children to their own houses. 
 He is said to have passed many sleepless nights in the an- 
 ticipation of his fate, and to have prayed with fervour for 
 courage under it, — for his flesh, he said, could not endure a 
 Jillip. He once went so far as to hire a pursuivant to come 
 on a sudden at dinner-tinie to his house, and, knocking 
 hastily at the door, to summon him before the council the 
 next day. This was to prepare his family for what they 
 had to expect.*' 
 
 AVhen the king married Ann Boleyn, Cod give grace son, 
 said Sir Thomas to Mr. Roper, that these matters within a 
 zihile be not conjinned with oaths. 
 
 * More.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 143 
 
 One day when Thomas Cromwell came to him at Chelsea 
 with a message from the king. More said to him, ' Mr. 
 Cromwell you are now entered into the service of a most 
 noble, wise, and liberal prince. If you will follow my poor 
 advice, you shall in your counsel-giving to his grace, ever 
 tell him what he ought to do, but never what he is able to 
 do ; so shall you shew yourself a true, faithful servant, and 
 a right Avorthy counsellor. For, if a lion knew his own 
 strength, hard were it for any man to rule him.'* More's 
 great-grandson adds, that Cromwell never learned this les- 
 son, for he advised Henry as he thought would please him. 
 
 Shortly before the new queen's coronation, More receiv- 
 ed a letter from the bishops of Durham, Bath, and Win- 
 chester, requesting him to keep them company from the 
 Tower to the coronation at Westminster, and to accept of 
 £20 which they sent at the same time to buy him a gown. 
 More received the money but remained at home, and told 
 their lordships when he saw them, that as he had complied 
 with one of their requests, he was the bolder in refusing the 
 other. 
 
 Their conduct, he added, put him in mind of an em- 
 peror who made a law, that whoever committed a certain 
 offence, unless the offender was a virgin, should suffer death. 
 Now it happened that the first offender was a virgin, and 
 the emperor was in some perplexity how to act, for he wish- 
 ed to enforce his law. When his council had debated the 
 
 * Roper.
 
 144 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 matter for sonic time, a good, plain man arose and said, 
 Avhy make ye so much ado my lords about so small a mat- 
 ter? — let her be first deflowered and thereafter may she be 
 devoured. ' And so though your lordships,' continued the 
 knight, ' have in the matter of the matrimony hitherto 
 kept yourselves pure virgins, yet take good heed my lords 
 that ye keep your virginity still. For some there be who, 
 by procuring your lordships first at the coronation to be 
 present, and next to preach. for the setting-forth of it, and 
 finally to write books to all the world in defence thereof, 
 are desirous to deflower ye ; and when they have deflower- 
 ed ye, then will they not fail soon after to devour ye. Now, 
 my lords, it lieth not in my power but that they may de- 
 vour me, but, God being my good Lord, I will so provide 
 that they shall never deflower me.' * 
 
 It hath been conjectured that these words were reported 
 to the queen, and that she incensed her consort against 
 More. But it is perhaps more probable, that considering 
 his great weight and influence in the .kingdom, and per- 
 ceiving that no persuasions were likely to move the knight 
 to favour the divorce, the bad part of Henry's disposition 
 began now to prevail, and that he determined to adopt 
 harsher measures against More, which led in the end to one 
 of the deepest stains in his reign. 
 
 At least malignant sciiitiny appears from this time to 
 have been exercised with diligence, in discovering some 
 
 • Roper*
 
 SIR T. RIORE. 145 
 
 ground of accusation against him. In his English works is 
 preserved a letter from More to Thomas Cromwell, vindi- 
 cating himself against a false report which had been circu- 
 lated, that he had written an answer to the king's justifica- 
 tion of his appeal from the pope. But Elizabeth Barton, 
 commonly called the Holy maid of Kent, her ravings and 
 revelations, soon atibrded the enemies of More a fairer oc- 
 casion for the exercise of their malignity. A curious letter 
 from More to Cromwell, which throws the strongest lio-ht 
 upon this subject, and which was probably written for the 
 king's eye, hath been preserved, and is here presented to 
 the reader as aflbrding an authentic history of the transac- 
 tion. 
 
 Sir Thomas More to Mr. Thomas Cromwell. 
 
 Righ t Worsli i p ful , 
 
 • After m}' most hearty recommendation, with like thanks 
 for your goodness in accepting of my rude long letter, — I 
 perceive that of your farther goodness and favour toward 
 me, it liked your mastership to break with my son Roper, 
 of that that I had had communication, not only with divers 
 who were of ac(iuaintance with the lewd nun of Canterbury, 
 but also with herself; aud had over that, by my writing 
 declaring favour toward her, given her advice and counsel. 
 Of which my demeanor, that it liketh you to be content to 
 take the labour and the pain to hear, by mine own writing, 
 the truth, I very heartily thank you, and reckon myself 
 therein right deeply beholden to you. 
 
 Vol. I. U
 
 14(5 ME^rOIRS OF 
 
 ' It is, I suppose, about eight or nine years ago since I 
 heard of that housewife first. At which time the bishop of 
 Canterbury that then ^\as (God absolve his soul !) sent unto 
 the king's grace a roll of paper, in whicii were wiitten cer- 
 tain words of hei*s, which slie had, as report was then made, 
 at sundry times spoken in her trances. Whcreu])on it pleased 
 the king's grace to deliver me the roll, commanding me to 
 look thereon and afterward shew him what 1 thought tiiere- 
 in. AVhereunto at another time, when his highness asked 
 me, I told him, that in good faith I found nothing in those 
 Words that I could anything regard or esteem. For, seeing 
 that some part fell in rhythm, and that God wots full rude 
 also ! for any reason God wots ! that I saw therein, a right 
 smiple woman might, in my mind, speak it of her own 
 wit well enough. Ilowbcit, I said, that because it was 
 constantly reported ibr a truth that God wrought in hcr^ 
 and that a miracle was shewed upon her, I durst not, nor 
 would not be bold in judging the matter. And tlie king's 
 grace, as melhought esteemed the matter as light, as it al- 
 ter proved lewd. 
 
 ' From that time till about christmas was twelvemonth, 
 albeit that continually there was much talking of her and of 
 her holiness, yet never heard I any talk rehearsed either of 
 revelation of hers or miracle ; saving that I heard say, divers 
 times, in my lord cardinal's days, that she had been both 
 with his lordship and with the king's grace. But what she 
 said, either to the one or to the other, upon my faith I had 
 never heard any one word.
 
 Sm T. MORE. MI 
 
 ' Now, as I wa3 about to tell you, about Christmas was 
 twelvemonth, father Risby, friar observant, then of Can- 
 terbur}', lodged one night at my house. Where, after sup- 
 per, a little before he went to his chamber, he fell in com- 
 munication with me of the nun; giving her high commenda- 
 tion of holiness, and that it was wonderful to see and un- 
 dersand the works which God wrought in her. Which thino", 
 I answered, that I was very glad to hear it, and thanked 
 God thereof. Then he told me that she had been with my 
 lord legate in his life, and with the king's grace too. And 
 that she had told my lord legate a revelation of hers, of 
 three swords which God had put in my lord legate's hand ; 
 which if he ordered not well, God would lay it sore to his 
 charge. The first, she said, was the ordering the spirituality 
 under the pope as legate ; the second, the rule that he bore 
 in order of the temporality under the king as his chancellor; 
 and the third, she said, was the meddling he was put in 
 trust with by the king, concerning the great matter of his 
 marriage. And therewithal I said unto him, that any re- 
 velation of the king's matters I would not hear of; I doubt- 
 ed not but the goodness of God should direct his hiohness 
 with his grace and wisdom, that the thing should take such 
 end as God should be pleased with, to the king's honour 
 and surety of the realm. When he heard me say these 
 words or the like, he said unto me, that God had specially 
 conmianded her to pray for the king. And forthwith he 
 brake again into her revelations concerning the cardinal, — - 
 that his soul was saved by her mediation ; and without any 
 other communication, went unto his chamber. And he 
 
 U 2
 
 148 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 and I never talked any more of any such manner of mat- 
 ter. Nor, since his departing on the morrow, I never saw 
 him after, to my remembrance, till I saw him at Paul's 
 cross. 
 
 * After this, about shrovetide, there came unto me, a 
 little before supper, father ivich, friar observant of Rich- 
 mond. And as we fell in talking, I asked him of father 
 Risby how he did .'' And upon that occasion he asked me, 
 whether father Risby had any thing shewed me of the holy 
 nun of Kent. And 1 said yea, and that I was very glad to 
 hear of her virtue. / would not, quoth he, tell you again 
 that you have heard of him already ; but I have heard and 
 known many great graces which God hath wrought in her^ 
 and in other folk by her, which I zeould gladly tell you if I 
 thought you had not heard them already. And therewith he 
 asked me, whether father Risby had told me any thing of 
 her being with my lord cardinal? And I said j/ea. Then 
 he told you, quoth he, of the three swords. Yea verilyy 
 quoth I. Did he tell yon, quoth he, of the revelations which 
 she had concerning the king's grace? Nay forsooth, quoth I,, 
 nor if he would have done, I would not have given him the 
 hearing; nor verily no more I would indeed ; for since she 
 hath been with the king*s grace herself and told him, me- 
 thought it a thing needless to tell me or to any man else. 
 And when father Rich perceived that 1 would not hear her 
 revelations concerning the king's grace, he talked on a little 
 of her virtue, and let her revelations alone. And thercAvith 
 my supper was set upon the board, where I required liim
 
 SIR T. MORE. U9 
 
 to sit with me ; but he would in nowise tarry, but departed 
 to London. 
 
 * After that night I talked with him twice ; once in mine 
 own house, another time in his own garden at the friars. 
 At every time a great space, but not of any revelations 
 touching the king's grace ; but only of other mean folk I 
 know not whom, of which things some were very strange 
 and some were very childish. But albeit that he said he 
 had seen her lie in her trance in great pains, and that he 
 had at other times taken great spiritual comfort in her com- 
 munication, yet did he never tell me that she had told him 
 those tales herself. For if he had, I would for the talc o. 
 Mary Magdalen which he told me, and for the tale of the 
 host with which, as I have heard, she said she was houseled 
 at the king's mass at Calais, if I had heard it of him as told 
 unto himself by her mouth for a revelation, I would have 
 both liked him and her the worse. But whether ever I heard 
 the same tale of Rich or of Risby, or of neither of them 
 both, but of some other man since she was in hold, in good 
 faith I cannot tell. But I wot well when or wheresoever I 
 heard it, methought it a tale too marvellous to be true ; 
 and very likely that she had told some man her dream who 
 told it out for a revelation. And in effect I little doubted, 
 but that some of these tales which were told of her Avere 
 untrue. But yet, since I never heard them reported as 
 spoken by her own mouth, I thought nevertheless that many 
 of them might be true, and she a very virtuous woman too. 
 As some lies be peradventure written of some who be saints
 
 150 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 in heaven, and yet many nuracles indeed done by them for 
 all that. 
 
 * After this, I being upon a day at Sion, and talking 
 ■with divers of the fathers together at the grate, they shewed 
 me that she had been with them, and slieweti me divers 
 thing's which some of them mishkcd in her. And in this 
 talking, they wished that 1 had spoken with her, and said 
 they would fain see how 1 should like her. Whereupon, 
 afterward when I heard that she was there again, I came 
 thither to see her and to speak with her myself At which 
 communication, had in a little chapel, there were none pre- 
 sent but we two. In the be^innins: whereof I shewed, that 
 
 OCT ■' 
 
 my coming to her was not of any curious mind anything 
 to know, of such things as folk talked that it pleased God 
 to reveal and shew unto her. But for the great virtue which 
 I had heard so many years, every day more and more, 
 spoken and reported of her, I therefore had a great mind 
 to sec her and be accjuaintcd with her, that she nnght have 
 somewhat the more occasion to remember me to God in her 
 devotion and prayers, M heieunto she gave me a very good, 
 virtuous answer ; that, as God did of his goodness far bet- 
 ter by her than she a poor wretch was worthy, so she fear- 
 ed that many Iblk yet beside that spoke, of their own fa- 
 vourable minds, many things for her lar above the trutii. 
 And that of me she had many such things heard, that al- 
 ready she jjrayed for me and ever would. ^V hereof I hearti- 
 ly thanked lier.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 151 
 
 f * I said unto her, Madam, one Hellen, a maiden dusdling 
 about Tottenham, of lohose trances and revelations there hath 
 been much talking, she hath been with me of late, and shewed 
 me that she zaas with you; and that, after the rehearsal of such 
 xnsions as she had seeti, you shewed her that they were no re- 
 velations, but plain illusions of the devil, and advised her to 
 cast them out of her mind. And verily she gave therein good 
 credence zinto you, and thereupon hath left to lean any longer 
 unto such visions of her own. Ji hereupon she saith, shefnd- 
 eth your words true ; for ever since, she hath been the less 
 visited with such things as she was wont to be before. To 
 this she answered me, — Forsooth sir, there is in this point 
 no praise unto me, but the goodness of God as it appeareth 
 hath wrought much meekness in her soul, which hath taken 
 my rude warning so well and not grudged to hear her spirit 
 and her visions reproved. I liked her in good laith better 
 for this answer, than for many of these things that 1 heard 
 reported by her. Afterward she told me upon that occa- 
 sion, how great need folk have who are visited with such 
 visions, to take heed and prove well of what spirit they 
 come of. And in that communication she told me, that of 
 late the devil, in likeness of a bird, was flying and flutter- 
 ing about her in a chamber, and suffered himself to be 
 taken. And being in hands, suddenly changed in their 
 sight who were present, into such a strange ugly-fashioned 
 bird, that they were all afraid and threw him out at a win- 
 dow. 
 
 ' For conclusion we talked no word of the king's
 
 159 • MEMOIRS OF 
 
 grace or any great personage else, nor in effect of any man 
 or woman but of herself anil myself". Jkit after no long 
 connnunication had (for ere ever we met my time came to 
 go home), I gave her a double-ckicat, and prayed her to 
 pray for me and mine, and so departed from her and never 
 spake witli her after. Ilowbcit, of a truth, I had a great 
 good opinion of her and had her in great estimation, as 
 you shall perceive by the letter which 1 wrote unto her. 
 For afterward — because I had often heard that many n^i^ht 
 woishipful folks, as well men as women, used to have much 
 communication with her ; and many folk are of nature in- 
 quisitive and curious, whereby they fall sometimes into such 
 talking, that better were it to forbear, of which thing I no- 
 thing thought while I talked with her of charity there- 
 fore I wrote her a letter thereof. Wliich, since it may be 
 peradventure thai she brake or lost, I shall insert the very 
 copy tiiereof in this present letter. These were the very 
 -words ; 
 
 Good Madam and my right dearhj-hdoved 
 lister in our Lord God ! 
 
 ' i\fter most hearty commendation, I shall beseech you 
 to take my good mind in good worth ; and pardon me that 
 I am so homely, as of myself, unrequired, and also with- 
 out necessity , to give counsel to you ; of whon), for the 
 good inspirations and great revelations, which it liketh Al- 
 mighty God of his goodness to give and shew (as many wise, 
 well-learned, and very virtuous folk testify), 1 myself have 
 need, for the comfort of my soul, to require and ask ad-
 
 SIR T. MORE. 153 
 
 vice. For surely, good madam, since it pleaseth God some- 
 times to suffer such as are far under, and of little estimation, 
 to give yet fruitful advertisement to such others as are in 
 the light of the spirit so far above them, that there were 
 between them no comparison (as he suffered his high pro- 
 phet Moses to be in some things advised and counselled by 
 Jethro), I cannot, for the love which in our Lord I bear 
 3'ou, refrain to put you in remembrance of one thing, which 
 in my poor mind I think highly necessary to be by your 
 wisdom considered, referring the end and the order thereof 
 to God and his holy spirit to direct you. Good madam I 
 doubt not but that vou remember, that in the begfinnino; of 
 my communication with you, I shewed you that I neither 
 was nor would be curious, of any knowledge of other men's 
 matters. And least of all of any matter of princes or of 
 the realm. In case it so were that God had, as to many 
 good folks beforetime he hath, any time revealed unto 
 you such things, I said unto your ludyship that I Avas not 
 only not desirous to hear of, but also mould not hear of 
 them. 
 
 ' Now madam I consider well, that many folk desire to 
 speak with you, who are not all peradventure of my mind 
 in this point. But some hap to be curious and inquisitive 
 of things which little pertain unto their parts ; and some 
 might peradventure hap to talk of such things as might 
 peradventure afterward turn to much harm. As I think 
 you have heard how the late duke of Buckiuiiham Avas 
 moved with the fame of one who was reported for an holy 
 
 Vol. I. X
 
 154 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 monk, and had such talking with hun as attcrward was it 
 great piirt of liis destruction and disheriting of liis bloody 
 and great slander and infamy of religion. It sulUceth me, 
 good madam, to put you in rememhrance of such things. 
 As I nothing doubt, your wisdom and the spirit of God 
 shall keep you from talking with any person (s[x;cially with 
 high persons), of any such manner of things as pertain to 
 prince's aflairs, or the state of the realm. But only to com- 
 mune and talk with any person, high and low, of such man- 
 ner of things, as may to the soul be profitiible for you to 
 shew, and for them to know. 
 
 * And thus, my good lady and dearly-beloved sister in 
 our Lord, I make an end of this my needless advertise- 
 ment unto you : AVhom the blessed Trinity preserve and 
 increase in grace ; and put in your mind, to recommend 
 me and mine unto him in your devout prayers. At Chel- 
 sea, this Tuesday, by the hand of 
 
 Your heart3'-loving brother and bedesman, 
 
 THOMAS MORE, K'. 
 
 ' At the receipt of this letter, she answered my servant, 
 that she heartily thanked me. Soon after this, there came 
 to mine house, the prior of the charterhouse at Shene, 
 and one Brother Williams with him. Who nothing talked 
 to me, but of her and of the great joy that they took in 
 her virtue ; but of any of her revelations they had no com- 
 munication But at another time Brother AVilliams came
 
 SIR T. MORE. 155 
 
 to me and told me a long tale, of her being at the house 
 of a knight in Kent who was sore-troubled with temptations 
 to destroy himself. And none other thing we talked of, 
 nor should have done of likelihood though we had tarried 
 together much longer, he took so great pleasure, good man ! 
 to tell the tale with all the circumstances at length. 
 
 ' "When I came again another day to Sion, on a day in 
 which there was a profession, some of the fathers asked mc 
 how I liked the nun ? And 1 answered, that in good faith I 
 liked her very well in her talking ; howbeit, quoth I, she is 
 never the nearer tried by that : For I assure ye, she zvere 
 likely to he very bad, if she seemed good, ere I should think 
 her other, till she happened to he proved naught. And in 
 good faith that is my manner mdeed, except I were set to 
 search and examine the truth upon likelihood of some cloak- 
 ed evil. For in that case, although I nothing suspected 
 the person myself, yet, no less than if I suspected him sore, 
 I would, as far as my wit would serve me, search to find 
 out the truth ; as yourself hath done very prudently in this 
 matter. Wherein you have done, in my mind to your great 
 laud and praise, a ver}"^ meritorious deed, in briuging-forth 
 to light such detestable hypocrisy. Whereby every other 
 wretch may take warning, and be feared to set-forth their 
 own devilish-dissembled falsehood, under the manner and 
 colour of the wonderful work of God. For verily this wo- 
 man so handled herself with help of that evil spirit who in- 
 spired her, that, after her own confession declared at Paul's- 
 cross, when I sent word by my servant unto the prior of 
 
 X 2
 
 156 A^EMOJRS OF 
 
 tlie cliaiterhousc that slic Avas undoubtedly proved a false, 
 deceiving hypocrite, the good man had had so good opi-r 
 uion of her so long, that he could at the first scantly believe 
 me therein. Ilowbeit, it was not he alone wiio thouo;ht 
 her so very good, but many another right good man beside; 
 as little marvel was, upon so good report, till she was prov- 
 ed naught/ 
 
 A curious anecdote attends this letter. When INIore's 
 English works were printed by order of queen Mar\', this 
 letter was concealed, though not destroyed. It was resolved, 
 it seems, to raise the credit of the nun's story, who, being 
 acknowledged a martyr as well as a prophetess, might per- 
 haps have obtained canonization ; and it was judged im- 
 prudent, no doubt, to leave so high a tcstiiuony as this from 
 More in her way. 
 
 1534. The session of parliament holden early in 1534, passed 
 an act of attainder against some who were engaged in this 
 imposture. Elizabeth herself, and several others, suffered 
 for their crime; while Fisher and others were condemned 
 for misprision of treason, because they had not discovered 
 what they heard from Elizabeth. 
 
 More's name was at first included in the latter bill, and 
 
 t Burnet ex M-S.S. Norfolc.
 
 SIR T. MORE. ]57 
 
 Mr. Roper informs us that the knight soHcited to be him- 
 self heard by the king in his own defence. Henry, how- 
 ever, appointed the archbishop of Canterbury, the chan- 
 cellor, the duke of Norfolk and Cromwell to examine him ; 
 and when Mr. Roper advised More with anxiety to use his 
 interest with these commissioners to obtain his discharge 
 from the bill, he answered he would. 
 
 The committee, however, soon threw-off the mask, and 
 proved plainly enough by their proceedings, that the atfair 
 of the nun was merely a hand/e on this occasion. For in- 
 stead of insisting on that point, the chancellor began by 
 recapitulating to More the king's favours, adding, that he 
 could ask no worldly promotion which Avould be denied 
 him, and hoping, in conclusion, that this view of his ma- 
 jesty's affection toward him, would induce the knight to re- 
 compence the king in his turn, and to add his consent to 
 what the parliament, the bishops, and the universities had al- 
 ready passed. 
 
 More, continues Mr. Roper, mildly replied, — ' No man 
 living is there my lords, who would with better will do the 
 thing which should be acceptable to the king's highness, 
 than I ; who must needs confess, his manifold . goodness 
 and bountiful benefits, most liberally bestowed on me. 
 Howbeit I verily hoped, I should never have heard of this 
 matter more ; considering that I have from time to time, 
 alway from the beginning, so plainly and truly declared my 
 mind unto his grace, which iiis highness ever seemed to me.
 
 IflS MEMOIRS OF 
 
 like a most gracious prince, very well to accept, never mind- 
 ing, as he said, to molest me more therewith. Since which 
 time, any farther thing which was able to move me to any 
 change could I never find. And if I could, there is none 
 in all the world who would have been gladder of it than 1/ 
 
 The knight had likewise addressed to his majesty the fol- 
 lowing letter relative to the atfair of the nun ; in which it 
 seemeth that he thought it advisable to hold his king in re- 
 membrance of what his majest}' had formerly promised as 
 to the knight's honour. 
 
 o 
 
 Sir Thomas More to King Henri/ VIII. 
 
 * It may like your highness to call to your gracious re- 
 membrance, that at such time as, of the great weighty 
 room and office of your clianccUor (with which, so far above 
 my merits or qualities able and meet therefore, your high- 
 ness had of your incomparable goodness honoured and ex- 
 alted me), you were so good and gracious unto me, as at 
 my poor humble suit to discharge and disburden me, giving 
 me licence with your gracious favour, to bestow the residue 
 of my life to come about the provision for my soul in the 
 service of God, and to be your bedesman and pray for 
 
 you it pleased your highness farther to say unto me, 
 
 that for the service which 1 before had done you (which it 
 then liked your goodness far above my deserving to com- 
 mend), that in any suit which I should after have to your 
 grace, which either should concern mine honour (the word
 
 SIR T. MORE. IbO 
 
 it liked your highness to use unto mc), or tluit sliould per- 
 tain unto my profit, I should find your highness a good and 
 gracious lord unto me. 
 
 * So is it now, gracious sovereign, that worldly honour is 
 the thing whereof I have resigned both the possession and 
 the desire, in the resignation of your most honourable of- 
 fice. And worldly profit, I trust experience proveth, and 
 daily more and more shall prove, that I never was very 
 greedy thereof. 
 
 ' But now is my most humble suit unto your excellent 
 highness, to beseech the same somewhat to tender my poor 
 honesty. Howbeit principally, that of your accustomed 
 goodness, no sinister information move your noble grace, 
 to have any more distmst of my truth and devotion toward 
 you, than I have or shall during my life give cause. For 
 in this matter of the nun of Canterbury, I have unto your 
 trusty counsellor Mr. Thomas Cromwell, b}' my writing, as 
 plainly declared the truth as I possibly can. Which my de- 
 claration, of his duty toward your grace and his goodness 
 toward me, he hath, I understand, declared unto your grace. 
 In any part of all which my dealing, whether any other 
 man may peradventure put any doubt or move any scruple 
 of suspicion, that can I neither tell, nor lieth it in my 
 hand to let. But unto myself it is not possible any part 
 of my said demeanour to seem evil, the very clearness of 
 mine own conscience knoweth in all that matter my mind 
 and intent so good.
 
 160 MEMOIRS or 
 
 * Wherefore, most gracious sovereign, I neither will, nor 
 yet can it well become mo, with your highness to reason 
 or argue that matter; but in my most humble manner, 
 prostrate at your gracious feet, I only beseech your grace, 
 •with your own high prudence and 3'our accustomed good- 
 ness, consider and weigh the matter. And if that in your 
 so doing, your osvi virtuous mind shall give you, that not- 
 ■withstanding the manifold and excellent goodness that your 
 gracious highness hath by so many manner of ways used 
 imto me, I were a wretch of such a monstrous ingratitude, 
 as could with any of them all, or any other person living, 
 digress from my bounden duty of allegiance toward 3'our 
 good grace, then desire I no farther favour at your gracious 
 hand, than the loss of all that ever I may lose, goods, lands, 
 liberty, and fmally my life withal, ^\'he^eof the keeping 
 of any part unto myself could never do me a pennyworth 
 of pleasure ; but only should my comfort be, that after my 
 short life and 3'our long (which, with continual prosperity 
 to God's pleasure, our Lord of his mercy send you !), I should 
 once meet your grace again in heaven, and there be merr^' 
 with you. Where among mine other pleasures, this should 
 yet be one ; that your grace should surely see there then, 
 that howsoever you take me, I am your true bedeman now, 
 and ever have been, and will be till I die, howsoever your 
 pleasure be to do by me. 
 
 * Howbeit, if in the considering of my cause, your high 
 wisdom and gracious goodness perceive (as I verily trust in 
 God you shall), that I none otherwise have demeaned my-
 
 SIR T. 3IORE. IGl 
 
 self than well may stand with my bounden duty of faith- 
 fulness toward your royal majesty; then in my most humble 
 wise I beseech 3'our most noble grace, that the .knowledge 
 of your true gracious persuasion in that behalf may relieve 
 the torment of my present heaviness (conceived of the dread 
 and fear, by that I hear such a grievous bill put by your 
 learned counsel into your high court of parliament against 
 me) — lest your grace might, by some sinister information, 
 be moved any thing to think the contrary. 
 
 ' Which if your highness do not, as I trust in God and 
 your great goodness, the matter by your own high prudence 
 examined and considered, you will not ; then in my most 
 
 humble manner I beseech your highness farther albeit 
 
 that in respect of my former request this other thing is 
 very slight ; yet since your highness hath herebefore, of 
 your more abundant goodness, heaped and accumulated 
 upon me, though I was thereto far unworthy, from time to 
 time, both worship and great honour too ; since I now have 
 left all such things, and nothing seek or desire but the life 
 
 to come, and pray for your grace the while it may like 
 
 ' your highness of your accustomed benignity, somewhat to 
 tender my poor honesty ; and never suffer, by the mean of 
 such a bill put-forth against me, any man to take occasion 
 hereafter against the truth to slander me. Who should yet, 
 by the peril of their own souls, do themselves more hurt 
 than me; who shall, I trust, settle ray heart, with your 
 gracious favour, to depend upon the comfort of the truth 
 
 Vol. I. Y
 
 162 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 aiul liojie of heaven, and not upon the fallible opinion, or 
 soon-spokon words, of light and soon-changeable people. 
 
 ' And thus, most dread and most dear sovereign lord, I 
 beseech the blessed 'IVinity preserve your most noble grace 
 both body and soul, and all who arc your Avell-willers, and 
 amend all the contrary. Among whom, if ever I be, or 
 ever have been one, then pray I God, that he may with 
 mine open shame and destruction declare it.' * 
 
 When the committee found that no persuasions would 
 move More in the determination he had made, they had re- 
 course to threats, and told him that the king had ordered, 
 if gentleness would not win him, that in his name they 
 should charge him with ingratitude, — that never was there 
 servant to his sovereign so villanous, nor subject to his prince 
 so traiterous, as he. For he, by subtle, sinister slights, ?nost 
 unnaturally procuring and provoking him to set-forth a book 
 of the assertion of the seven sacraments and maintenance of 
 the pope^s authority, had caused him, to his dishonour through- 
 out all Christendom, to put a sword in the pope's hand to 
 fight against himself. -f 
 
 • My lords,' replied More, ' these terrors be arguments 
 for children and not for me. But to answer to that, where- 
 with ye do chiefly burden me, — I believe the king's high- 
 ness, of his honour, will never lay that to my charge ; for 
 
 • £ng. works. f Roper.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 1G3 
 
 none is there who can in that point say in my excuse more 
 than his highness himself. Who right well knoweth, that I 
 was never procurer nor counsellor of his majesty thereunto, 
 but after it was finished, by his grace's appointment, and 
 consent of the maker's of the same, I was only a sorter-out 
 and placer of the principal matters therein contained. 
 Wherein when I found the pope^s authority highly advanced, 
 and with strong arguments miglitily defended, I said unto 
 his grace, I must put your highuess in remembrance of one 
 thing, and that is this. The pope, as your grace knoweth, is 
 a prince as i/ou are, and in league xvith alt other christian 
 princes. It may so hereafter fall-out, that your grace and he 
 may vary upon some points of leagues, whereupon may gro'ssi) 
 breach of amity and war between ye both. I think it best 
 therefore that that place be amended, and his authority more, 
 slenderly touched. 
 
 ' Nay,' quoth his grace, ' that shall it not. We are so 
 much bounden to the see of Rome, that we cannot do too much 
 honour to it. 
 
 ' Then did I farther put him in remembrance of the sta- 
 tute of premunire, Avhereby a good part of the pope's pas- 
 toral cure here was pared away. To that answered his high- 
 ness, whatsoever impediment be to the contrary, we will set- 
 forth that authority to the uttermost, for we receive from that 
 see our crown imperial; which I never heard-of before till 
 his grace told it me with his own mouth. -So that I trust, 
 when his grace shall be once truly informed of this, and 
 4 Y2
 
 jGI MEMOIRS OF 
 
 call to his gracious rcincinbruncc my doings in that bciialf, 
 his highness will never speak of it more, but clear me there- 
 in thoroughly himself.' And thus displeasantly departed 
 
 t/iey, adds Mr. Roper. 
 
 More now took boat for Chelsea and was very merry by 
 the way, Mr. Roper rejoicing to see him so, hoped he was 
 discharged from the bill. When they reached Chelsea, they 
 walked together in the garden, and Mr. Roper observed, I 
 inint sir that all is well, because that you be so merry. 
 
 It is so indeed son Roper, I thank God I answered the 
 knight. 
 
 Jire you then put-out of the parliament bill ? 
 
 Bj/ my truth, son Roper, I never remembered it. 
 
 Never remembered it ! a cause that toucheth yourself so 
 near, and us all for your sake ! I am sorry to hear it ; for I 
 verily trusted when I saw you so merry, that all had been 
 uell. 
 
 Wilt thou know, son Roper, why I was so merry ? 
 
 That would I gladly, sir. 
 
 In good faith I rejoiced, son, that 1 had given the devil a
 
 SIR T. MOilE. 1&3 
 
 foul fail ; and fhal with those lords I had gone so far, as 
 without great shame I could never go hack again. 
 
 Henry, as might be expected, was highly offended with 
 More for what was little less than charging him with a de- 
 liberate falsehood, and in his unjust revenge he said the bill 
 regarding the nun should proceed against the kniglit. The 
 chancellor and other lords replied, the upper-house was so 
 bent on hearing him in his own defence, that it were best to 
 rescind his name from the bill. Henry was, however, too 
 much bent on carrying his point, not to reject this proposal. 
 He was too haughty to submit to a subject with whom he 
 had entered the lists, and too revengeful to forgive a man 
 who had been his favourite and yet had dared to offend 
 him. After a good deal of bouncing, he said he would 
 himself be present in the house when the bill should pass ; 
 imagining, no doubt, that the parliament stood so much in 
 awe of him, that the lords would not dare in his presence 
 to reject it. 
 
 The committee of council, however, were of a different 
 opinion. They feared, or pretended to fear, the talents 
 and eloquence of Sir Thomas, Avhich were superior and 
 commanding ; nor did they deem it prudent to hazard his 
 appearance to plead in his own defence, whose virtues and 
 amiable conduct had prejudiced so many in his favour be-- 
 fore he spoke.* 
 
 * Roper and Warner.
 
 JOG MEMOIRS OF 
 
 But the moic they pressed Henry to give way, the 
 haughtier he grew in insisting on liis point, ^\'hether they 
 really appreliended a defeat, or whether they contended 
 with the king in this manner from the personal friendship 
 they had for Sir Thomas, it is difHcult to say. If we re- 
 collect the tyranny Avith which Henry treated his jiarlia- 
 ments we shall perhaps ascribe their arguments to the lat- 
 ter cause, or to the apprehension of the people's clamour 
 if he was attainted as the accomplice of so weak an im- 
 postor. 
 
 Audley and the rest (says Mr. Roper) at last besought 
 Henry on their knees, to forbear; adding, they mistvusted 
 not, in time, against him to find some meet matter to serve 
 the king's turn better. For in this cause of the nun he was 
 accounted so innocent and clear, that for his dealings there- 
 in, men reckoned him far worthier of praise than of reproof . 
 
 Henry at length complied ; and Cromwell meeting Mr. 
 Roper on the morrow, desired him to tell More, that his 
 name was erased irom the bill. \\ hen the knight heard 
 this from ISlrs. Roper, in faith Megg, he said, quod differtur 
 non aufertur.^ 
 
 The confidence which Henry's ministers expressed of 
 finding meet matter to serve their master's turn, as well as 
 More's last-mentioned prediction, proved but too correct. 
 AYhen the nun of Kent afforded not a substantial ground 
 
 • Roper.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 167 
 
 for his persecution, other subjects were not wanting which 
 soon led to the tragedy of his cruel death. 
 
 In this year were passed, 
 
 I. The important law Avhich regvilated the succession to 
 the crown ; * by Avhich the marriage of Henry with Ca- 
 tharine was declared void ; the sentence annulling the mar- 
 riage, which Cranmer, now primate, had passed, was ra- 
 tified ; and the king's marriage with Ann was confirmed. 
 The crown was appointed to descend to the issue of this 
 marriage, and failing such, to the king's heirs for ever. An 
 oath was moreover required in favour of this succession, 
 under penalty of imprisonment during the king's pleasure, 
 and of forfeiture of goods and chattels. 
 
 II. The parliament conferred on Henry the title of the 
 only supreme head on earth of the church of England .-j- 
 By Avhich, exclaimed the Romish party, the king and those 
 he commissioned were made sole judges in matters of faith, 
 and all ecclesiastical discipline was entrusted to them ; the 
 commission which our Saviour had granted his apostles and 
 their successors was set aside by a human law, and the au- 
 thority they derived from heaven transferred to the state ; 
 the care of souls was made to devolve on the civil power, 
 and the being of Christianity to depend on the will of the 
 magistrate. 
 
 • 25 Hen. VIII. 22. f 26 Hen. VIII. c. l.
 
 168 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 III. An act was passed,* by uhich it was iiuidc high 
 treason for any person to maliciously wish, will, or desire, 
 by words or writing, to deprive the king's most royal per- 
 son, the queen, or their heirs apparent, or any of them, 
 of the dignity, title or name of their royal estates. 
 
 Soon after the second of these acts, a Latin bible was 
 published, and in his majesty's general preface he thus 
 triumphed in his new title. 
 
 ' Nos itaquc considerantes id erga Deum otVicii nostri, 
 quo suscepisse cognoscimur, ut in regno simus sicut anima 
 in corpore ct sol in mundo, utque loco Dei judicium exer- 
 ceamus in regno nostro, et omnia in potestate habcntes, 
 quoad jurisdictionem, ipsam etiam ecclesiam vice Dei sedulo 
 regamus ac tueamur, et disciplinae ejus, sive augeatur aut 
 soh atur, nos ci rationem reddituri simus qui nobis earn cre- 
 didit, ct in eo Dei vicem agentes Deique habcntes imaginem ; 
 quid aliud vel cogitare vel in animam inducere potuimus, 
 quam ut eodem confugeremus, ubi certo discendum esset, 
 ne (juid aliud vel ipsi faccremus, vel faciendum aliis prae- 
 scriberemus, quam quod ab hac ipsa Dei lege ne vel trans- 
 versum quidem digitum aberrare convinci queat.' 
 
 We have also another instance of Henry's triumph, in 
 what Mr. Evelyn justly calls his remarkable medalion ; the 
 legend of which, in Latin, Hebrew, and Greek, provoked 
 the remark, that Henry crucified the church as Pilate had 
 
 * Ibid. c. 13.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 169 
 
 done her Saviour, with the solemnity of three inscriptions. 
 A representation of this medal may be seen in Mr. Eve- 
 lyn's Numismata. 
 
 The Romish party in those days it seems understood by 
 head of the church, chief spiritual shepherd, as if the king 
 had power to administer sacraments, ordain priests, &c. ; 
 for all which they considered a layman as unqualified. But 
 their adversaries contended that the term was only intend- 
 ed to declare the prince superior to the prelates who ex- 
 empted themselves from his authority by their immunities, 
 as well as superior to the laity ; and that he was not sub- 
 ject to the pope, who claimed jurisdiction over all princes 
 and countries. The king, said the latter, did not by this 
 title challenge power to debate, or determine any point of 
 faith or matter of religion, much less to be supreme judge 
 or governor of all doctrine and discipline. But would the 
 subject in his realm have the assistance of the magistrate, 
 to establish truth and prohibit error, and by wholesome 
 punishments to prevent disorder, that authority laid neither 
 in prelate nor in pope, but in the prince ; and in his domi- 
 nions neither doctrine nor discipline could be estabhshed by 
 public law, but by his consent. 
 
 The oath of succession was generall}' taken, and bishop 
 Fisher and More were the only persons of note who enter- 
 tained scruples as to its legality. More's high reputation 
 for virtue and integrity made it supposed that his authority 
 would influence others, and great pains were taken to con- 
 
 VOL. I. Z
 
 170 ME>[OIRS OF 
 
 vince him on tliis point. But the kniglit was immoveable, 
 probably because the preamble of the oath implietl, that 
 the marriage with Catharine was unlawi'ul ; and whatever 
 we think of his persuasion on this head, the integrity of his 
 conscience we must admire. 
 
 Mr. Roper relates that the duke of Norfolk said one day 
 to More, — ' b}' the mass Mr. More, it is perilous striving 
 Avith princes ; therefore I would wish j'ou somewhat to in- 
 cline to the king's pleasure, for, by God's body! Mr. More, 
 indignaiio principis ?nors est.' ' Is that all my lord ?" re- 
 plied i\Iore ; ' then in good faith the difference between 
 your grace and me is but this ; that I shall die to-day and 
 you to-morrow.' 
 
 About a month after the law for the oath was passed, 
 certain clergy of London and ^Westminster, and More, were 
 cited to appear at Lambeth before Cranmer, Audley, and 
 CroniAvell, who were appointed to tender tlie oath unto 
 them. More, as was his custom on important occasions, 
 Avent to mass that morning ; a7id zchereas, continues Mr. 
 Roper, he evermore used before, at his departure from his 
 wife and children, whom he tenderly loved, to have them bring 
 him to his boat and there to kiss them and bid them all fare- 
 well, then woidd he suffer none of them forth the gate to fol- 
 low him, but pulled the wicket after him and shut them all 
 from him. His countenance, adds Mr. Roper, who accom- 
 panied him in the boat to Lambeth, bespoke a heavy heart ;
 
 SIR T. MORE. 17i 
 
 and sitting still sadly azvbile, at last he suddenly whispered 
 to him, son Roper, I thank our Lord ! the field is won. 
 
 As his mind appears to have predicted, More was not 
 permitted to return home from this summons ; and he wrote 
 his favourite daughter an account of the proceedings at 
 Lambeth, whicli here followeth. 
 
 Sir Thomas More to Mrs. Margaret Roper. 
 
 ' When I was before the Lords at Lambeth, I was the 
 first who was called in ; albeit that ]\Ir. Dr. the vicar of 
 Croydon was come before mc, and divers others. After the 
 cause of my sending-for declared unto me, whereof I some- 
 Avhat marvelled in my mind, considering that they sent for 
 no more temporal men but me, I desired the sight of the 
 oath ; which they shewed me under the great seal. Then 
 desired I the sight of the act of the succession ; which was 
 delivered me in a printed roll. 
 
 ' After which read secretly by myself, and the oath con- 
 sidered with the act, I shewed unto them, that my purpose 
 was not to put any fault either in the act or any man who 
 made it, or in the oath or any man who sware it, nor to 
 condemn the conscience of any other man ; but as for my- 
 self, in good faith my conscience so moved me in the mat- 
 ter, that though I would not deny to swear to the succes- 
 sion, yet unto that oath which there was offered mc I could 
 not swear, Avithout the jeoparding of my soul to perpetual 
 
 Z C
 
 172 .AIEMOIRS OF 
 
 damnation. And that if they doubted, whether I did re- 
 fuse the oath only for the grudge of my conscience, or for 
 any other fantasy, I was ready therein to satisf)- them by 
 mine oath : Which if they trusted not, what should they 
 be the better to give mc any oath ? And if they trusted 
 that I would therein swear true, then trusted I, that of their 
 goodness they would not move me to swear the oath which 
 they offered me, perceiving that for to swear it was against 
 my conscience. 
 
 * Unto this my lord chancellor said, that they all were 
 very sorry to hear me say thus, and see me thus refuse the 
 oath. And they said all, that on their faith I was the very 
 first Avho ever refused it ; which would cause the king's 
 highness to conceive great suspicion of me, and great indig- 
 nation toward me. And therewith they shewed me the roll, 
 and let me see the names of the lords and the commons, 
 who had sworn and subscribed their names already. AVhich, 
 notwithstanding, when they saw that I refused to swear the 
 same myself, not blaming an}' other man who bad sworn, 
 I was in conclusion commanded to go down into the gar- 
 den. 
 
 ' And thereupon I tarried in the old burned chamber 
 which looketh into the garden, and would not go down be- 
 cause of the heat. In that time saw I INIr. Dr. Latimer 
 come into the garden, and there walked he with divers 
 other doctors and chaplains of my lord of Canterbury. 
 And very merry I saw him ; for he laughed, and took one
 
 SIR T. MORE. 173 
 
 or twain about the neck so handsomely, that if they had 
 been women I would have weened he had been waxen 
 wanton. After that came Mr. Dr. Wilson forth from the 
 lords, and was with two gentlemen brought by me, and 
 gentlemanly sent straight unto the Tower. AVhat time my 
 lord of Rochester was calicd-in before them, that can I 
 not tell. But at nio-ht I heard that he had been before 
 them ; but where he remained that night, and so forth till 
 he was sent hither, I never heard. I heard also that Mr. 
 vicar of Croydon, and. all the remnant of the priests of 
 London who were sent for, Avere sworn. And that they 
 had such favour at the council's hand, that they were not 
 lingered, nor made to dance any long attendance to their 
 travail and cost, as suitors are sometimes wont to be, but 
 were sped apace to their great comfort. So far forth, that 
 Mr. vicar of Croydon, either for gladness or tor dryness, 
 or else that it might be seen quod ille notus erat pontijici, 
 went to my lord's butter3'-bar and called for drink, and 
 drank vakle fomiltariter. 
 
 * When they had played their pageant and were gone 
 out of the place, then was I called-in again. And then 
 Avas it declared unto me, what a number had sworn even 
 since I went aside, gladly, without any sticking. Wherein 
 I laid no blame in no man ; but for mine own self, answer^ - 
 ed as before. 
 
 ' Now as well before as then, they somewhat laid unto 
 me for obstinacy ; that whereas before, since I refused to
 
 174 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 swear, I would not declare any special part of that oath 
 vhicli grudged my conscience, and open the cause where- 
 fore. Tor thereunto I had said unto them, that I leared 
 lest the king's highness would, as they said, take disj)lca- 
 sure enough toward me for the only refusal of the oath. 
 And tiiat if 1 should open and disclose the causes wlvj, I 
 should therewith but farther exasperate his highness. Which 
 I would in nowise do ; but rather would I abide all the 
 danger and harm which might come toward me, than give 
 his highness any occasion of farther displeasure, than the 
 offering of the oath unto me, of pure necessity constrained 
 me. liowbeit when they divers times imputed this to me 
 for stubbornness and obstinacy, that I would neither swear 
 the oath nor yet declare the causes why, I declined thus far 
 toward them, that rather than I avouUI be accounted for ob- 
 stinate, I would ui)on the king's gracious licence, or rather 
 his such commandnient had, as might be my sufficient war- 
 rant that my declaration should not oflend his highness nor 
 put me in the danger of any of his statutes, I would be 
 content to declare the causes in writing. And over that, to 
 give an oath in the beginning, that if I might find those 
 causes by any man in suchwise answered, as 1 might think 
 mine own conscience satisfied, I would after that, with all 
 mine heart, swear the principal oath too. 
 
 ' To this I was answered, that though the king would give 
 me licence under his letters patent, yet would it not serve 
 against the statute. Whereto I said, that yet if I had them, 
 I would stand unto the trust of liis honour, at my peril for
 
 SIR T. MORE. 175 
 
 the remnant. But yet thinketh me lo ! that if I may not 
 declare the causes without peril, then to leave them unde- 
 clared is no ohstinacy. 
 
 ' My lord of Canterbury, taking hold upon that that I 
 said, that I condeynned not the consciences of them who swear, 
 said unto me, that it appeared ^ve\\ that I did not take it 
 for a very sure thing and a certain, that I might not law- 
 fully swear it ; but rather as a thing uncertain and doubt- 
 ful. Hut then,' said my lord, ' you knoxv for a certainty, 
 and a thing zvithout doubt, that you he hounden to obey your 
 sovereign lord your king. And therefore are you hounden to 
 leave-of the doubt of your unsure conscience in refusing the 
 oath, and take the sure zeay in obeying of your prince, and 
 swear it. 
 
 ' Now all was it so that in mine own mind mcthought 
 myself not concluded, yet this argument seemed me sud- 
 denly so subtle, and namely, with such authority coming 
 out of so noble a prelate's mouth, that I could again an- 
 swer nothing thereto, but onl}^ that I thought myself I 
 might not well do so ; because that in my conscience this 
 was one of the cases, in which I was bounden that I should 
 not obey my prince. Since that whatsoever other folk 
 thought in the matter, Avhose conscience or learning I would 
 not condemn nor take upon me to judge, yet in my con- 
 science the truth seemed on the other side. Wherein I had 
 not informed my conscience neither suddenly nor slightly, 
 but by long leisure and diligent search for the matter^
 
 176 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 And of trutli if that reason may concliule, then have we a 
 ready way to avoid all perplexities. For in whatsoever mat- 
 ter the doetors stand in great doubt, the king's command- 
 ment, given upon whether side he list, solvcth all the 
 doubts. 
 
 ' Then said my lord of Westminster to me, that howsoever 
 the matter seemed unto mine own mind, I had cause to fear 
 that mine OAvn mind was erroneous, when I see the great 
 council of the realm determine of my mind the contrary ; 
 and that therefore I ought to change my conscience. To 
 that I answered, that if there were no more but myself up- 
 on my side, and the whole parliament upon the other, I 
 would be sore afraid to lean to mine own mind only, against 
 so many. But on the other side, if it so be that in some 
 things for which I refuse the oath, I have, as I think I have, 
 upon my part as great a council and a greater too, I am 
 not then bounden to change my conscience, and conform 
 .it to the council of one realm against the general council of 
 Christendom. 
 
 * Upon this j\Ir. Secretary, as he who tenderly favoureth 
 me, said and swear a great oath, that he had leaver that his 
 own only son (who is of truth a goodly young gentleman, 
 and shall, I trust, come to nmch worship) had lost his 
 head, than that 1 should thus have refused the oath. For 
 surely the king's highness would now conceive a great sus- 
 picion against me, and think that the matter of the nun of 
 Canterbury was all contiived by my drift. To which I said,
 
 SIR T. MORE. 177 
 
 that the contrary was true and well known; and whatsoever 
 should mishap nie, it lay not in my power to help it, with- 
 out the peril of my soul. 
 
 ' Then did my lord chancellor repeat before me my re- 
 fusal unto Mr. Secretary, as to him who was going unto 
 the king's grace. And in the rehearsing, his lordship re- 
 peated again, that I denied not, but was content to swear 
 unto, the succession. Whereunto I said, that as for that 
 point, / would be content, so that I might see my oath in 
 that point so framed, in such a manner as mi;^ht stand 
 with my conscience. I'hen said ni}' lord, mary Mr. Secre- 
 tary mark that too, that lie will not sxaear that neither 
 but under some certain manner. Verily no my lord, quoth I; 
 hut that I will see it made in suchzeise first, as I shall myself 
 see that 1 shall 7ieither be forstcorne, nor swear against my 
 conscience. 
 
 ' Surely as to swear to the succession, I see no peril. 
 But I thought, and think it reason, that to mine own oath 
 I look well myself and be of counsel also in the fashion ; 
 and never intended to swear for a piece, and set my hand 
 to the whole oath. IJowbeit, as help me God ! as touch- 
 ing the whole oatli, I never withdrew any man from it ; nor 
 never advised any to refuse it ; nor never put, nor will put, 
 any scruple in any man's head ; but leave every man to his 
 own conscience. And methinketh in good faith, that so 
 were it good reason, that every man should leave me to mine.'* 
 
 * English works. 
 
 Vol. I. A a
 
 F7b MEMOIllS OF 
 
 ^Vc scarcely know whetlicr to be most surprised, that 
 such an argument of mere sound as wc have heard should 
 liave proceeded from Cranmer, should for a moment have 
 influenced More, or should have had any weight with Bur- 
 net. Every man, saith S'. Paul, should be fully persuaded 
 in his own mind, — and though nothing be unclean of itself 
 yet to him zoho esteemeth anything unclean, to him it is un" 
 clean ; a)id he who doubtcth is damned if he eat. Thus, 
 though obedience to the king and the laws Avas a thins: 
 right in itself, and the duty of eveiy subject ; yet if it ap- 
 jieared to More that the oath Avas contrary to the laAV of 
 God (to which another laAV had restrained the power of the 
 legislature), he was so far from being obliged in conscience 
 to take this oath, that he Avould have violated his conscience 
 and been self-condemned had he taken it. Others who saw 
 nothing in the oath Avhich they thought contrary to the law 
 of God, Avere not blamed by ISIore, it is true, for taking it, 
 for they had only done their duty ; but Cranmer's conclu- 
 sion, that More Avas only doubtful in this matter, by no 
 means folloAved. He Avas, on the contrary, well persuaded, 
 Ihat it Avould be sinful in him to take the oath, Avho thought 
 it contrary to the laAv of God.* 
 
 On tlie abbot of "Westminster's reasonino- there needeth 
 no other reflection than Burnet hath made, — it Avas very 
 fit for so lich an abbot, and discovered the temper of his 
 oAvn conscience. 
 
 •■ Srt Warner.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 179 
 
 For four days, More was committed to the custody of 
 this abbot ; during which time, saith Mr. Roper, the king 
 consulted with his council what order were meet to be taken 
 with him. Cranmer, foreseeing the ill effect of contending 
 with persons so highly esteemed over the world as More 
 and Fisher, and who were of such a temper that severity 
 would have no influence with them, wrote a curious letter 
 to Cromwell on the occasion, which is preserved in the 
 Cotton library, and places More's estimation in too strong 
 a light, not to demand a place in the present work. 
 
 Archbishop Cramner to Secretary Cromwell. 
 
 Right Worshipful Mr. Cromwell, 
 
 After most hearty commendations, &c. ; I doubt not but 
 you do right well remember, that my lord of Rochester and 
 Mr. More were contented to be sworn to the act of the 
 king's succession, but not to the preamble of the same. 
 What was the cause of their refusal thereof I am uncertain, 
 and they Avould by no means express the same. Neverthe- 
 less it must needs be, either the diminution of the autho- 
 rity of the bishop of Rome, or else the reprobation of the 
 king's first pretenced matrimony. 
 
 But if they do obstinately persist in their opinions of 
 the preamble, yet meseemeth it should not be refused, if 
 they will be sworn to the very act of succession, so that 
 they will be sworn to maintain the same against all powers 
 
 A a 2
 
 180 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 and potentates. For hereby shall be a great occasion to 
 satisfy the princess dowager, and the lady Mary, who do 
 think that they should damn their souls if they should 
 abandon and relinquish their estates. And not only it 
 should stop the mouths of them, but also of the emperor, 
 and other their friends, if they give as much credence to 
 my lord of Rochester and ISIr. More speaking or doing 
 against them, as they hitherto have done and thought that 
 all others should have done when they spake and did with 
 them. And peradventure it should be a good quietation to 
 man}' others within this realm, if such men should say, 
 that the succession comprised within the said act is good 
 and according to God's laws. For then I think there is 
 not one within this realm who would once reclahn against 
 it. 
 
 And whereas divers persons, either of a wilfulness will 
 not, or of an indurate and invertible conscience cannot, 
 alter from their opinions of the king's fnst pretenced mar- 
 riage (wherein they have once said their minds, and per- 
 ease have a persuasion in their lieads, that if they should 
 now vary therefrom, their fame and estimation were dis- 
 tained for ever), or else of the authority of the bishop of 
 Rome ; yet if all the realm with one accord would appre- 
 hend the said succession, in my judgment it is a thing to 
 be amplccted and embraced. Which thing, although I 
 trust surely in God that it shall be brought to pass, yet 
 hereunto miaht not a little avail the consent and oaths of 
 these two persons, the bishop of Rochester and Mr. j\Iore,
 
 SIR T. MORE. 181 
 
 with their adherents or rather confederates. And if the 
 king's pleasure so were, their said oaths might be suppress- 
 ed, but when and Avhere his highness might take some com- 
 modity by the pubUshing of the same. Thus our Lord have 
 you ever in his conservation. From my manor at Cro^'don, 
 the 17'* day of April, 
 
 Your own assured ever, 
 
 THOMAS CAXTUAR. 
 
 But this wise advice was not taken. The king (exasper- 
 ated by queen Ann, if Ave may credit Mr. Roper), was 
 much irritated against them, and resolved to proceed Mith 
 them according to law. They were both indicted on the 
 statute and committed prisoners to the Tower. It being- 
 apprehended that if they were allowed the use of pen and 
 paper they would write against the marriage or supremacy, 
 these were after a certain time denied them. AVhen the. 
 king sent a general pardon, More and Fisher were not only 
 excluded by general clauses, but by two particular acts 
 they were attainted of misprision of treason. More in .par- 
 ticular, was, by an invidious preamble, charged with in- 
 gratitude, for the great favours he had received from the 
 kin2:? and for stud vino- to sow sedition among the kino's 
 subjects, and refusing to take the oath of succession ; the 
 king's grants to him were therefore declared void, and ho 
 was attainted as already related.* 
 
 • Roper and Burnet.
 
 192 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Severe and revengeful as was this treatment, some thought 
 it necessary in so important a crisis ; lest indulgence to him 
 who had enjojed so great authority, might encourage others 
 to revolt and be corrupted in their affection to the king. 
 IMore was certainly not wanting in loyalty, and was willing 
 to take the oath of succession however he disapproved the 
 second marriage. His treason consisted in a point of con- 
 science, and if the severity shewn him was not unjust, it 
 was probably impolitic. If his reputation was high before, 
 his present persecution for a mere opinion, and an opinion 
 which the king and his suljjects had so lately favoured, was 
 likely only to raise it higher. 
 
 "VVe have in his English works another letter from More 
 to Cromwell, written probably while he was in the custody 
 of the abbot of ^^'estminste^, from which we will extract 
 what he writes concerning the king's marriage and the pope's 
 primac}', and therewith conclude the present chapter. 
 
 ' Upon a time at my coming from be3'ond the sea, where 
 I had been on the king's business, I repaired, as my duty 
 was, unto the king's grace, being at that time at Hampton- 
 court. At which time, suddenly his liighness, walking in 
 the gallcr}', brake with me of his great matter ; and shew- 
 ed me, that it was now perceived, that his marriage was 
 not only against the positive laws of the church and the 
 Avrittcn law of God, but also, in suchwise against the law 
 of nature, that it could in nowise by the church be dispens-
 
 sill T. MOKE. 1S3 
 
 able. Now so was it, before my going over the sea I had 
 heard certain things moved against the bull of the dispensa- 
 tion, concerning the words iii the law Levitical and the law 
 Deutronomical, to prove the prohibition to be dejure div'mo. 
 But yet perceived I not at that time, but that the greater 
 hope of the matter stood, in certain faults which were 
 found in the bull ; whereby tlie bull should by the law 
 not be sutficient. And such comfort was there in that point 
 (as far as I perceived), a good season, that the counsel on 
 the other part were fain to bring-forth a brief, by which 
 they pretended those defaults to be supplied. The truth of 
 ■which brief was by the king's counsel suspected, and much 
 diligence was thereafter done for the trial of that point. 
 Wheiein what was finally found, either 1 never knew, or 
 else I not remember. 
 
 ' But I rehearse you this to the intent you shall know, 
 that the first time that ever I heard that point moved, that- 
 it should be in such high degree against the law of nature, 
 was the time in which, as 1 began tell you, the king's grace 
 shewed it me himself, and laid the Bible open before me ; 
 and there read me the words which moved his highness and 
 divers other erudite pei'sons so to think, and asked me far- 
 ther what myself thought thereon. At which time, not pre- 
 suming to look that his highness should any thing take that 
 point for the more proved or improved for my poor mind 
 in so great a matter, I shewed nevertheless, as my duty 
 was at his commandment, what thing I thought upon the 
 words which I there read. AVhereupon liis highness, ac-
 
 184 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ccpting benignly my sudden unadvised answer, command- 
 ed me to comnmnc' farther witli Mr. J'ox, now his grace's 
 ahnoner, and to read with him a book which then was in 
 making for that matter. 
 
 ' After which book read, and my poor opinion eftsoons 
 tleclared unto his highness tliereupon, his highness, hkc a 
 prudent and a virtuous prince, assembled at another time 
 at Hampton-court a good number of very v^^ell-learned men. 
 At which time, as far as ever 1 iieard, there were, as was 
 in so great a matter most likely to be, divers opinions among 
 them. IJowbeit, 1 never heard but that they agreed at that 
 time upon a certain form, in which the book should be 
 made ; which was afterward, at York-place in my lord 
 cardinal's chamber read, in the presence of divers bishops 
 and many learned men. And they all thought, that there 
 ajjpearcd in the book good and reasonable causes, which 
 might well move the king's highness, being so virtuous a 
 prince, to conceive in his mind a scruple against his mar- 
 riage. A\ Inch, while he could not otherwise avoid, he did 
 well and virtuously, for the acquieting of his conscience, to 
 sue ; and procure to have his doubt decided by judgment 
 of the church. 
 
 ' After this the suit began, and the legates sat upon the 
 matter. During all which time, I never meddled there, nor 
 was a man meet to do ; for the matter was in hand by an 
 ordinary process of the spiritual law, whereof I could little 
 skill. And. yet while the legates were sitting upon the
 
 SIR T. MORE. • 185 
 
 matter, it pleased the king's highness, to send me, in the 
 company of my lord of London, noAv of Durham, in em- 
 bassy, about the peace which, at our being there, Avas con- 
 cluded at Cambra}^ between his highness and the emperor 
 and the French king. And after my coming home, his high- 
 ness, of his only goodness, as far unworthy as I was there- 
 to, made me, as you well know, his chancellor of this realm. 
 Soon after which time, his grace moved me again, yet eft- 
 soons to look and consider his great matter ; and Avell and 
 indifferently to ponder such things as I should find therein. 
 And if it so were, that thereupon it should hap me, to see 
 such things as should persuade me to that part, he would 
 gladly use me among other of his counsellors in the matter. 
 And nevertheless he graciously declared unto me, that he 
 would in nowise that I should other thing do or say therein, 
 than upon that that I should perceive mine own conscience 
 should serve me ; and that I should first look unto God. 
 and after God unto him ; which most gi-acious words, was 
 the first lesson also that ever his grace gave me, at my first 
 coming into his noble service. 
 
 ' This motion was to me very comfortable ; and much I 
 longed, beside anything that myself either had seen, or by 
 farther search should hap to find for the one part or the 
 other, yet specially to have some conference in the matter 
 with some such of his grace's learned council, as most for 
 his part had laboured and most had found in the matter. 
 Whereupon his highness assigned unto me the noAV most 
 reverend fathers, archbishops of Canterbury and York, with . 
 
 Vol. I. B b
 
 ISG 5IEM0IRS OF 
 
 Mr. Dr. Fox now his grace's almoner, and Mr. Dr. Nicholas 
 the Italian friar. Whereupon 1 not only sought and read, 
 and, as far forth as my poor wit and learning served me, 
 well weighed and considered, every such thing as I could 
 find myself, or read in any other man's labour which 1 could 
 get who anvthino; had written thereon, but had also diligent 
 conference with his grace's counsellors aforesaid. \\ hose 
 honours and worships I nothing mistrust in this point, but 
 that they both have and will report unto his highness, that 
 they never found obstinate manner or fashion in me ; but a 
 mind as toward and as conformable, as reason could in a 
 matter disputable require. 
 
 * "Whereupon, the king's highness being farther advertised, 
 both by them and by myself, of my poor opinion in the 
 matter, — wherein, to have been able or meet to do him 
 service, I would, as I then shewed his highness, have been 
 more glad than of all such worldly commodities as I either 
 then had or ever should come to — — his highness, graci- 
 ously taking agreeabl}^ my good mind in that behalf, used, 
 of his blessed disposition, in the prosecuting of his great mat- 
 ter, only those (of whom his grace had good numbei-), whose 
 conscience his grace perceived well and fully persuaded up- 
 on that part. And as well me, as any other to whom his 
 highness thought the thing to seem otherwise, he used in 
 his other business. Abiding, of his abundant goodness, 
 nevertheless gracious lord unto every man ; nor never was 
 willing to put any man in rufHc, or trouble of liis con- 
 science.
 
 SIR T. MOIIE. 187 
 
 ' After this did I never nothino- more therein. Nor never 
 any word wrote 1 tlierein to the impairing of his grace's part, 
 neither before nor after. Ijiit setthng ni}' mind in quiet to 
 serve his grace in other things, I would not so much as look 
 nor let lie by me any book of the other part, albeit that 1 
 gladly read afterward divers books ^vhich were made on his 
 part. Nor never would I read the book which Mr. Abel 
 made on the other side, nor other books which were as I 
 heard say made in Latin beyond the sea, nor never gave ear 
 to the pope's proceeding in the matter. Moreover, where I 
 had found in my study a book which I h id before borrowed 
 of my lord of Bath (uhich book he had made of the matter, 
 at such tinie as the legates sat here thereupon) which book 
 had been by me negligently cast aside ; and that I shcAved 
 him, I would send him home his book again ; he told me, 
 that in good fiiith he had long time before discharged his 
 mind of that matter, and, having forgotten that copy to 
 remain in my hand, had burned his own copy which he 
 had thereof at home. And because he no more minded to 
 me<ldle anything in the matter, he desired me to burn the 
 sarhe book too ; and, upon my faith, so did I ! 
 
 ' Beside this, divers other ways have I so used myself* 
 that if I rehearsed them all it should well appear, that I 
 never have had against his grace's marriage any manner of 
 demeanour, whereby his highness might have any manner 
 of cause or occasion of displeasure toward me. For, like- 
 wise as 1 am not he who either can, or whom it could be- 
 come to take upon nie the determination or decision of 
 
 Bb2
 
 18S MEMOIRS OF 
 
 sucli a weighty matter (whereof divers points a grerft way 
 pass my learning) ; so am I lie who, among other his grace's 
 tUithful sul^jeets, his highness being in possession of liis 
 marriage, will most heartily j)ray for that prosperous estate 
 of his grace long to continue, to the pleasure of God. 
 
 ♦ As touching the third point, the primacy of the pope, 
 1 nothinti meddle in that mailer. Truth it is, that, as I 
 told you Avhen you desired me to shew you what I thought 
 therein, I was myself sometime not of the mind, that the 
 primacy of that see should be begun b\' the institution of 
 God ; until that I read in that matter those things which 
 the king's highness had written, in his most famous book 
 against the heresies of Martin Luther. 
 
 ' At tlie first reading whereof, I moved the king's high- 
 ness, either to leave-out that point, or else to touch it more 
 slenderly ; for doubt of such things as after might hap to 
 fall in (juestion, between his highness and some pope, as 
 between princes and popes divers times have done. ^\ here- 
 unto his highness answered me, Ihat he zcould in nowise any- 
 ihivg minish of that matter ; of which thing, his highness 
 shewed me a secret cause, whereof I never had anything 
 lieard before. But surely, after that I had read his grace's 
 book thereon, and so many other things as I have seen on 
 that point by this continuance of these seven years since 
 and more, 1 have found in effect, the substance of all the 
 holy doctors, from S'. Ignatius, disciple of S'. John the 
 Evangelist, unto our own days, both Latins and Greeks,
 
 SIR T. MORE. 189 
 
 so consonant and agreeing in that point, and the thing by 
 such general councils so confirmed also, that in good faith 
 I never neither read nor heard anything of such effect on 
 the other side, which ever could lead me to think that my 
 conscience were well discharged, but rather iii right great 
 peril, if I should follow the other side and deny the primacy 
 to be provided by God. 
 
 * Which if we did, yet can I nothing, as I shewed you, 
 perceive any commodity which ever could come by that 
 denial ; for that the primacy is at the leastwise instituted by 
 the corps of Christendom, and for a great, urgent cause, in 
 avoiding of schisms ; and corroborated by continual succes- 
 sion, more than the space of a thousand j'cars at the least; 
 for there are passed almost a thousand years since the time 
 of holy S', Gregory, And therefore, since all Christendom is 
 one corps, I cannot perceive how any member thereof may, 
 without the common assent of the body, depart from the 
 common head. And then, if we may not lawfully leave it 
 by ourselves, I cannot perceive but, if the thing were a 
 treating in a general council, what the question could avail, 
 whether the primacy were instituted immediately by God 
 or ordained by the church. 
 
 * As for the general councils assembled lawfully, I never 
 could perceive but that, in the declaration of the truth, it 
 is to be believed and to be standen-to. The authority 
 whereof ought to be taken for undoubtable. Or else, were 
 there in nothing no certainty but, through Christendom, up-
 
 90 , MEMOIRS OF 
 
 on every man's art'ectionate reason, all things might be brought 
 liom day to day into continual ruflle and confusion, i'roni 
 A\ hich, by the general councils, the spirit of God, assisting 
 every such council well assembled, keepeth, and ever shall 
 keep, the corps of his catholic church. And verily, since 
 the king's highness hath, as by the book of his honourable 
 council appeareth, appealed to the general council from the 
 jiope (in which council I beseech our Lord send his grace 
 comfortable speed!), methinketh in my poor mind, it could 
 be no fartherance there unto his grace's cause, if his high- 
 ness should in his own realm before, either by laws making 
 or books putting-forth, seem to derogate and deny not on- 
 ly the primacy of the see apostolic, but also the authority 
 of the general councils too. Which I verily trust his high-* 
 ness intcMidcth not ; for, in the next general council, it may 
 well happen, that this pope may be deposed, and another 
 substituted in his room, with Avliom the king's highness may 
 be very well content. 
 
 * For, albeit that I have for mine own part such opinion 
 of the pope's primacy as I have shewed you, yet never 
 thought I the pope above the general council ; nor never 
 have, in any book of mine, put-iorth among the king's 
 subjects in our vulgar tongue, advanced greatly the pope's 
 authority. For, albeit that a man may peradventure find 
 therein, that, after the common manner of all christian 
 realms, I speak of him as j)rimate ; yet never do 1 stick 
 thereon, with reasoning and proving of that point. And 
 in my book against the jNlasker, 1 wrote not 1 wot-Aveil live
 
 SIR T. MORE. 191 
 
 times, and yet of no more but only S'- Peter himself; from 
 whose person many take not the primacy, even of those 
 who grant it none of his successors. And yet was that 
 book made, printed, and put-forth of very truth, before 
 that any of the books of the council were either printed or 
 spoken-of. But, whereas I had written thereof at length 
 in my Confutation before, and for the proof thereof had 
 compiled together all that I could find therefore, at such 
 time as I little looked that there should fall Ijetween the 
 king's highness and the pope such a breach as is fallen 
 since ; when I after that saw the thing likely to draw to- 
 ward such displeasure between them, I suppressed it utter- 
 ly, and never put Avord thereof into my book, but put-out 
 the remnant without it. Which thing well declareth, that 
 I never intended anything to meddle in that matter against 
 the king's gracious pleasure, Avhatsoever mine own opinion 
 were therein. 
 
 ' And thus have I, good Mr. Cromwell, long troubled 
 your mistership Avith a long process of these matters ; Avith 
 Avhich I neither durst, nor it could become me, to encum- 
 ber the king's noble grace. But I beseech you, for our 
 Lord's love, that you be not so Aveary of my most cumbrous 
 suit, but that it may like you, at such opportune time or 
 times as your Avisdom may find, to help that his highness 
 may, by your goodness, be fully informed of my true, faith- 
 ful mind. That he may the rather, by the means of your 
 Avisdom and dexterity, consider, that in the matter of the 
 nun, there Avas never on my part any other mind than
 
 1P2 ME^!OIRS OP 
 
 good. Nor yet in any other thing else, never was there 
 nor never shall there be, any farther fault found in me, 
 than that I cannot in every thing think the same way that 
 some other men, of more wisdom and deeper learning, do; 
 nor can find in mine heart otherwise to say, than as mine 
 own conscience giveth me. ^Vhich condition hath never 
 groAvn, in any thing which ever might touch his gracious 
 pleasure, of any obstinate mind or mis-affectionate appetite, 
 but of a timorous conscience ; rising haply for lack of bet- 
 ter perceiving, and yet not without tender respect unto my 
 most bounden duty toward his noble grace. Whose only 
 favour I so much esteem, that I nothing have of mine own 
 in all this world, except only my soul, but that I will with 
 better will forego it, than abide of his highness one heavy, 
 displeasant look.' 
 
 *
 
 Sm T. MORE. 193 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Henry Fill and Constantius. . . . More' s Jirmness. . . . Anecdotes. . . 7 
 Mrs. Roper visiteth him. . . . His pains to meet his fate in a becoming 
 manner. , . . His reflection on the execution of Reynolds, &c. . . . His 
 verses on Cromwell's promise. . . . Lady More visiteth him, and some 
 of the privy-council. , . . His two letters to his daughter. . . . His 
 hooks taken from him. . . . Rich's conversation with More. . . . More 
 arraigned, . . . The commissioners and jury. . . . More's answer to the 
 indictment. . . . His answer to Rich. . . . The jury find him guilty. . . . 
 His arguments as to the insufficiency of the indictment. . . . The cha7i- 
 cellor's anstoer, and More's reply. . , . Sentence passed upon him. . . . 
 Farther proceedings. . . . More's courage and constancy, . . . His meet- 
 ing with his children. . . . Anecdote. . . . His last letter to his daugh- 
 ter. . . . Sir Thomas Pope sent to him. . . . More's preparation for 
 death. . . , His last jokes, and execution. . . . His burial. 
 
 J. HE later times of Henry VIII have been well enough 
 compared to those of Constantius. Of this emperor x\m- 
 mianus Marcellinus observes, he was cruel toward all who 
 tmly or falsely were charged Avith treason. Any accusa- 
 tion, how slight soever, served to ruin a man ; and his sub- 
 jects were so far from daring to tell their dreams, lest they 
 Vol. I. C c
 
 191 IMOIOIRS OF 
 
 >iioul{l have o. treasonable interpretation put upon them, 
 that fliey dared not to oxen they ever slept. If we except 
 the history of Henry's own. family, perhaps no stronger 
 instance occurs in his reign of the justice of the compari- 
 son, than liis sacrifice of Sir Thomas More. 
 
 Neither irritated by persecution, nor dismayed in the 
 least degree by kingly power, in a mild though firm man- 
 ner, the knight maintained his resolution ; and the accus- 
 tomed facetionsness of his disposition forsook him not even 
 in his way to prison. 
 
 It was IMore's custom to wear a golden chain around 
 his neck, and he now had it on as usual. His conductor 
 to the Tower advised him to send this ornament home to 
 his wife, or to some of his children. Nay sir, replied More, 
 that will I not ; for if I were taken in the f eld by my ene- 
 mies, I would they should somewhat fare the better for me. 
 
 At tl^e Tower-gate, the porter demanded of More his 
 upper garment. The knight presented him his cap, and 
 was very sorry it was no better. "Wit was, however, not 
 current with Cerberus, who soon disrobed the knight of his 
 gown. 
 
 "When !More was conducted to his appartment by the 
 lieutenant of the Tower, he called his servant John Wood, 
 who was appointed to attend him, and who could neither 
 read nor write, and brought him to his oath before th«
 
 Sm T. MORE. 195 
 
 lieirtenant, that if he should witness that the knight spoke 
 or wrote against the king, the council or the state, he should 
 immediately declare it to the lieutenant, that it might be 
 communicated without delay to the council. 
 
 The lieutenant, adds ]\Ir. Roper, soon afterward acknow- 
 ledged his former obligations to More, and his wish now 
 to afford him good cheer ; but since by so doing he should 
 hazard the king's displeasure, he trusted More would ac- 
 cept his good will and such poor cheer as he dared to af- 
 ford him. ' Mr. Lieutenant,' replied More, ' I verily be- 
 lieve, as you may, so are you my good friend indeed, and 
 would, as you say, with your best cheer entertain me ; for 
 the which I most heartily thank you : And assure your- 
 self Mr. Lieutenant, I do not mislike my cheer ; but when- 
 soever I so do, then thrust me out of your doors.' 
 
 Such indeed was More's mind, that his punishments, as 
 they were called, only afforded him opportunities for the 
 display of that superior patience and constancv, which the 
 ordinary occurrences of life were hardly sufficient to aj)- 
 preciate. 
 
 ^Vhen he had been in the Tower about a month, Mrs. 
 Roper by earnest entreaty at length obtained permission to 
 visit her father. After some time spent with her in prayer, 
 according to his usual custom, ' I believe Meg (said More, 
 among other things), that the}' who have put me here ween 
 they have done me a high displeasure. But I assure thee 
 
 Cc 2
 
 ]9G MEMOIRS OF 
 
 on m}' faith mine own good daughter, if it had not been 
 for my a\ ifc and ye who be my children, I would not have 
 failed long ere this, to have closed myself in as straight a 
 room and straighter too. But, since I am come hither 
 without mine own desert, I trust that God of his goodness 
 will discharge me of my care, and with his gracious iielp 
 supply my lack among ye. I find no cause, I thank God i 
 INIeg, to reckon myself in worse case here than at home. 
 For methinketh, God maketh me a Avanton, and setteth 
 me on his lap and dandleth me.' * 
 
 In the course of his imprisonment, INIore seems never 
 for a moment to have lost sight of the end which it was 
 probable he should come to. He owns that he was of an 
 irritable habit by nature, and weak against bodily sufter- 
 ing. Yet the whole force of his mind appears to have been 
 exerted at this time, in preparation to meet his fate with 
 constancv and composure. He withdrew himself by de- 
 gi-ees from every Avorldly interest, and dwelt with daily in- 
 creasing delight on his hope of a better state. Tliough few 
 men have ever had more substantial ground for confidence 
 in iheir own merits, he looked forward to the great judg- 
 ment with trembling, but with every hope from his Maker's 
 mercy and the merits of Christ. We shall find that the 
 effects of his endeavours, even to human eyes, were won- 
 derful ; that no man ever overcame worldly suffering in the 
 end more completely, or met so severe a fate with less dread 
 of the stroke. 
 
 • Roper.
 
 SIR T. MORE. - 197 
 
 Looking out of his window in tiie Tower one da}' when 
 Reynolds, a father of Sion, and three monks, were leading 
 to execution, on the affair of the kind's marria2;e and su- 
 premacy, ' Lo dost thou not see ]\Ieg,' he exclaimed to 
 his daughter, ' that these blessed fathers be now as cheer- 
 fully going to their deaths as bridegrooms to their marriage. 
 Wherefore thereby mayst thou sec, mine own good daugh- 
 ter, what a great difference there is between such as have 
 in effect spent all their days in a straight, and penitential, 
 and painful life religiously, and such as have in the world, 
 like worldly wretches, as thy poor father hath done, con- 
 sumed all their time in pleasure and ease licentiously. For 
 God, considering their long-continued life in most sore and 
 grievous pennance, will no longer suffer them to remain 
 here in this vale of misery, but speedily hence taketh them 
 to the fruition of his everlasting deity. Whereas thy silly 
 father, Meg, who like a wicked caitiff hath passed forth 
 the whole course of his miserable life most sinfiilly, God, 
 thinking him not worthy so soon to come to that eternal > 
 felicity, leaveth him here yet still in this world, farther to 
 be plagued and turmoiled with misery/ * 
 
 Secretary Cromwell came to More one day in the Tower- 
 from the king, as Mr. Roper informs us, and pretending 
 great friendship for the knight, told him that his majesty 
 would be good and gracious to him, and not trouble his 
 conscience in future with any matter wherein he should 
 have cause for scruple. But More understood Henry and 
 
 * Roper i
 
 19S MEMOIRS OF 
 
 liis court too well, to fix the smallest reliance on such a pro- 
 mise ; and to prove what little credit he attached to it, he 
 wrote these verses so soon as Cromwell was gone, Avhich ard 
 ])reberved in his English woiks. 
 
 Ey fluttering Fortune, look tliou ne'er so fair 
 
 Or ne'er so pleasantly begin to smile, 
 As though thou wouldst my ruin all rep.tir ; 
 
 During my iifi'lliou sliult me not iK-guile. 
 
 Trust shall I Gocl, to enter in a while 
 "Ilis haven of heaven sure and uniform. 
 Ever, alter thy calm, look I for a storm. 
 
 Lady More at length procured permission to visit her 
 husband, and soon exclaimed in her usual worldly manner. 
 ' I marvel that you, Avho hitherto have been taken for a 
 wise man, Avill now so play the fool to lie here in this close 
 filthy prison, and be content tluis to be shut-up among 
 mice and rats ; when you might be abroad at your libert}', 
 and with the favour and good-will both of the king and his 
 council, if you would but do as all the bishops and best- 
 learned of this realm have done. And seeing you have at 
 Chelsea a right i'air house, your library, your galler}^ gar- 
 den, orchard, and all other necessaries so handsome about 
 you, where you might in the couipany of me your wife, 
 your children and household be merry, I muse what a God's 
 name you mean here still thus fondly to tuny.' More ask- 
 ed her if his present habitation was not as near heaven as 
 liis own iiouse ? And since, if he were buried seven years, 
 and then rose and came to his own house, he should not fail
 
 SIR T. MORE. 199 
 
 to find some therein who would bid him get out of doors 
 and tell him it was none of his, why he should love a house 
 which would so soon forget its master ? How long, he add- 
 ed, do yoii think we mai/ live to enjoy it ? Some twenty years, 
 she replied. If you had said some thousand, answered More, 
 it had been somezvhat ; and yet he were a very bad merchant 
 who would put himself in danger to lose eternity for a thou- 
 sand years. IIozo much the rather, if we be not sure to en- 
 joy it one day to an end ! * 
 
 It is possible that the good lad}^ may have been an in- 
 strument employed by the court, to endeavour at prevail- 
 ing on her husband to meet the wishes of the kino. At 
 least, no attempt appears to have been spared, toward the 
 completion of an object which was evidently deemed of 
 no small importance. For, not long after the meeting al- 
 ready described, the chancellor, the dukes of Norfolk and 
 Suffolk, Cromwell, and others of the privy council, came 
 to More at two distinct times, by all pollicies possible pro- 
 cto'ing him, saith Mr. Roper, either precisely to confess the 
 supremacy, or precisely to deny it. At either of these 
 times. More wrote confidentially to his daughter ISIargaret, 
 describing to her what had passed, and the letters are pre- 
 served in his Endish works. As these letters o-ive us the 
 best account we have of the proceedings, they are here, 
 presented to the reader. 
 
 • Roper and More.
 
 200 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Our Lord bless you nvj dearhf beloved daughter ! 
 
 ' I doubt not but, by the reason of the king's counsellors 
 resorting hither in this time, in which (our Lord be their 
 comfort!) these fathers of the Charterhouse and Mr. Rey- 
 nolds of Sion be now judged to death for treason (whose 
 matters and causes I know not), may hap to put you in 
 trouble and fear of mind concerning nie, being here pri- 
 soner ; specially for that it is not unlikely that you have 
 heard, that I was brought also before the council here my- 
 self. I have thought it necessary to advertise you of the 
 very truth ; to the end that, you should neither conceive 
 more hope than the matter giveth, lest upon another turn it 
 might agrieve your heaviness ; nor more grief and fear than 
 the matter giveth on the other side. 
 
 * Wherefore shortly you shall understand, that on Friday 
 the last day of April in the afternoon, Mr. Lieutenant came 
 in here unto me and shewed me, that Mr. Secretary would 
 speak with me. AA'hereupon I shifted my gown, and went 
 out with Mr. Lieutenant into the gallery to him ; where I 
 met many, some known and some unknown, in the way. 
 And in conclusion, coming into the chamber where his mis- 
 tership sat with Mr. Attorney, INIr. Solicitor, Mr. Bedyll, 
 and i\Ir. Dr. Tregonwell, I was offered to sit-down with 
 them ; which in nowise I would. 
 
 ' Whereupon Mr. Secretary sliewed unto me, that he
 
 SIR T. MORE. 501 
 
 doubted not but that I had, by such friends as hither had 
 resorted to me, seen the new statutes made at tJie last sit- 
 ting of the parhament. Whereunto I answered yea verily; 
 howbeit forasmuchas, being here, I have no conversation 
 with any people, I thought it little need for rae to bestow 
 much time upon them ; and therefore I re-delivered the 
 book shortly, and the effect of the statutes I never marked, 
 nor studied to put in remembrance. Then he asked me, 
 whether I had not read the first statute of them, of the 
 king being head of the church ? whereunto I answered yes. 
 Then his mistership declared unto me, that since it was 
 now by act of parhament ordained, that his highness and 
 his heirs be, and ever of right have been and perpetuall}' 
 should be, supreme head on earth of the church of Eng- 
 land imder Christ, the king's pleasure was, that those of 
 his council there assembled, should demand mine opinion, 
 and what my mind was therein. 
 
 ' Whereunto I answered, that in good faith I had well 
 trusted, that the king's highness would never have com- 
 manded any such question to be demanded of me, con- 
 sidering that I ever from the beginning well and truly, from 
 time to time, declared my mind unto his highness ; and 
 since that time, I said, unto your mistership, Mr. Secretary, 
 also, both by mouth and by writing. And now I have in good 
 faith discharged my mind of all such matters, and neither 
 will dispute kings' titles nor popes'. But the king^s true, 
 faithful subject I am, and will be ; and daily I pray for him 
 and all his, and for you all who are of his honourable council. 
 
 Vol. I. D d
 
 505 MKMOIIIS OF 
 
 ami for nil the realm. And otherwise than thh I never in- 
 tend to meddle. 
 
 ' ^Vliercunto Mr. Secretary answered, that he thought 
 this manner of answer should not satisfy nor content the 
 kind's hiijrhness ; but that his grace would exact a more full 
 answer. And his mistership added thereunto, that the 
 king's highness was a prince, not of rigour, but of mercy 
 and ]jity. And tliough that he had found obstinacy at 
 some time in any of his sul)jects, yet when he should find 
 them at another time conformable and submit themselves, 
 his grace would shew mercy. And that, concerning my- 
 self, his highness would be glad to see me take such con- 
 formable wa3's, as I might be abroad in the world again 
 among other men, as 1 have been before. 
 
 ' Whereunto 1 shortly, after the inward affection of my 
 mind, answered, for a very truth, that I would never meddle 
 in the world again to have the world given me. And to the 
 renmant of the matter I answered in effect as before; shew- 
 ing that I had fully determined with myself, neither to study 
 nor meddle with any matter of this world ; but that my 
 whole study should be, upon the passion of Christ and 
 mine own passage out of this world. 
 
 ' Upon this I was commanded to go forth for a while, 
 and afterward called-in a<2;ain. At "which time Mr. Secre- 
 tary said unto me, that though I were a prisoner condemn- 
 ed to perpetual prison, yet I was not thereby discharged
 
 SIR T. MORE. 203 
 
 of luine obedience and allegiance unto the kind's hishncss. 
 And thereupon demanded me, ^vhether that I thought, that 
 the king's grace might not exact of me such things as are 
 contained in the statutes, and upon like pains as he might 
 upon other men ? Whereto I answered, that I would not 
 say the contrary. Whereunto he said, tJiat likewise as the 
 king's highness would be gracious to them whom he found 
 conformable, so his grace would follow the course of his 
 laws toward such as he shall find obstinate. And his mis- 
 tership said farther, that my demeanour in that matter, Avas 
 a thing which of likelihood made others so stiff therein as 
 they be. 
 
 ' Whereto I answered, that I gave no man occasion to 
 hold any point, one or other ; nor never gave any man ad- 
 vice or counsel therein, one way or other. And for con- 
 clusion, I could no farther go, whatsoever pain should 
 come thereof. lam, quoth I, the king's true faithful suh- 
 ject and daily bedesman ; and pray for his highness and all 
 Ins, and all the rcabn. I do nobody harm, I say none harm, 
 I think none harm, but zcish everybody good. And if this 
 be not enough to keep a man alive, in good faith I long not 
 to live. And I am dying already y and have, since I came 
 here, been divers times in the case, that I thought to die 
 within one hour. And, I thank our Lord ! I was never sorry 
 for it ; but rather sorry when I saw the pang past. And 
 therefore, my poor, body is at the king's pleasure ; would (Jod 
 my death might do him good I 
 
 D d 2
 
 504 Ml'MOIIlS OF 
 
 ' After this Mr. Secretary «aid, rccU, youjind no fault in 
 that statute, Jind you any in any of the other statutes af/cr ? 
 W'liercto I answered, sir, zchatsoever thing should seem to 
 me other than good in any of the other statutes, or in that 
 statute either, I ivould not declare what fault I found, nor 
 speak thereof. AVhereunto finally liis niisterslii|) said full 
 gently, that of anything which 1 had spoken there should 
 none advantage be taken. And whether he said farther 
 tliat there was none to be taken, I am not well remember- 
 ed ; but he said, that report should be made unto the king's 
 highness, and his gracious pleasure known. 
 
 ' ^Vhereupon I was delivered again to Mr. Lieutenant, 
 -who was then called-in ; and so was I, by Mr. Lieutenant, 
 brought again into my chamber. And here am I yet, in 
 such case as 1 was, neither better nor worse. That that 
 shall follow, lieth in the hand of God. "\\ honi I beseech, 
 to put in the king's grace's mind that thing which may be 
 to his high pleasure; and in mine, to mind only the weal 
 of my soul, Avith little regard of my body ; and you, with 
 all yours and my wife and all my children, and all our other 
 friends both bodily and ghostly, heartily well to fare. And 
 I pray you and them all, pray for me, and take no thought 
 whatsoever shall happen me. For I verily trust in the 
 goodness of God, seem it never so evil to this world, it 
 shall indeed in another world be for the best. 
 
 Your loving father, 
 
 THOMAS MORE, KX^.
 
 SIR 'J'. MORK. 205 
 
 ' Our Lord bless you and all ijours ! 
 
 ' Forasmuch, dearly beloved daughter, as it is likely, 
 that you either have heard, or shortly shall hear, that the 
 council were here this day and that I was before them, I 
 have thought it necessary to send you word how the mat- 
 ter standeth. And verily, to be short, I perceive little dif- 
 ference between this time and the last. For, as far as I 
 can see, the whole purpose is, either to drive me to say 
 precisely the one way, or else precisely the other. 
 
 ' Here sat my lord of Canterbury, my lord chancellor, 
 my lord of Sutlolk, my lord of Wiltshire, and Mr. Secre- 
 tary. And after my coming, Mr. Secretary made rehearsal, 
 in whatwise he had reported unto the king's highness what 
 had been said by his grace's council to me, and what had 
 been answered by me to them, at mine other being before 
 them here last ; which thing his mistership rehearsed, in 
 good faith, very Avell, as I acknowledged, and confessed, 
 and heartily thanked him therefore. A\ hereupon he added 
 thereunto, that the king's highness was nothing content nor 
 satisfied with mine answer ; but thought, that by my de- 
 meanour 1 had been occasion of much grudge and harm 
 in the realm, and that 1 had an obstinate mind and an evil 
 
 toward him, and that my duty was, being his subject 
 
 and so he had sent them now, in his name, upon mine al- 
 legiance, to command me ■ to make a plain and a ter- 
 minate answer, whether 1 thought the statute lawful or not; ,
 
 206 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 and that I should cither acknowledge and confess it lawful 
 that his highness should be supreme head of the church of 
 England, or else utXer plainly n)y malignity. 
 
 ' Whereto I answered, that I had no malignit\', and there- 
 fore I ct)uld none utter. And as to the matter, 1 could none 
 other answer make than I had before made ; which answer 
 his mistcrship had there rehearsed. A'erv heavy I was, that 
 the king's highness should have an}' such opinion of me. 
 liowbeit if there were one who had inlbrmed his highness 
 many evil things of me which were unti'ue, — to which his 
 highness for the time gave credence, — I would be very sorry 
 that he should have that opinion of mc the space of one 
 day; howbeil if I Mere sure, that other should come on 
 the morrow l^y Avhom his giace should know the truth of 
 mine innocency, 1 should in the meanwhile comfort myself 
 Avith consideration of that. And in likewise now, though 
 it be great heaviness to me that his highness hath such opi- 
 nion of me for the m hile, yet have I no remedy to help it ; 
 but only to comfort myself with this consideration, that I 
 know very well that the time shall come, when Cod shall 
 declare my truth toward his grace before him and all the 
 world. And whereas it might haply seem to be but small 
 cause of comfort, Ijccause 1 might take harm here first in 
 the meanwhile, I thanked Cod that my case was such here 
 in this u)atter, through the clearness of mhie own con- 
 science, that tht)ugh I might have pain, 1 could not have 
 liarm ; for a man njay in such a case lose his head, and 
 have none harm. For 1 was very sure that 1 had no cor-
 
 SIR T. MORE. 20r 
 
 rupt afllection, but that I hud alway from the beginning 
 truly used myself, looking first upon God and next upon 
 the king; according to the lesson which his highness taudit 
 me at my first coming to his noble service, the most virtu- 
 ous lesson which ever prince taught his servant. Whose 
 highness to have of me now such opinion, is my great 
 heaviness ; but I have no mean, as I said, to help it. But 
 only comfort myself in the meantime with the hope of the 
 joyful day, in which my truth toward him shall well be 
 known. And in this matter farther I could not so, nor 
 other answer thereto I could not make. 
 
 ' To this it was said, by my lord chancellor and Mr. Se- 
 cretary both, that the king might by his laws compel me 
 to make a plain answer thereto, cither the one wa}^ or the 
 other. Whereto I answered, that I would not dispute the 
 king's authority what his highness might do in such a case ; 
 but I said, that verily, under correction, it seemed to me 
 somewhat hard. For if it so were tliat my conscience save 
 me against the statute (wherein how my conscience giveth 
 me I make no declaration), then I nothina; doino- nor no- 
 thing saying against the statute, it were a very hard thing 
 to compel mo to say, either precisely with it against m}^ 
 conscience to the loss of my soul, or precisely against it to - 
 the destruction of my body. 
 
 ' To this Mr. Secretary said, that I had ere this, when 
 I Avas chancellor, examined heretics and thieves, and other 
 malefactors ; and gave me a great praise above my deserv-
 
 908 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ing in that behalf. And he said that I then, as he thought, 
 and at the leastwise bishops, did use to examine heretics 
 whether they believed the pope to be head of the church, 
 and used to compel them to make a precise answer thereto. 
 And Avhv should not then the kins;, since it is a law made 
 here that his grace is head of the church here, compel men 
 to answer precisely to the law here, as they did then con- 
 cerning the pope ? 
 
 ' I answered, and said that I protested that I intended 
 not to defend my part or stand in contention ; but, I said 
 there was a difference between those two cases. Because 
 that at that time, as well here as elsewhere through the 
 corps of Christendom, the pope's power was recognised for 
 an undoubted thing; which seemeth not like a thing agreed 
 in this realm, and the contrary taken for truth in other 
 realms. 
 
 ' Whereto Mr. Secretary answered, that they were as 
 well burned for the denying of that, as they be beheaded 
 for the denying of this ; and therefore as good reason to 
 compel them to make precise answer to the one as to the 
 other. "Whereto I answered, that since in this case a man 
 is not by a law of one realm so bound in his conscience, 
 where there is a law of the whole corps of Christendom to 
 the contrary, in a matter touching belief, as he is by a law 
 of the whole corps, though there Jiap to be made in some 
 place a law local to the contrary, — the reasonableness or 
 the unreasonableness in binding a man to precise answer,
 
 SIR T. :\IORE. 209 
 
 stantleth not in the respect or difFerenee between heading 
 and burning; but, because of the ditFerence in charge of 
 conscience, the difference standeth between heading: aud 
 hell. 
 
 ' Much was there answered unto this, both by Mr. Se- 
 cretary and ray lord chancellor, — overlong to rehearse. 
 And in conclusion, they offered me an oath, by which 1 
 should be sworn to make true answer to such tliiniis as 
 should be asked me, on the king's behalf concerning the 
 king's own person, \yhereto I answered, that veiily I 
 never purposed to swear any book-oath more, wliile I lived. 
 Then they said, tliat I was very obstinate if I would refuse 
 that ; for every man doth it in the star-chamber, and every- 
 where. I said, that was true. But I had not so little fore- 
 sight, but that I might well conjecture what should be part 
 of mine interrogatories ; and as good it was to refuse them 
 at the first, as afterward. 
 
 ' Whereto my lord chancellor answered, that he thouo-ht 
 I guessed truth, — for I should see them. And so they were 
 shewn me ; and they were but twain, — the first, whether I 
 had seen the statute ; the other, whether I believed tliat it 
 were a lawful-made statute or not. \Vhercupon I refused 
 the oath ; and said farther by mouth, that the first I had 
 before confessed, and to the second I would make none an- 
 swer. Which was the end of our communication, and I 
 was thereupon sent away. 
 
 Vol. I. E e
 
 'IW SIE^rOIRS OF 
 
 ' In the communication betbre, it was said, that it was 
 marvelled, tliat I stack so much in my conscience while at 
 the uttermost I was not sure therein. Whereto I said, that 
 I was very sure that mine own conscience, so inlbrmed as 
 it is by such diligence as I have so long taken therein, may 
 stand with mine own salvation. I meddle not with the con- 
 science of thcni who think otherwise ; every man suo damno 
 stat aut cadit, I am no man's judge. 
 
 * Tt was also said unto me, that if I had as lief be out 
 of the world as in it, as I had there said, why did I not 
 then speak even plain out against the statute? It appeared 
 well I was not content to die, though I said so. AVhcreto 
 I answered, as the truth is, that I have not been a man of 
 such holy living, as I might be bold to ofl'er myself to death, 
 lest God for my presumption n)iglit sufter me to fall ; and 
 therefore I put not myself forward, but draw back. How- 
 bcit if God draw me to it himself, then trust I in his great 
 mercy, that he shall not fail to give me grace and strength. 
 
 ' In conclusion, Mr. Secretary said, that he liked me 
 this day much worse than he did the last time, lor then, 
 he said, he pitied me much ; and now, he thought, I meant 
 not well. But God and I know both, that I mean well ; 
 and so I pray God do by me ! I pray you, be you and 
 mine other good friends of good cheer, whatsoever fall of 
 me ; and take no thought for me, but pray for me, as I do 
 and shall for you and all them. 
 
 Your tender, loving father, 
 
 THOMAS MORE, KK^.
 
 Sm T. MORE. §11 
 
 It xvas soon after this that Rich, then newlj made the 
 king's sohcilor, Sir Richard Soutliwell, and one Palmer, 
 servant to Cromwell, were sent to More to take his books 
 from him.* Tlie knight had sometime previously, saith his 
 great-grandson, begun a divine treatise of the passion of 
 Christ; but when he came to expound the words they laid 
 hands upon him and held him, these gentlemen took from 
 him all his books, ink, and paper. More hereupon de- 
 voted himself wholly to meditation, and closed his chamber 
 windows. And when the lieutenant of the Tower inquired 
 of him his reason for so doing, More answered, xislien all 
 the wares are gone the shop-windows may be shut. He still, 
 however, contrived to procure scraps of paper, on which 
 he now wrote with a coal ; and one of these scraps, a pre- 
 cious jezoel, as he calls it, his great-grandson inherited. 
 
 It hath been supposed by some, tliat Rich was sent on 
 this occasion with a view to entangle More if possible in a 
 dispute ; and if nothing could fairly be deduced from their 
 conversation to the knight's prejudice, that the solicitor was 
 at any rate to have accused More falsely. But a design of 
 this kind, although it be by no means inconsistent with the 
 character of Henry's court, must now rest upon our con- 
 jectures only, antl cannot be expected at this distant day 
 to admit of tresh proof. 
 
 Certain it is, that while Southwell and Palmer were pack- 
 ing the books, Rich, pretending familiar conversation with 
 
 * Roper. 
 
 Ee 2
 
 21 'J MEMOIRS OP 
 
 More, said to him, since he was learned in tlie law and 
 otherwise, uiight he put the (juestion to iiim, // there xvas 
 an act of parliament that the realm should take me for Icing, 
 zioiild not you take mc for king ? 
 
 Yes sir, replied More, that zvould I. 
 
 I put the case farther, said Rich. TVcre there an act of 
 parliament that all the realm should take me for pope, would 
 not you then take me for pope ? 
 
 ISlore replied, the parliament might well meddle with the 
 state of temporal princes, but to answer the other case, he 
 would put this case. Suppose the parliament would make a 
 law that God should not be God, would you then Mr. Rich 
 say that God were not God ? 
 
 No sir, replied Rich, that would I not ; since no parlia- 
 ment may make any such law. 
 
 Here, according to Mr. Roper, the conversation ended. 
 But Rich when called upon at INIore's trial falsely reported, 
 that the knight rejoined to this answer, no more could the 
 parliament make the king supreme head of the church. 
 
 When More was arraigned at the King's-bench bar, he 
 had been for above a year in prison. His bodily strength 
 had been materially impaired, having experienced returns 
 of the complaint in his breast, and new attacks of the
 
 SIR T. MORE. 
 
 213 
 
 gravel and stone.* Weak and emaciated, he leaned on a 
 crutch Avhen he went to this trial, yet his couiiieadiice was 
 firm and cheerful. He was tried, probably by special com- 
 mission, before 
 
 Cliancellor Aiidlcy, 
 Chief-justice Fitzjanaes, 
 Sir John Bildwin, 
 Sir Richard Leister, 
 Sir Jolia Port, 
 Sir John Spilraan, 
 Sir Walter Luke, 
 Sir Anthony Fitzherbert. 
 
 His jury, for their names too deserve to be recorded to 
 their infamy, were 
 
 Sir Thomas Palmer, 
 Sir Thomas Peirt, 
 George Lovell, 
 Thomas Burbage, 
 Geoffrey Chamber, 
 Edward Stockmore, 
 William Browne, 
 Jasper Leake, 
 Thomas Billington, 
 John Parnel, 
 Richard Bellame, 
 George Stoakes.t 
 
 Esqrs. 
 
 ^Gentlemen; 
 
 The indictment was so long, that More declared he could 
 
 * Eng. works, p. 1434. ^ More.
 
 tH Mr.MOIRS OF 
 
 scarcely vemcmbcr a tliml part of what was objected against 
 him.* Ilis chief" crime was, his refusal of the oath as we 
 have already seen ; wliich was termed ma/iciotis, trriito7-ous, 
 ond diabolkal. IJis two examinations in the Towit, with 
 the declarations he then made, were adduced in proof of 
 the charge. And it was allesjjeil, that he had written letters 
 to bishop Fisher, to bias tliat prelate likewise ; for his an- 
 swers resembled those made l>y More. Upon the whole, it 
 was concluded, that the knight was a traitor to his j^rince 
 and to the irahn, for denying the king's supreme juristlic- 
 tion in ecclesiastical government. 
 
 The reader who hath marked the character of Henry's 
 reign, will already have anticipated the result of this trial. 
 For he needeth not to be told, that this prince made his 
 will a rule forjudges and even juries ; that he sported with 
 law aiul common-sense on all occasions ; that his parlia- 
 ments followed his caprices with servility ; and that they as 
 well as himself were lost to all sense of shame. The fate 
 of Sir Tiiomas More is a striking, among many other la- 
 mentable cxemplihcations of these horrid truths. 
 
 After the indictment had been read to him, the duke of 
 Norfolk said to More, you iee now how grievously you have 
 offended his tjiajesty. Yet he is so merciful, that if you will 
 lay aside your obstinacy and change your opinion, we hope 
 you may obtaiu pardon of his highness. 
 
 * Pole.
 
 SIR T. IVrORE. 215 
 
 To this, continues the great-grandson, the stout champion 
 of Christ repUed, most noble lords, I have great cause to 
 thank your honours for this your courtesy. But I beseech Al- 
 mighty God, that I may continue in the mind I am in, through 
 his grace, unto death. 
 
 For the former part of More's defence we are indebted 
 to Stapleton, from whose Latin we will translate the knight's 
 words. 
 
 ' When I recollect the length of my accusation, and the 
 weight of what is objected against nie, 1 am apprehensive 
 that my understanding, my memory, and my power ot ut- 
 terance, may fail me in making due answer to the w Ik;!.- ; 
 so am I still affected by the bodilj^ weakness which I iiave 
 suffered from my imprisonment.' 
 
 Here a seat was ordered to be brought the knight. Ii 
 ing seated himself, he thus proceeded. 
 
 ' There be four divisions, if I mistake not, of my indict- 
 ment ; which I will answer in order. 
 
 ' To the FIRST, that I was averse to his majesty's second 
 marriage, I candidly own, I ever disapproved this marriage 
 to the king. Nor am I noAV inclined to say or think other- 
 wise of it than I have done, for the dictate of my con- 
 science is still the same. This dictate I was neither inchned 
 of my own accord to conceal frgm bis majesty, nor ought
 
 €19 MrMOmS OF 
 
 I to have clone so wlicn the triilli was domandecl of me ; 
 and no suspicion of treason can on this occasion attach it- 
 self to ine. On tlie contrary. IxMn"- asked a (iue>li(jn of 
 Mich moment by jny prince, on which his lionour and the 
 tranquility of his kingdom de|)endcd, hail 1 spoken with 
 more regard to comj)liance Aviih his wislies than to truth, I 
 should then with justice have been accused of what I am 
 now accused, of malevolence, wickedness, treachery. 
 
 * But even for this fault of mine, if it be a fault in man 
 to speak the truth to his prince when he asks it, 1 have al- 
 ready surt'ered se\ere punishment. I have been proscribed 
 from all intercourse with mankind, and continually innnur- 
 cci in prison lor nearly hlteen months. 
 
 ' A SECOND head of my indictment is, that I am amen- 
 able to punishuicit tor the violation of an act of parlia- 
 nietit. lor, when in jnison, of n)y malevolence, Avicked- 
 ness, treachery, I sought to detract Irom the honour due to 
 his majesty as recognised by that act in his new title, szf- 
 j)iij)!t htad oil earih of the church oj E/ighuuL 
 
 ' AVhat opinion did I utter regarding this act, when twice 
 questioned in piibon by Mr. Secretary and others of his 
 majesty's council, that I hould be said to have detracted 
 frou), or to lia\e denied, this new authority? I would give 
 no otlier answer ihun, that the act, just or unjust, pertain- 
 ed not to nie, who was dead in law, and was no longer 
 bomid to answer to statutes A\liich 1 should never more use;
 
 SIR T. MORE, 217 
 
 yet that neither by word or deed had I ever done anything 
 derogatory to the act, and therefore I could not with justice 
 be condemned for a Jaw against which it could not be ob- 
 jected to me that I had either acted or spoken ; that, re- 
 jecting every other care, I wished to turn my thoughts for 
 the time to come to the bitter passion of my Saviour, and 
 to my own passage from this life. 
 
 ' I own I made this ansAver. But I maintain that this 
 law or act was by no means violated by such answer, nor 
 any capital offence committed by it. Neither your laws, 
 nor those of the whole world, can criminate mere silence. 
 They are made for words and actions; God alone can judge 
 of secret thoughts.' 
 
 Here the king's counsel remarked, that More's silence 
 was a sure sign of his evil disposition and a certain proof 
 of his malice ; for no man in the kingdom well-affected to- 
 ward his majesty, being interrogated as to this act, would 
 refuse to declare his opinion categorically. 
 
 ' My silence,' replied More, ' is neither a sign of any 
 evil disposition in me, as his majesty may know b}- many 
 proofs, neither doth it bear any conviction of a breach of 
 your law. It is to be taken for assent rather than dissent, 
 witness the lawyers' phrase, who is silent seemeth to consent. 
 As to your inference respecting the duty of a good subject 
 from the example of all England, I am of opinion, that it 
 is the duty of such a one, uliless he would be a bad chris- 
 
 VoL. I. F f
 
 218 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 tian at thf^ same time tliat he is a good suliject, to ol)cy 
 God rather thafi man ; to have more care of his conscience 
 and the preservation of his soul, than of any other thing 
 wliatever. Especially when, which is certainly my case, 
 his conscience is such, as to produce not the smallest of- 
 fence, no scandal, no sedition to his 'prince. For 1 solemn- 
 ly athrni, that I never opened this conscience of mine to 
 any mortal living/ 
 
 ' I come now to the third head of my indictment. 
 By Avhich 1 am accused, against the constitution of my 
 my country, to have violated an act of parliament ; having 
 maliciously endeavoured, wickedly contrived, and treacher- 
 ously practised, so saith the indictment, to interchange 
 eight letters in prison with the bishop of Rochester, where- 
 in I persuaded him against this law and incited him to op- 
 pose it. 
 
 * I earnestly desire that these letters may be produced 
 and read, for they will either condemn or acquit me. But 
 since you say that the bishop burnt then), I will not hesi- 
 tate to repeat to you what they contained. Some of them 
 Avere full of our private aft'airs and related to our old and 
 intimate friendship. One contained my answer to his let- 
 ter of inquiry, what reply I had made in prison to the 
 king's counsellors on this new subject. 'Jo this I made no 
 other answer, than that I had made-up my own mind, and 
 he might make-up his. So God love me and preserve my 
 soul as 1 wrote him nothing else, and as God is my witness
 
 sill T. MORE. afS 
 
 this and nothing else is the truth !• Thus is there nothing in 
 this instance neither which I have conimittcd, contrary to 
 law and worthy of death. 
 
 ' The FOURTH and last allegation against me is, that 
 when I was examined concerning this law in prison, I said, 
 it was like a two-edged sword ; who opposed it destroyed 
 his body, who consented to it, confounded his soul. From 
 which kind of answer, because the bishop of Rochester 
 likewise made it, it was asserted that we had evidently con- 
 spired in the matter. 
 
 ' I answer that this expression was more qualified on my 
 part. Namely, that I said, in either case there was danger, 
 whether I approved or disapproved the law, and therefore 
 it was like a two-edged sword, which wielded cutteth both 
 ways ; and the condition seemed peculiarly severe in ex- 
 tending to myself, who contradicted it neither by word nor 
 deed. These were 7ny words ; how the bishop answered I 
 know not. If his reasoning agreed with mine, it hath arisen 
 from no collusion, but rather from our similar thouo-hts and 
 studies. In short, ye ma}' rest satisfied, that I have never 
 spoken to any mortal living against this constitution, al- 
 though perhfijis some false reports may have been made on 
 the subject to the king's most merciful majesty.' 
 
 Though no farther answer was now made to More, the 
 word malice, saiih Ins great-grandson, Avas in the mouth of 
 the whole court. And as a final proot of the knight's "uiit, 
 
 F f 2
 
 220 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Rich was now called, lo relate upon oath the conversation 
 which we have already noticed. Mr, Roper hath preserved 
 the answer of More upon this occasion in his very words, 
 as reported to him by credible eye witnesses. 
 
 ' If I was a man my lords,' said the knight, ' who did 
 not regard an oath, I needed not, as it is well known, stand 
 in this place, and at this time, nor in this case, as an ac- 
 cused person. And it" this oath of yours Mr. Rich be true 
 then I pray that I never see God in the face, which I would 
 not say were it otherwise, to win the whole world.' 
 
 Here More gave the court the true account of his con- 
 versation with Rich in the Tower ; and then he proceeded, 
 thus. 
 
 ' In good faith, Mr. Rich, I am sorrier for your perjury, 
 than for mine own peril. And you shall understand, that 
 ntither I, nor no man else to my knowledge, ever took you 
 to be a man of such credit, as, in any matter of import- 
 ance, I, or any other, would at any time vouchsafe to com- 
 municate with you. And I, as you know, of no small 
 while have been acquainted with you and your conversa- 
 tion, who have known you from your youth hitherto, for 
 we long dwelt together in one parish. Where, as yourself 
 can tell (I am sorry you compel me so to say) you were 
 esteemed very light of your tongue, a great dicer, and of 
 no commendable fame. And so, in your house at the
 
 SIR T. MORE. 221 
 
 Temple, where hath been your chief bringing-up, were you 
 hkewise accounted. 
 
 * Can it therefore seem likely to your honourable lord- 
 ships, that I would in so weighty a cause so unadvisedly 
 overshoot myself, as to trust Mr. Rich, a man of me alway 
 reputed of little truth as your lordships have heard, so far 
 above my sovereign lord the king or any of his noble coun- 
 sellors, that I would unto him utter the secrets of ray con- 
 science touching the king's supremacy, the special point 
 and only mark at my hands so long sought-for, a thing 
 which I never did nor never would, after the statute there- 
 of made, reveal unto the king's highness himself, or to any 
 of his honourable counsellors, as it is not unknown unto 
 your honours, at sundry several times sent from his owa 
 person to the Tower to me, for none other purpose ? Can 
 this, in your judgment ray lords, seem likely to be true ? 
 
 • And yet, if I had so done indeed, my lords, as Mr. 
 Rich hath sworn, seeing it was spoken but in secret fami- 
 liar talk, nothing affirming, and only in putting of cases, 
 without other displeasant circumstances, it cannot justly 
 be taken to be spoken inalidously . And where there is no 
 malice, there can be no otlence. And over this, I can 
 never think my lords, that so many worthy bishops, so 
 many honourable personages, and so many other worship- 
 ful, virtuous, wise, and learned men, as at the making of 
 that law were in that parliament assembled, ever meant to 
 have any man punished by death in whom there could be
 
 222 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 found no malice ; taking malitia for malcvoleiiiia. I'or if 
 vialitia be generally taken for siu, no man is there then 
 who can excuse himself; qiihi si dixcrimus quod pcccatum 
 7wn hubemus, nosmct ipsos scducemus et Veritas in nobis non 
 est. And moreover this word maliviously is in this statute 
 material; as the term /o/t/Tj/c is in the statute o^ forcible 
 cnir^sse. By which statute, if a man enter peaceably and 
 put not his adversaries out /b;"c/7>///, it is no oti'ence ; but if 
 lie put them out ^"oj-c/Y»/y, then by the statute it is an of- 
 fence, and so shall he be punished by this term forcibh/. 
 
 ' Beside this, the manifold goodness of the king's high- 
 ness himself, — who hath been so many ways my singular 
 good lord, and who hath so dearly loved and trusted me; 
 oven at my very first coming into his honourable service, 
 to the dignity of his honourable privy council Vouchsafing 
 to admit -me, and to oflices of great credit and worship 
 most liberally advancing me ; and finally, with the weighty 
 room of his grace's high chancellor (the like whereof he 
 never did to temporal man before), next to his own royal 
 person the highest officer in this noble realm, so far above 
 my qualities or merits able and meet therefore, of his own 
 incomparable benignity honouring and exalting me ; by the 
 space of twenty years and more shewing his continual fa- 
 vour toward me; and (until at mine own poor suit it pleasdd 
 his highness, giving me licence with his majesty's favour 
 to bestow the lesiduc of my life for the provision of my 
 soul in the service of Cod, of his special goodness to 
 discharge and disburthcn me), most benignly heaping ho-
 
 SIR T. MORE. 223 
 
 nours continually more and more upon me, all this his 
 
 highness' goodness I say, so long thus continually extended 
 toward me, were in my mind, my lords, matter sufficient 
 to convince this slanderous surmise, by this man so wrong- 
 fully imagined ag linst me.' 
 
 Rich now desired that his companions, Southwell and' 
 Palmer, should be examined relative to his conversation 
 with More. When they had been sworn they either o'f 
 them deposed, that being employed in conveying away the 
 knight's books as they had been ordered, they paid no at- 
 tention to the conversation which was passing. 
 
 The jury, however, speedily found More guilty ; and 
 the chancellor, More's immediate successor, was 'proceed^ 
 ing, as chief commissioner, with no less' hasty servility to 
 pronounce judgment upon him, when the knight observed, 
 that in his time it was customary in such a case, to ask the 
 prisoner before judgment, what he could say why judgment 
 should not be given against him. The chancellor hereupon 
 demanded of More wiiat he was able to say m this in- 
 stance to the contrary ? and More, according to Mr. lloper, 
 thus replied to him. 
 
 ' Forasmuch, my lords, as this indictment is grounded 
 upon an act of parliainent directly repugnant to the laws 
 of God and his holy church, — the supreme government 
 whereof, or any part thereof, may no temporal prince pre- 
 sume by any law to take upon him, as rightfully belonging
 
 224 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 to the see of Rome, a spiritual pre-eminence, by the mouth 
 of our Saviour liimsclf, persoually present upon the earth, 
 only to S'. Peter and his successors, bishops of the same 
 
 see, by special preroj^ative granted it is therefore, in 
 
 law, among christian men, insufficient to charge any chris- 
 tian man.' 
 
 The knight added, that as the city of London could not 
 make a law against an act of parliament which bound the 
 whole realm, neither could this realm make a particular 
 .law incompatible with the general law of Christ's universal 
 catholic church ; that it was contrary to the unrepealed 
 statutes of the country, for, by Magna Charta, ecclcsia 
 Anglicana, lil»a sit, et liabeat omnia sua jura integra et il- 
 l(csa : that it was contrary also to tlie oath taken by Henry 
 and every other christian prince at his coronation ; that no 
 ziiorc might England retuse obedience to the see of Rome, 
 
 than a child to its natural father ' for, as S'. Paul said 
 
 to the Coiintliians, I have regenerated ye mij children in 
 Christ, so might S'. Gregory, pojie of Rome (suice by S'. 
 Augustin, his messenger, we first received the christian 
 faith), of us Englishmen tiuly say, ye are my children, be- 
 cause I have, under Christ, given to ye everlasting salvation, 
 afar higher and better inheritance than any carnal father 
 can leave to his children, and by regeneration have made ye 
 spiritual children in Christ ' 
 
 The chancellor here repeated the old remark, that since 
 the bisliops, universities, and best learned had subscribed
 
 SIR T. MORE. 225 
 
 to the act, it was wonclcit'ul that he alone would oppose 
 them all and argue so strongly against it. 
 
 ' If the number of bishops and universities be so mate- 
 rial/ replied More, ' as your lordship seemeth to take it, 
 then see I little cause, my lord, why that thing in my con- 
 science should make any change. For I nothing doubt, 
 but that, though not in this realm, yet in Christendom 
 about, of those well-learned bishops and virtuous men who 
 be yet alive, they be not the fourth part who be of your 
 opinion therein. But if I should speak of those who be 
 dead, of whom many be now holy saints in heaven, I am 
 very sure it is the far greater part of them, who, all the 
 while they lived thought in this case that way which I now 
 think. And therefore am I not bound, my lord, to con- 
 form my conscience to the counsel of our realm, against' 
 the general counsel of Christendom.' 
 
 The chancellor at length asked the opinion of the chief- 
 justice, if the indictment were sufficient. Fitz-james re- 
 plied with his usual oath, my lords all, by S'. Julian, J must 
 needs confess, that if the act of parliament be not unlawful^ 
 then is the indictment in my conscience good. An answer 
 upon which More's great-grandson remarketh, that it re- 
 sembled that of the Scribes and Pharisees to Pilate ; if this 
 man were not a malefactor^ we would never have delivered 
 him unto you. 
 
 The chancellor now proceeded to pronounce the usuiU^ 
 Vol. I. G g
 
 S26 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 sentence of" liani;ing, chawing-, and (luarU-riui; ; loi- wliicli 
 llcniy VI 11 lialli been pronounce<l by Paulus Jovins, a se- 
 cond Plialaris. In consideration, however, of the high of- 
 fices which More had filled, this sentence was afterwaid 
 mitigated to /W/t'flf//«i>- ; a sul>iect which still afforded the 
 undismayed knight an opportunity of jesting. G.td forlr'id, 
 he said, that the h'nts; slionld use ant/ more siicfi inero/ unto 
 unt/ of mji fiunuh^ and God /dess all nnj posferifi/ from such 
 yardons.*' 
 
 If we may credit Stapleton, ^Joic said after his judg- 
 ment was passed, that since he stood condemned, how jnst- 
 ly God knew, to disburthen his conscience lie would now 
 freely speak what he thought of the late proceedings. When 
 he perceived that the state of this kingdonj retpiired the 
 investigation "v^hence the power of the Roman pontiff was 
 derived, he directed his' attention and study for seven whole 
 years to the subject. But to this day could he never dis- 
 cover in any learned writer approved by the church, that 
 a layman ever had been, or ever could l)e, head of the 
 church. 
 
 Tiie chancellor is said here again to have remarked, that 
 the knight arrogated to liimself more wisdom and integrity 
 than the whole realm beside ; and More again to have re- 
 plied, that against one bishop he could name him an ijun- 
 dred, and against one realm the consent of all Christendom 
 for more than a thousand years. ]>ioro Sir Thomas, exclaini- 
 
 • More.
 
 SIR T. MORE/ 227 
 
 ed the duke of Norfolk, you shew your malice; to which 
 More answered, that he only discharged his conscience.* 
 
 The commissioners now offered ]\Iore a favourable hear- 
 ing, if he had anything farther to offer in his defence. 
 
 ' More have I not to say my lords,' replied the knight, 
 ' but that, like as the blessed apostle S'. Paul, as we read 
 in the Acts of the Apostles, was present and consented to 
 the death of S'. Stephen, and kept their clothes who stoned 
 him to death, — and yet be they now both twain holy saints 
 in heaven, and shall continue tlierc friends together for 
 ever so I verily trust, and shall therelbre right hearti- 
 ly pray, that though your lordships have now here on earth 
 been judges to my condemnation, we may yet hereafter in 
 heaven all meet together, to everlasting salvation.j- 
 
 Tlius did the knidit receive the sentence of condemna- 
 tion with that equal temper of mind v.hicli he had discover-. 
 ed in either condition o[' life ; and Jie now devoted himself 
 ■wholly to prepare lor death, which we shall find proved 
 little terrible to him. 
 
 Sir "William Kingston, a tall, strong, and comely knight 
 (as Mr. Roper calls him), and Mora's very dear friend, at- 
 tended the knight, as constable of the Tower, on his re-, 
 turn thither. At the Old Swan, with a heavy heart, tears 
 running down his cheeks, he wished More farewell. 
 
 • More. t Roper. 
 
 G g 2
 
 ^ifS ]\[t:.MOIRS OF 
 
 ' Sir Thomas More,' continues Mr. Roper, ' seeing him 
 so sorrowiiil, comforted him with as good words as he could, 
 saying, good Mr. Kingston, trouble not yourself, but be of 
 good cheer. For I will pray for you and my good lady your 
 ZiiJ'e, thai we may meet in heaven together, zchere zmc shall 
 be merry for ever and ever. Soon afterward. Sir AVilham 
 Kingston, talking with rae of Sir Thomas More, said, in 
 goodfaihli Mr. Roper I zcas ashamed of myself, that, at my 
 departing from your father, I found my heart so feeble, and. 
 his so .strong, that he was fain to comfort me, who should 
 rather have comforted him.' 
 
 A scene 3ct more tender occurred before the knight 
 reached the Tower, and which a])|)earcth not unworthy of 
 the artist's jiencil. IJis affectionate daughter Margaret, 
 fearing that this would be her last opportunity of seeing 
 her dear father in this world, awaited his coming, at the 
 Tower-wharf, and on his approach, pressed forward to him 
 with an ardour nearly frantic, which neither the crowd nor 
 his guards could restrain. Having reached him, she clung 
 round his neck and kissed him, with the utmost ardour of 
 filial affection. More seemed pleased with her manner, and 
 blessed and comforted her. After she had gone from him, 
 she was again seized with the same enthusiasm, and re- 
 lumed once more to rc-act the same tender scene, amid 
 the tears of many of the spectators. 'Jhe knight's son, it 
 appears, also prrsentrd hinreelf to his father and asked his 
 blrssing.* 
 
 • Roper an More.
 
 SIR T. MORE, 229 
 
 Between Mores condemnation and the execution of his 
 sentence, about a week intervened ; which he passed in 
 prayer, and in such disciphne as his persuasion induced 
 him to beheve would tend to his acceptance with his Maker.* 
 Yet his usual facetiousness in worldly affairs forsook him 
 not even at this awful crisis/ 
 
 A light-headed courtier, as More's great-grandson calls 
 him, having come to the knight, not to talk of serious mat- 
 ters but to urge him to change his mind. Sir Thomas, wearied 
 by his impertinence and importunity, at last replied I have 
 changed it. The report of this soon reached the king, and 
 More was commanded to explain himself. The knight now 
 rebuked the courtier for troubling his majesty with what he 
 spoke in jest ; his meaning he said was, that whereas he 
 purposed to have been shaved, that he might appear as 
 usual at his execution, he had now changed his mind, and 
 his beard should share the fate of his head. 
 
 Two of More's last letters, written with a coal, are pre- 
 served in the volume of his English works. The former is 
 in Latin, to Mr. Anthony Bonvyse, a rich merchant, who 
 appears to have been an old and constant friend of the 
 knight, and of whose kindness this is his last grateful ac- 
 knowledgment ; adding after his signature Thomas Morus, 
 friistra fecero si adjiciam tuus, nam hoc jam nescirc non potes 
 qutim tot benejiciis emeris, nee ego nunc talis sum tit rcferat 
 cujus sim. The latter, to his daughter IMargaret, was writ- 
 
 * See More.
 
 '230 .MK.MOIRS Of 
 
 1335. ten on July o''> 1535, Ihc very day before his execution, 
 anil is here presented to the reader. 
 
 Sir Thomas More to ^[rs. lioper. 
 
 * Our Lord bless yovi good daughter, and your good hus- 
 band, and your little boy, and all yours ; and all n)y ehdd- 
 ren, and^U my god-eliildren and all our jiiends. 
 
 ' Recommend me when you may to my good daughter 
 Cicily, whom 1 beseech our Lord to conil'ort ! and 1 send 
 hei my blessing, and to all her children, and pray her to 
 pray lor me. 1 send her an handkerchiel ; and God coni- 
 tbrt my good son her husband ! 
 
 ' ]\Iy good daughter Daunce hath the picture in parch- 
 ment which you delivered me Irom my Lady Coniers ; her 
 name is on the back side. Shew her that 1 heartily pray 
 her, that you may send it in niy name to her again, for a 
 token from me to pray for me. 
 
 ' I like special well Dorothy Coly. I pray you be good 
 unto her 1 1 would wit whether this be she whom you wrote 
 me of? If not, yet I pray you be good to the other, as 
 you may in her atHiction, and to my god-daughter Joan 
 Aleyn too. Give her, I pray you, some kind answer; lor 
 . she sued hither to me this day, to pray you be good to her. 
 
 ' 1 cumber you, good Margaret, much ; but I v.ould be
 
 SIR T. MOKiJ. r^I 
 
 sorry if it should lie any longer than lo-niorrow. For it i.^ 
 S'. Thomas even, and the Utas of S'. Peter; and therefore to- 
 morrow long I to go to God, — it were a day very meet and 
 convenient for me. I never liked your manner toward me 
 better than when you kissed me last; for I love when daugh- 
 terly love and dear charity hath no leisure to look to world- 
 ly courtesy. Farewell my dear child and pray for me; and 
 I shall for you and all your friends, that we may merrily 
 meet in heaven. I thank you for your great cost. 
 
 ' I send now to my god-daughter Clement her algorism 
 stone ; and I send her, and my god-son, and all hers, God's 
 blessing and mine. I pray you, at time convenient, re- 
 commend me to my goodson, John More. I liked well his 
 natural fashion. Our Lord bless him and his good wife 
 my loving daughter ! to whom I pray him be good, as he 
 hath great cause; and that if the land of mine come to 
 his hand, he break not my will concerning his sister Daunce. 
 And our Lord bless Thomas and Austin* and all that they 
 shall have/ ' :.' ' •' 
 
 For the reasons which he gives in this letter, it was pro- 
 bably at More's particular request, that the following day 
 was that fixed upon for his execution. Early in the morn- 
 iiig of Tuesday July 6'^ 1535, his friend Sir Thomas Pope 
 came to him Avith a message Irom the king and council, 
 
 • * John More's children.
 
 293 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 that he sliould suflfcr death on that mornnig before nine of 
 4he clock, and tluit he might prepare himself accordingly. 
 
 * Mr. Pope,' saitl Sir Thomas, ' for your good tidings I 
 lieartily thank you. I have been alway much bounden to 
 the king's highness for the benefits and honours which he 
 hath stilj, from time to time, most bountifully heaped up- 
 on me. And yet more bounden am 1 to his grace, for put- 
 ting me into this place, where I have had convenient time 
 and space to have remembrance of my end. And, so God 
 help me ! niost of all, Mr. Pope, am I lx)vinden to his 
 highness, that it pleaseth him so shortly to rid me from the 
 miseries of this wretched world. And therefore will I not 
 fail, eainestly to pray for his grace, both here and also in 
 the world to come.' 
 
 ' The king's pleasure is farther,' added Pope, ' that at 
 your execution you shall not use many words.' 
 
 ' Mr. Pope,' replied More, * you do well to give me 
 warning of his grace's pleasure ; for otherwise, at that time, 
 had 1 purposed somewhat to have spoken, but of no matter 
 wherewith his grace, or any, should have had cause to be 
 ofi'ended. Nevertheless, whatsoever I intended, 1 am ready 
 obediently to conform myself to his grace's commandment; 
 and I beseech you, good Mr. Pope, to be a mean to his 
 highness, that my daughter Margaret may be at my burial.' 
 
 ' The king is content already,' said Pope, that your wife
 
 SIR T. MORE. 233 
 
 and children, and other your friends, shall have hberty to 
 be present thereat.' 
 
 ' O ! how much beholden then,' said More, ' am I unto 
 his grace, who unto my poor burial vouchsafeth to have so 
 gracious consideration.' * 
 
 It Avas not without reason that Henry's command, he 
 should not use many words, accompanied the message of 
 death. He was not ignorant of More's ability as a public 
 speaker, and how great his authority was among the people. 
 He was sensible too of the provocation which he had given 
 his prisoner ; and, judging the knight's temper by his own, 
 he feared that he should be treated with the most vindictive 
 and offensive freedom. But the subject on this occasion 
 proved too good for his prince ; and the circumstance only 
 serves to add to our contempt of Henry's conduct. 
 
 Pope now took leave of More, and could not retiain 
 from tears. 
 
 * Quiet yourself good Mr. Pope,' said More, ' and be not 
 discomforted ; for 1 trust that we shall once in heaven see 
 each other full merrily, where we shall be sure to live and 
 love together in joyful bliss eternally.' 
 
 More now put-on his best clothes : which, when the 
 lieutenant of the Tower saw, he advised him to take them 
 
 • Roper. 
 
 Vol. I. H h
 
 554 MEMOIRS (3F 
 
 ■off again, saying he was but a rascal who sliould have 
 Ihcm. 
 
 * AVhat. Mr. Lieutenant,' said the knight, ' shall I account 
 him a rascal who shall do me this da}' so singular a bene- 
 fit? Nay, 1 assure you, were it cloth of gold I should think 
 it well bestowed on him, as S'. Cyprian did, who gave his 
 •executioner thirty pieces of gold/ 
 
 'J'he lieutenant, however, persuaded him to re-change his 
 <]ress. Yet, of the little money which was left to hinj, the 
 knight sent his executioner an angel.* 
 
 At the appointed time, he was conducted from his prison 
 •by the lieutenant of the Towei' to tlie place of execution ; 
 his beard bting long, ?ays his great-grandson, his face paie 
 and lean, carrytng in his hands a red cross, casting his eyes 
 often toward heaien. Yet his facetiousness remained to the 
 last, of which three instances are related to have passed, 
 even uj)on the scaftold. On ascending this structure, be 
 Ibund it so weak that it Avas ready to fall ; upon which he 
 said to the lieutenant, I pray see tm tip safe, and for my 
 coming donn let me shift for myself As Henry had so pru- 
 tJently imposed silence upon him at this time, More only 
 desired of his spectators that they would pray for him, and 
 bear witness that he there suflered death in and for the 
 faith of the catholic church.-f- 
 
 • Roper. i Roper.
 
 SIR T. MO [IE. 233 
 
 This said, he knelt, and repeated a psahn with grcatde- 
 votion ; perhaps the 51", the 56"", or the 57'^. lie then 
 rose cheerfully, and the executioner asking his forgiveness. 
 More kissed him and said, thou wilt do me this day a great- 
 er benefit, than ever any mortal man can be able to give me. 
 Pluck-up thy spirit, man, and be not afraid to do thy office. 
 My neck is very short ; take heed therefore that thou strike 
 not awry, for saving thy honesty. \A hen he laid his head 
 upon the block, he desired the executioner to wait till he 
 had removed his hedixd, for that had never committed treason. 
 ' So with great alacrity and spiritual joy,' adds his great- 
 grandson, ' he received the fatal blow of the axe ; which 
 no sooner had severed the head from the body, but his soul 
 was carried by angels into everlasting glory, where a crown 
 of martyrdom was put upon him which can never fade nor 
 decay/ 
 
 More's behaviour in this last scene hath been censured 
 by some as hght and indecent, and partaking more of the 
 stoic than of the christian. The more candid, however, 
 have allowed that that manner having been so natural to 
 him on all occasions, it was not peculiar upon this ; but 
 proved that death by no means discomposed him, and could 
 not even put him out of his ordinary humour. 
 
 His head remained for some time fixed upon a pole on 
 London-bridge, until the piety of his daughter Margaret 
 found an opportunity of purchasing it. She is said to have 
 preserved it in a leaden box, and to have ordered its inter- 
 
 Hh 2
 
 256 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 meut with her o-wn bod} in tlie Roper-vault, under a chapel 
 adjoining 8'. Dunstan's, Canterbury.* Ilislx)dY was buried 
 in the chapel of S'. Peter in the 'J ower, probably near bishop 
 Fisher, who, like More, had appointed himselt" a tomb in 
 his lifetime, Avhich his body never occupied. Some of our 
 antiquaries have asserted that More's body was afterward 
 removed to Chelsea by his daughter Maigaret ; but this is 
 by no means satisfactorily made out, and appeals to be im- 
 jirobable for more reasons than one. 
 
 • More and Wood-
 
 SIE T. MORE. 237 
 
 CHAR VI. 
 
 jinecdote. . . . Queen Ann and Cranmer indolent in More's caitse. . , . 
 Effects of More's execution. . . . Sentiments of the Emperor Charles, 
 Cardinal Pole, and Paulus Jovius. . . . Morels religion, bigotry, i^c, 
 .... Not so extravagant as some, in his notions of the papal power. 
 .... His propensity to jesting, and witty sayings. . . . His behaviour 
 at his death natural. . . . His disinterestedness, and integrity ivhile 
 chancellor, and virtue as a patriot minister. . . . Queen Catharine's 
 opinion of More. . . . His greatness of mind, excellent temper, and 
 good management of his family. . . . Other traits of his character. 
 .... His learning, modesty, and benevolence. . . . His Utopia, History 
 of Richard HI, epigrams, letters, and controversial writings. . . . 
 £urnet's character of him as a zvriter. . . . The editions of More's 
 English and Latin works. . . . His personal peculiarities. . . . His fa- 
 mily. . . . Erasmus' encomium on More's house, . . . Mrs. Roper. . , . 
 Her letter to her father in prison. . . . Her daughter Basset. . . . 
 More's letter to GonelliLS. . . . The death of Erasmus and view of his 
 character. . . . More's remonstrances with him misrepresented. 
 
 1 T is said that when Henry received the report of More's 
 execution he was playing at draughts, and Queen Ann was 
 looking~on. Casting his eyes upon her, lie said ihou art the
 
 238 IIEMOIRS OF 
 
 cause of this maii^s death ; ami soon afterward he left the 
 game. He betook himself, it is added, to his chamber, and 
 fell into a fit of melancholy.* 
 
 ^Vhatever credit may be due to this anecdote, those writ- 
 ers who assert that Ann was instrumental to More's execu- 
 tion, have probably been guided by it. Yet she was per- 
 haps rather an approver of the execution than an instigator 
 to it ; for it is certain that the temper of her consort, irrit- 
 able and impetuous as it was, seldom stood in need of in- 
 stigation to lead it to extremities. 
 
 After having opposed the divorce and second marriage, 
 INIore became an opponent of what was then termed he- 
 resy ; of which Ann was a patron. If then only to remove 
 an enemy to herself and her cause, we have no reason to 
 doubt that the queen's voice was in favour of the execu- 
 tion, ^ay, if she found the king at any time wavering in 
 his resolution, she may have endeavoured to confirm him 
 ill it, and thus have given ground to Henry, in the first mo- 
 ments of his uneasiness, to charge her with having caused 
 the knight's death. 
 
 O' 
 
 Cranmer, as well as Ann, had, we know, very consider- 
 able influence on Henry's purposes ; and had they now ex- 
 erted all this influence, they might perhaps have saved 
 More's life. But it is pretty clear that the queen never 
 made such an attempt, or Henry could not have reproach- 
 
 * More.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 259 
 
 ed her in this manner; and it is too probable that neither 
 her majesty nor the bishop used every endeavour in their 
 power to prevent an execution, Avhich fixes an indehble 
 odium upon all the reformers who consented to it. 
 
 We have at least very ample testimonies remaining to us, 
 that the sacrifice of More made an impression, far be3'ond 
 the limits of his own country, and of deeper stamp than it 
 hath often been in the power of an individual to leave, 
 who, like More, hath been conspicuous chiefly by his vir- 
 tues in civil life. ]Many learned of Christendom, protest- 
 ants as well as catholics, who neither feared Henry as their 
 tyrant, nor hated him from private motives of animosity, 
 have animadverted strongly on the cruelty of the knight's 
 execution. 
 
 Upon his friend Dr. Lark, at that time rector of Chel- 
 sea, More's death is said to have had so much influence, 
 that he soon afterward suffered death also, for denying the 
 king's supremacy.* 
 
 Mr. Roper relates, that when the emperor CharJes re- 
 ceived intelligence of More's execution, he sent for Sir 
 Thomas Ehott, the English ambassador at his court, and 
 said to him, we understand that the king your master hath 
 put his faithful and gi-ave counsellor to death. Eliott re- 
 plied, he knew nothing of the matter. JVell, said the em- 
 peror, it is too true. And this uill u'e say; that had ue 
 
 * More and Stow.
 
 940 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 been master of such a servant (of whose doings ourselves havt 
 had these many years no small experience), zse would rather 
 have lost the best city of our dominions, than have lost such a 
 worthy counsellor. This anecdote, Mr. Roper adds, Sir Tho- 
 mas Eliott reported to himself, to his wife, and to other 
 friends. 
 
 CarcUnal Pole, to whom Italy, notwithstanding his rela- 
 tionship to Henry, was the seat of safety, in his book pro 
 unitate ecclesiastica, written in answer to Dr. Sampson's 
 justification, by royal authority, of Henry's proceedings, 
 compares ^Slore's death to that of Socrates. I have seen, 
 saith Pole, even the greatest strangers, who never knew him, 
 never shared his favour, so much affected by his death, that 
 when they read the history of it, they could not withhold their 
 tears; and they wept at the fatne only of his fate. And I 
 at this distance, when writing oj his death, although I was 
 not bound to him by any private ties, but loved and esteemed 
 him j-ather for his virtue and probity, and because I knew his 
 service to his country, yet God is my witness that I shed in- 
 voluntary tears, which so impede my pen and blot my letters, 
 that I proceed with difficulty."^ 
 
 Erasmus, without naming Henry, remarks on the occa- 
 sion, Plato went unhurt by the iEginans, Diogenes by Phi- 
 lip of Macedon ; Antony is hated for the murder of Cicero ; 
 Nero for the death of Socrates.-f* 
 
 * Lib. iii. t Ep'st- Nucer.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 2H 
 
 We uill add one, among many more similar testimonies, 
 by Paulus Jovius, in his own words. 
 
 ' Fortuna impotens, et suo more instabilis, infaustaque 
 virtuti, si unquam superbe et truculenter jocata est, sub 
 Henrico VIII nuper in Britannia immanissime desa^viit; 
 prostrate ante oculos Th. Moro, quem rex, paulo ante, 
 praeclarus, eximine virtutis admirator, ad summos honores 
 extulerat, ut inde cum, fatali oborta insania mulatus in 
 feram, crudeli mox impetu praicipitem daret, quod ipsius 
 furcntis tyranni nefariaj libidini, vir omnibus religionis at- 
 que justitiae numeris longe optimus atque sanctissimus, adu- 
 lari noluisset. Dum enim ille uxorem repudiarc, pellicem 
 inducere, filiamque (Mariam) magno probro abdicare pro- 
 peraret, Morus, scrinii maglster, pietatis ac innocentiaj suae 
 reus, causam ad tribunal dicere coactus, impio judicio ita 
 damnatus est, uti latronum more, teterrimo supplicii ge- 
 nere, necaretur ; nee fas esset dilacerata membra, propin- 
 quorum pietate, sepelire. Sed Henricus, vel hoc uno fa- 
 cinore Phalaridis tiemulus, eripere non potuit, quin ad sem- 
 piternam inusitati sceleris memoriam Mori nomeu in Uto- 
 pia perenni constantia? laude frueretur/ * 
 
 The features of More's character are too strongly mark- 
 ed and prominent, to permit us to have gone thus far into 
 the memoirs of his life, without being pretty fully acquaint- 
 ed with it. In a general view, however, of the biography 
 of even so peculiar a character as this, some traits will be 
 
 * Elog. doct. tiror. 
 
 Vol. I. li
 
 am MEMOIRS OF 
 
 found to have less strongly impressed our attention as \vc 
 proceeded, than tiic weight and worth of them may on a 
 closer view appear to demand ; and we may here be aliow^- 
 ed to devote a few pages to a n)ore particular review of 
 certain points in that which is under our present considera- 
 tion. 
 
 More's icligion naturally presents itself as a prominent 
 feature on this occasion ; in reference to which he hath 
 been pronounced a \CTy priest, and that here his faculties 
 •were so enveloped, as to render him a weak and credulous 
 enthusiast. 
 
 The assertion may perhaps, however, be allowed to be 
 little hazardous, that ]\I ore's bigotry hath proved a foil to 
 his character, and that without it, he might have appeared 
 less interesting on the whole in the eye of posterity. Born, 
 as he had the misfortune to be, in an age of ignorance and 
 superstition, at the very dawn of learning in our island, 
 his ideas of religion, as Avell as those of his contemporaries, 
 naturally | artock of the times in which he lived. And to 
 those limes, and to the genius of the superstition in wliich 
 he had been educated, Ave may very clearly attribute this 
 part ot the knight's chaiacter. 
 
 Erasmus saith of More in one place, that he was rather 
 superstitious than irrelgious, and in another place, that he 
 was extremely remote Irom all superbtiuon.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 2^3 
 
 It hath frequently been remarked of the knight also, 
 tliat in his youth he was free from that degree of bigotry, 
 which grew upon him as he advanced in years. 
 
 Yet we know that such was his addiction early in life to 
 monkish discipline, that he wore secretly a hair-shirt next 
 his skin, frequently fasted, slept on a bare plank, and some- 
 times even scourged himself. These practices he continued 
 even when he was chancellor, though, as Mr. Roper in- 
 forms us, he zooiild appear like other men in his apparel and 
 oiitzmi-d behaviour. His daughter Margaret was his sole 
 confidant in these peculiarities. She was in the habit of 
 washing with her own hands this hair-shirt for her father, 
 and he sent it to her the day before his execution.* 
 
 ' His accustomed manner alway was,' saith Mr. Roper, 
 ere he entered into any matter of importance, as when he 
 was first chosen of the privy-council, when he was sent am- 
 bassador, appointed speaker of the parliament-house, made 
 chancellor, or when he took any other like weighty matter 
 upon him, to go to church to be confessed, to hear mass 
 and be houseled.' 
 
 The great-grandson adds, that being once sent for by the 
 king upon urgent business while he was at mass, More re- 
 fused to stir till it was over, saying he inust Jirst serve God 
 and then the king. ^Vith which conduct, Ave are farthe;- in- 
 formed, that Henry had the merit to be pleased. 
 
 * Roper and More. 
 
 li 2
 
 eu MEMOius or 
 
 The private devotions of More, as well at lionic as in his 
 chapel, were also observed with the strictest regularity. 
 His family and servants were re(|uired to participate in them 
 daily, and with peculiar attention upon particular occa- 
 sions. These oliservances appear to have brought those 
 blessings upon his household, to which the true piety of 
 them was entitled. A marked good forttine, saith Erasmus, 
 attends the servants of that house. And his biographers 
 have gone so far as to assert, that the pra^'ere of the knight, 
 when his favourite daughter was at the point of death in 
 the sweating sickness, produced the liappy effect of sug- 
 gesting to his miud a remedy, which very unexpectedly led 
 to the re-establishment of her health. 
 
 Although a part of More's piety may have been in com- 
 pliance with the manners of the age, it is sufficiently evi- 
 dent that he had a natural propensity to devotion. Tliis, 
 with all the virtues of Christianity in liis deportment, gave 
 a pleasing uniformity to his public and private life. And 
 before we decide that his austerity, under the notion of re- 
 ligion, derogated from his general good sense, let ns advert 
 once more to the times in which he lived, soon after the re- 
 surrection of letters, when ignorance of scripture and bi- 
 gotry to the catholic church had overspread the world. 
 More inflicted not his penances upon hiniself with the ab- 
 surd view of commuting them lor wilful vices ; his inten- 
 tions were certainly good, and all that we have to excuse 
 is, his manner of complying Avith his religion. It is true 
 that he appears to have had dilierent sentiments in his
 
 SIR T. MORE. 245 
 
 youth when he wrote his Utopia, and we are nowhere in- 
 formed why he thought more superstitiously afterward ; 
 but we must remember that were there no shades in this 
 great character, it would no longer be that of man. Bur- 
 net observes of this conduct in More, that it can only be 
 accounted-for by ascribing it to the intoxicating charms of 
 that relio-ion, Avhich can darken the clearest understandings 
 and corrupt the best natures. 
 
 Notwithstanding More's strong prejudice against the 
 king's supremacy, he was certainly not so extravagant as 
 some were, in his notions of the papal power. In his Con- 
 futation of Tindal he writes, that he never considered the 
 pope as a part of the definition of the church, but that he 
 defined the church to be the common known congregation of 
 all christian nations, under one head the pope. Nay, he af- 
 terward atiirmeth that a general council is above the pope, 
 and that there are orders in Chrises church by which a pope 
 may he both admonished and ametided, and hath been for in- 
 corrigible mind and lack of amendment finally deposed and 
 changed* This is the very conclusion maintained by Wic- 
 lif, and which was condemned by the council of Constance. 
 More seemeth to have thought that a pope was not of the 
 essence of the visible church, but that that church mio-ht 
 subsist without a pope, under the government of provincial 
 patriarchs or archbishops. 
 
 * Eng. works, p. 615, 621.
 
 246 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 The maxim of Horace 
 
 ■ ridcntem diccre vcruni 
 
 Quid vetat ? 
 
 was SO stedfastly embraced by More, that his propensity to 
 jesting hath frequently been censured by those, who had 
 evidently a very small portion of his wit. One of our chro- 
 niclers, Hall, with more ill-nature than wit, hath even gone 
 so far as to call him on this account a wise foolish man, or a 
 foolish wise man ; which severe sentence occasioned the i'ol- 
 Jowing epigrams in vindication of the knight. 
 
 Halle, tibi Morus stultus sapicnsque vidctur : 
 Stultus crat mundo ncmpc, Ueo sapiens. 
 
 Wise foolish, foolish zcise. 
 
 To More be (illcs given 
 
 Lei earth (lie fool despise 
 
 His wisdom found liini Jjeaven. 
 
 We have the satisfaction to learn from a letter of his friend 
 Erasmus, that More did not love an ill-natured jest w hich 
 gave another person pain. It is also related of him, that 
 he never lauglicd at his own jokes ; but spoke on tl)ese oc- 
 casions with so much gravity, that lew could discover by 
 his look whether he was jesting or serious. 
 
 The witty sayings attributed to More Avould form an ex-
 
 SIR T. MOIIK. 217 
 
 tensive collection, if we attempted to embrace all of them 
 which are now extant. An instance or two, in addition to 
 those which have already occurred to our notice, may here 
 amuse the reader. 
 
 When one of the family of Manners said to More ' Jio- 
 nores mutant Mores,' the knight readily retorted upon him, 
 that it was true in English ; lor then it applied to Man-^ 
 ners. 
 
 When a debtor to the knight, upon being asked to dis- 
 charge his claim, expatiated on the uncertamty of this life, 
 and the inutility of money in the grave, concluding pomp- 
 ously, memento morieris, More answered him, memento Mori 
 arts. 
 
 When one of his friends brought More an ill-written 
 work, to receive his opinion of it previously to its publica- 
 tion, the knight told hun gravely it would be better in verse. 
 The man took home his book, versified it, and brought it 
 again to More. Yea marry, said the knight, now it is some- 
 what, for now it is rhyme ; bejore, it zc/as neither rhyme nor 
 reason. 
 
 When an arrogant fellow at Bruges had given it out that 
 he would aivswer whatever question could be proposed to 
 him in any art whatever, More caused to be put-up utrum 
 averia ca[jta in Withernamia sunt irreplegiabilia ; adding, 
 that there was a person in the retinue of the English am-
 
 248 Mi:.M(>n{.s or 
 
 bassador who wouUl dispute with him on the ijucslion. 
 These hiw terms were worse than Coptie to the bragga- 
 docio ; who knew not what reply to make, and was laugh- 
 ed at. 
 
 As to the following anecdote related by ISIore's great- 
 grandson, sitjidcs penes auctores. From what wc have seen 
 of the early acquaintance of More and Erasmus, the cir- 
 cumstances do not appear to be very proijable. 
 
 It is reported that he who conducted Erasmus to Eng- 
 land, contrived that More and he should first meet in Lon- 
 don, at the lord mayor's Udjle, neither of them knowing 
 the other. At diimcr-time they fell into argument, and 
 Erasmus was so shar])ly opposed by More, that at last he 
 exclaimed with some choler, aiit tu Morns es ant nidlus. 
 More readily replied, ant tu es Erasmus aut Diabolus. 
 
 This story hath also been related thus. More being at 
 the lord mayor's table, word was brought him that a fo- 
 reigner inquired for liim. As dinner was nearly over, the 
 lord mayor ordered one of his officers to take care of the 
 gentleman and give him what he liked best. The officer 
 took Erasnms into the lord mayor's cellar, where he chose 
 to eat oysters and drink wine (drawn, as the custom then 
 was, into leathern jacks). On coming to More he saluted 
 him in Latin; 
 
 More, — U7ide venis ? 
 
 : y--
 
 SUl T. MOllB. -ij^ 
 
 Erasmus, — Ex inferis. 
 
 More, — Quid ibi agitur ? 
 
 Eras. — Vivis vescuiitur et hibunt ex ocreis. 
 
 More, — An tu me noscis ? 
 
 , X'- ' 
 
 .Eras. — Aut tu es Morus aut nullus. 
 
 More, — Et tu es aut Deus aut Dc£mo7i, aut incus Erasmus. 
 
 One of More's ludicrous actions was, to employ a cut- 
 purse to rob a justice while he sat on the bench, who had 
 expressed an opinion that none except careless fools could 
 be served so. 
 
 More was also delighted whenever he found wit in those 
 with whom he conversed. Strype, who, as we have seen, 
 hath repeated more than he could have proved of the 
 knight's cruelty to the reformers, tells us, in his memorials, 
 he had read in an old manuscript, that More, examining 
 a protestant whose name was Silver, told him in his jesting 
 way silver must be tried in thejire. But quicksilver, replied 
 the culprit, will not abide it. With this ready answer, adds 
 Strype, the knight was so delighted, that he dismissed him. 
 And the anecdote certainly proves, against Strype's own 
 hypothesis, that More's cruelty was at least not such, as to 
 be propitiated with difficulty. 
 Vol. I. K k
 
 250 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 More's behaviour in the last scene of this lite, hath been 
 censured by some as too hght and ludicrous lor the occa- 
 sion. But the fact probably is, that tliis behaviour was so 
 natural to him, and the consciousness of his integrity gave 
 him such satisfaction and courage, that the scene was even- 
 less mournful to the criminal than to many of his specta- 
 tors. M. de S'. Evremont dwells on the courage and con- 
 stancy of Pctronius Arbiter in his last monjcnts, and thinks 
 he discovers in them more firmness and resolution, than in 
 the deaths of Seneca, Cato, or even Socrates. Our own 
 Addison hath observed on this, that tf he was so pleased 
 with gaiety of humour in a dying man, he might have found, 
 a much nobler instance of it in Sir Thomas More. 
 
 • This gi-eat and learned man,' observes that chaste and' 
 correct writer, ' was famous for enlivening his ordinary dis- 
 courses with wit and pleasantry ; and, as Erasmus tells him 
 in an epistle dedicatory, acted in all parts of life like a se- 
 cond Democritus. lie died upon a point of religion, and 
 is respected as a martyr by that side for which he suffered. 
 That innocent mirth which had been so conspicuous in his 
 life, did not forsake him to the last. Pie maintained the 
 same cheerfulness of heart upon the scaffold, which he used 
 to shew at his table ; and, upon laying his head on the 
 block, gave instances of that good humour with which he 
 had alway entertained his friends in the most ordinary oc- 
 currences. 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 liis head from his body as a circumstance
 
 SIR T. MORE. 251 
 
 which ought to produce any change in the disposition of 
 his mind ; and as he died under a fixed and settled hope 
 of immortality, he thought any unusual degree of sorrow 
 and concern improper on such an occasion as had no- 
 thing in it which could deject or terrify him. There is no 
 great danger of imitation fi-om this example, — men's na- 
 tural fears will be a sufficient guard against it. I shall on- 
 ly observe, that what was philosophy in this extraordinary 
 man, would be frenzy in one who dotli not resemble him 
 as Avell in the cheerfulness of his temper as in the sanctity 
 of his life and manners.'* 
 
 More was charitable to the poor, he despised riches, and 
 though he had opportunities, he had no inclination, to lay- 
 up for himself treasures on earth. On his disinterested- 
 ness Mr. Roper in this manner expresseth himself. ' Thus 
 did it, by his doings throughout the whole course of his life, 
 appear, that all his travail and pains, without respect of 
 earthly commodities either to himself or any of his, were 
 only upon the service of God, the prince and the realm 
 wholly bestowed and employed. Whom I heard in his lat- 
 ter time to say, that he never asked of the king for himself 
 the value of a penny.' 
 
 Of his integrity when chancellor we can have no strong- 
 er proof, that that Henry had nothing to allege against 
 him; and we can hardlv entertain a doubt that the kino- 
 would have embraced such an opportunity with alacrity in 
 
 * Spectator, N°. 349. 
 
 Kk2
 
 iJi32 ME^fOlRS OF 
 
 .^lore's adversity, had the knight aftoided him one. Mi. 
 JRopcr rchites an instance or two of attempts to criminate 
 him in this particuhir, all of which, we sluill find, Scl'vctl 
 only to fix more strongly the character of his integrity. 
 
 He had made a decree against Parnell at the suit of 
 Vaughan, and was accused of having received a gilt cup, 
 as a bribe, of Vauohan's wife. Beino; summoned before 
 the council, More gravely confessed, forasmuch as that cup 
 was, long after the aforesaid decree, brought him for a new~ 
 year's gift, he, upon the importunate pressing upon him there- 
 of, of courtesy refused not to take it. Here Lord Wiltshire, 
 i\nn Boleyn's father, exclaimed in triumph, Lo, did t not 
 teU ye my lords that ye should find this matter true f More 
 desired their lordships, as they had heard him courteously 
 tell one part of his tale, they nould vouchsafe, of their ho- 
 nours indifferently to hear the other. He then declared, that 
 although he had indeed with much difficulty received the 
 cup, yet imnicdiatcly thereupon he caused his butler to 
 fill it with wine and he drank to the lady. When she had 
 pledged him, he gave her the cup again, that she migl)t 
 gi\e it to her husband as a new-year's gift from him ; and, 
 at his urgent request, though much against her will, she 
 at last received it. Vaughan's wife, and other witnesses 
 present, confirmed his statement. 
 
 l\!rs. Croker, a widow, for whom with much difficulty 
 he ii.id made a decree in chancery against Lord Arundel, 
 brought him for a new-year's gift a pair of gloves coutain^v
 
 SIR T. MORE. §53 
 
 tng forty pounds in angels. Mistress, said More, since it 
 zvere against good manyiers to forsake a gentlewoman's nezi)- 
 year's gift', I oni content to take your gloves ; but as for your 
 money, I utterly refuse it. 
 
 A Mr. Gi'esham also, having a cause depending in 
 chancer}^ sent More a gilt cup, the fashion of which the 
 linight greatly admired. He therefore ordered one of his 
 own cups, Avhich was inferior in beauty, yet superior in 
 value, to be brought to him, and desired the messenger to 
 present it to his master ; on which condition alone he would 
 receive the other. 
 
 Of More's confidence in his integrity, and his contempt' 
 of slander in his prosperity, Mr. Roper relates this instance. 
 * The water bailif of London (sometime his servant) hear- 
 ing, where he had been at dinner, certain merchants liberal-- 
 ly to rail against his old master, waxed so discontented, 
 therewith, that he hastily came to him and told him what 
 he had heard. And zcerc I, sir, quoth he, in such favour 
 and authority uith my prince as you are, suc?i men surely 
 should not be suffered so villainously and falsely to misreport 
 and slander me. Wherefore I would zvish you io call them, 
 before you, and to their shatnefor their letvd malice to punish, 
 them. 
 
 More replied, with a smile, rt/??/, Mr. Watcrbailif xvould 
 you have me punish them by whom I receive more benefit than . 
 by you all who be my jricnds? Let them in God's name speak-
 
 954 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 as lewdly as they list of mCy and shoot never so many o/rozk^^, 
 at me ; as long as they do not hit me, zc;hat am I the worse ? 
 But if they should once hit me, then would it indeed a little 
 trouble me. Howbeit I trust, by God's help, there shall none 
 of them once be able to touch me, — I have more cause, I as- 
 sure you Mr. Waterbailif, to pity them, than to be angry with 
 them. 
 
 More appears in fact, either by nature or religion, to 
 have attained to so correct a conduct, that neither the hope 
 pf profit or popularity, nor the fear of loss or of evil tongues, 
 could allure or deter him in his duty. In all his fortunes, 
 good and bad, he seems still to have enjoyed one and the 
 same equabilitj'. In his mind, no minister who was inno- 
 cent of a charge alleged against him, would treat his ac- 
 cusers with insolence or persecute them Avith power. In- 
 stead of exercising his authority, when he had it, in crush- 
 ing or even silencing those who opposed or slandered hini, 
 he thought, that when their arrows did not hit him he re- 
 ceived more benefit from them than from the caresses of 
 his friends. 
 
 And here let us pay the tribute of respect so justly due 
 to More's early and disinterested pubhc virtue as a patriot 
 minister. In him we have an instance of a man of the first 
 abilities in the kingdom, who, without patrimony or any 
 other subsistence than that derived from his profession, had 
 the courage and integrity to oppose the measures of the 
 king and his ministers, when he deemed those measures
 
 SIR T. MORE. 2S5 
 
 prejudicial to his country. And this in a reign, in which 
 such opposition, so far from being customary or conducive 
 to advancement, Avas seldom seen, and almost as seldom 
 went unpunished. 
 
 His motive loo, -was solely to prevent oppression and in- 
 justice ; and no bribe or advancement could bring him to 
 change his conduct, as is too often done,, and promote the 
 measures which he had before condemned. When places 
 ■were conferred upon him without his solicitation, he stiU 
 retained his integrity to his country, though his prince was 
 one of the most impatient of contradiction that ever filled 
 our throne. The idea, as well as name, of patriot, sunk 
 uot in him so soon as he had attained to affluence ; nor did 
 he crowd the posts of public service with his relatives. 
 Neither wavering between the measures of the king and 
 people, nor, under colour of serving his country, intending 
 only to acquire power and promote private interest, pa- 
 triotism shone in him with a real lustre, not, as it too com- 
 monly doth, with a temporary and uncertain blaze. 
 
 Queen Catharine used to say, that Henry had only one 
 sound counsellor in his kingdom, and that was More ; the 
 rest either spoke as the king would have them, or were in- 
 ferior to More in. judgment; and as for Wolsey, who was 
 then the first subject in the realm, to answer his own ends 
 he cared not what counsel he gave the king.* 
 
 f More,
 
 256 JIEMOIIIS OF 
 
 The dignity which More had borne with so mucli temper, 
 he resigned with unfeigned jo}'. Although he might not 
 have objected to have seen the pope's illegal Jtnisdiclion in 
 England cut off, and therefore might go cheerfully along 
 with the suit of Praemunire, yet when he perceived how 
 far the king's designs went, and that a total rupture was 
 likely to follow, he retired from office with a greatness of 
 mind hardly inferior to what the ancient philosophers have 
 pretended on similar occasions. The cause too of the king's 
 divorce he might think just, and therefore favour it while 
 it was agitated at Rome ; but when he saw a breach with 
 that court likely to follow, he at once relinquished his lofty 
 station. His retirement to private life might have been 
 deemed a fall great enough ; and t\^e extent to which Henry 
 cairied his resentment on this occasion, is certainly one of 
 the foulest leproaclies of liis reign.* 
 
 But More's sentiments were those of a mind sublimed 
 above all i'cehngs of sense. Liberty, riches, nay, even life, 
 were dross in his esteem, compared with peace of con- 
 science and eternal salvation. Christian and philosopher, 
 he viewed the ol>jects of sense with supreme indifference, 
 and having set his affections most stedfastlj' on the things 
 above, he ardently desired his translation to them. His 
 great example affords us a very superior lesson of fortitude 
 vmder suffering for conscience sake, of contempt of a life 
 of flesh in itself short and transitory, and of resignation to 
 
 « See Burnet.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 257 
 
 the will of heaven under the most trying afflictions of hu- 
 manity. 
 
 Mr. Roper informs us that in the sixteen years cluriuf^ 
 which he was an inhabitant of his father-in-law's house, lie 
 (lid not once see More in a fume. Margaret Gigs, who 
 was brought-up with More's children, said that she some- 
 times committed a fault for the purpose of hearing Sir Tho- 
 mas chide her, he did it in so grave, and at the same time 
 in so moderate, so loving, and so compassionate a manner. 
 Erasmus likewise informs us of his intimate friend, comi- 
 tate toiam familimn moderatur, in qua nulla tragcedia, nulla 
 rixa. And though More was obliged to maintain many 
 servants, he is said never to have suffered any of them to 
 be idle. He ever invented and assigned some avocation or 
 other to each of them when they were not attendant upon 
 him, that they might avoid sloth, gaming, and those pro- 
 tlio;ate habits in general of which idleness is the source.* 
 
 Should any incline to infer that More at any period of 
 his life became austere and splenetic, given wholly to de- 
 votion and philosophy, and without amusement or a taste 
 for pleasure, they will greatly misconceive his character. 
 His pleasures, it is true, were innocent and rational, be- 
 coming a christian and a philosopher ; yet he had a heart 
 for friendship and conviviality, and for every social feeling 
 of our nature. ' Some,' Erasmus writes in one of his let- 
 ters to More, ' take great care not to be cheated by coun- 
 
 * More, 
 
 Vol. I. LI
 
 258 :mi:-moii{s of 
 
 teifeit jewels ; but you, despising such trifles, account your- 
 self rich inclecd if you can find u true friend. No man 
 taketh so uuich delight in cards, dice, diess, hunting, or 
 music, as you do in conversing with a well-infornied and 
 pleasant companion.' * 
 
 From IMorc's great-grandson we learn, that he seldom 
 feasted the great, but his poor neighbours often ; nlioin he 
 would visit in their houses and bcstoio upon t/uiii his large li- 
 beraliti/, not groats, but erouns of gold ; and zv/ien he zcas a 
 private lazcyer, he zcould take no fees of poor folks, zcidows, 
 nor pupils. The ignorant and the proud, even in the high- 
 est stations, were those to whom he was observed to shew 
 the least respect. On the other hand, he was a friend and 
 patron to every man of letters, and he maintained episto- 
 lary correspondence with most of the leained in Christen- 
 dom of his day. 
 
 His chief foible is said to have been an affectation of sin- 
 gularity ; and he is even accused of having worn his gown 
 awry, that one shoulder might appear higher than the other. 
 Cranmer also intimateth, that More was so desirous of 
 esteem, that having once spoken his mind, he would never 
 deviate therefrom, for fear of injuring the credit of his 
 judgment. But these alleged weaknesses sound too nmch 
 like the invidious censures which ever attend u})on distinc- 
 tion ; and if they be with truth attributable to More, they 
 must after all be pronounced to be of too trivial a nature 
 
 * Farrag. £pi$t. p. 536.
 
 SIR T. IMOUr. 259 
 
 for our serious atiimaclvcrsioii, when opposed to the nobler 
 features of his sterUng character. 
 
 To what study soever Sir Thomas applied himself, saith his 
 great-grandson, he grew in short time most famous therein. 
 He then coniplimenteth the knight's talent for poetry even 
 in his youth, his skill in rhetoric, the purity of his Latin 
 style, and his patience for such a wit in stud3'ing the law. 
 Yet the same characteristic which distinguished ]\lore in 
 other respects, and which induced him to appear to the 
 world like his neighbours whatever his private habits and 
 opinions might be, marked his talents also. Arrogance or 
 overbearance were strangers to him ; and he ever seemed 
 more desirous of concealing, than of ostentatiously display- 
 ing, his talents. His own opinion of his writings was humble 
 in the extreme. Praise, vain glory, lucre, or worldly advance- 
 ment had certainly no influence on his pen, whatever Tindal 
 and others asserted. So that envenomed hooks might be once 
 suppressed and abolished, he wished his own on a light and 
 fair Jire. Of his Utopia he wrote, that he judged it no 
 better worth, than to remain hidden in his own island, or 
 to be consecrated to Vulcan ; and of his epigrams, you well 
 know, dear Erasmus, they never pleased me, and if others 
 had not liked them better than I do, they should never have 
 been published. 
 
 Powerful as he was in arguing upon any subject, it is re- 
 lated of him, that when he found a young opponent who 
 was unable to maintain his ground against him, rather than 
 
 LI 2
 
 2oO MK.MOIRS OF 
 
 to discourage rising merit, he would with ingenuity divert 
 the conversation into a difl'ercnt channel. Vet was this man 
 freciucntly appointed by the king, on account of his ready 
 talents, to make answer to the compliments paid to his 
 majesty when he visited his universities ; and whenever 
 More visited a university in his own country or abroad, he 
 not only attended their public disputations, but entered in- 
 to them himself. When Henry went over to meet the French 
 king, and when Charles V. landed in England, More was 
 appointed to make the gratulatory addresses.* 
 
 His celebrated political romance, Utopia, he wrote in 
 Latin about the year 1516. It speedily gained him great 
 applause over Europe, was translated into French, Italian, 
 Dutch, and English, and hath now stood the test of nearly 
 three centuries as a masterpiece of wit and fancy. It hath, 
 however, ex])erienced somewhat of a severe fate, in being 
 better known and more admired abroad, than by the au- 
 thor's own countrymen ; a circumstance which may in some 
 measure sanction its re-appearance in an English dress of 
 the day, though its merit is greater than to allow of its de- 
 living any advantage by translation. 
 
 It can hardly be questioned, that under this ingenious 
 fiction of a commonwealth, all his own notions of govern- 
 ment were promulgated by More. He creates a kingdom 
 in a new world, and obliquely ccnsureth the detects which 
 he had observed in the old one. More probably wrote this 
 
 * Roper and More.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 261 
 
 piece before he had heard of Luther ; and the Wicklevites 
 and Lollards were the only heretics then known in our 
 country. He gave his mind full scope in" it, and consider- 
 ed mankind and religion with the freedom of a true j)hilo- 
 sophcr. It i-> easy to collect from it, what his thoughts 
 then were of religion, the constitutions of the church, and 
 of the clergy at that time. Had he died then, he would 
 probably have been numbered with those, who though they 
 lived in the communion of the church of Rome, yet saw 
 her errors and corruptions, and only wanted fit opportuni- 
 ties of declaring themselves more openly for a reformation. 
 Upon farther knowledge, and more experience of men and 
 things, he appears to have materially changed many of his 
 sentiments ; and it is now not very easy, as we have already 
 remarked, to account how so great an alteration was etfect- 
 ed in him.* 
 
 More appears, by this piece, to have been an enemy to 
 the severity of our laws, and to have thought in this par- 
 ticular in the same charitable and reasonable way with his 
 mild and gentle friend Erasmus,-j' and with many others 
 even of our own da}^ 
 
 The History of King Richard III was written about 
 the year 1513, More being then one of the under sheriff's 
 of London. He wrote it in Latin as well as in Enahsh, 
 but it was never finished by liim. In the volume of his 
 English works it is printed from a copy said to have been 
 • See Burnet. f Tom. v. c. 167.
 
 962 Mi:.>rOIR.S OF 
 
 in liis own liaiulwriting ; and iVoni tluit vohune it is re- 
 printed in the incseut work, as a record of our history 
 which is httlc known, aiul which is certainly vahiablc if on- 
 ly on account of the writer. 
 
 More's great-grandson observes of this history, ii is so 
 well penned, that if oi/r chronicles of Ensiland uerc half so 
 xvell set-out, fhci/ noitld entice all Englishmen to read them 
 over often, adding somewhat extravagantly, that iio one 
 over adventured to finish the work, for the same reason that 
 the Venus of Apelles remained unfinished. 
 
 Above a century after More's death, George Buck took- 
 up the cudgels tor Richard, which of course made him 
 More's opponent in this work ; and above a century later, 
 came a noble speculator in our histor}-, who seconded this 
 advocate for a monster, and proved himself at least Buck's 
 cfjual in the love of paradox. The tbrmer's censure of 
 More's learning, and his other remarks, smell so strongly 
 of party, and he hath found so little credit as a writer, that 
 he cannot now be deemed worth}-^ of a serious repl}'. The 
 latter opponent, after allowing More's composition to be a 
 beautiful one, and the writer of it to be one of the honest- 
 est statesmen and brightest names in our annals, supposes 
 he wrote the tract, as he did his Utopia, to amuse his lei- 
 sure and exercise his fancy. He took-up a paltry canvas 
 and embroidered it with a jiowing design, as his imagination 
 suggested the colours ; and in the end, the honest statesman 
 is found gmlty, not only of invention and romance, but of
 
 SIR T. MORE. 203 
 
 palpable, material, nay, wilful falsehood. At one moment, 
 the great knight speaks truth ; in the next, he propagates 
 the most abominable lies. All writers, of whatever credit, 
 are respected or condemned, as tkey confirm or oppose the. 
 doubter's hypothesis ; and throughout the piece, the same 
 author from whom he produces exhibits to prove one asser- 
 tion, he challenges as foresworn to make M'ay for another. 
 
 Yet these conceits, however ingenious, have had little 
 or no effect in shaking the authority of More. The most 
 popular historian of our dixy pays him every respect ; our 
 judgments have not been convinced by flippancies ; and 
 Richard still remains the monster he was. 
 
 By a passage in this tract, it appears that More once 
 thought also of Avriting the history of Henry VII and of 
 Perkin Warbeck ; but it is probable that he either never 
 found leisure for accomplishing such a design, or felt that 
 the freedom of his pen might be in some measure fettered, 
 by the favour which he experienced from Henry \'11I. 
 
 Sir Thomas, although not to be numbered with Sanaz- 
 zaro, Fracastoro, Vida, and othere of his time, is allowed 
 to have been no indifferent poet ; and a more assiduous ap- 
 plication to the muses would probably have made lum a 
 superior one. His epigrams are highly commended by 
 Rhenanus, as will be seen by the epistle prefixed to them ; 
 and many authors beside Rhenanus have borne testimony 
 to their merit. Our own coiTcct and classical Jortin pro-
 
 2(54 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 nouncos the porni on ;i lady ol" whom Move liad been deejv 
 ly enaiiiourccl in his youth, to be the most pathetic and 
 elegant in the collection; the reason is obvious, his hand 
 was secretary to his heart. The short lines to Candidus, on 
 the choice ol" a wile, have also been greatly admired. For 
 the following translations of these poems, which cannot but 
 be acceptable to the reader, 1 am indebted to the same 
 distinguished hand which favoured me with the additional 
 translation of More's epitaph ; and I have added a version 
 or two of the knight's epigrammatic stile for the amuse- 
 ment of the merely English reader. 
 
 To Candidus. 
 
 EiNOUGu by vagrant love. 
 
 Dear j otitli you've been misled : 
 O ! rise (licac joys above, 
 
 And quit the lawless bed. 
 
 Some consort in your arms, 
 
 Heart link'd to lieart, embrace ; 
 Wbo with transmitted charms 
 
 Your lengthening line may grace. 
 
 So did for yoayour sire : 
 
 The ilebt, with interest due, 
 Postcrily require, 
 
 My Candidus, from you. 
 
 Nor be it chief your aim, 
 
 p'ortune or tace to seek ! 
 Slight love attenils the dune, 
 
 Sought lor her yursc or cheek.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 265 
 
 No purer love can bear 
 
 Tlic flame, which fortune fires ; 
 It vanishes in air, 
 
 And ere it lives, expires. 
 
 Nay, fortune's courted charms 
 Fade in the miser's grasp. 
 
 When doom'd within his arms 
 An unloved spouse to clasp. 
 
 And beauty's vaunted power 
 By fever's tooth decays ; 
 
 Or time-struck, like a flower 
 Beneath the solar blaze. 
 
 Then vows are urged in vain 
 With beauty's passing hue, 
 
 Bound singly by that chain, 
 Affection passes too. 
 
 But genuine is the love 
 
 Which reason, virtue rears — — 
 All fever's force above, 
 
 Above the assault of years. 
 
 First scrutinize her birth ; 
 
 Be sure her mother's mild : 
 Oft with her milk her worth 
 
 The mother gives her child. 
 
 Next in herself be seen 
 
 Good temper's gentlest tone : 
 
 Still placid be her mien. 
 Unruffled by a frown ; 
 
 Vol. I. Mm
 
 SOS AIEMOIIIS OF 
 
 And still, ber check's best charm, 
 Be hcr's sweet modesty ■— — 
 
 No lover-clasping arm, 
 
 No love-provoking eye. 
 
 Far from her lips' soft door 
 Be noise, be silence stern ; 
 
 And ber's be learning's store, 
 Or her's the power to learn. 
 
 With books she'll time Ijeguile, 
 And make true bliss her own ; 
 
 Unbuoycd by fortune's smile, 
 Unbroken by her frown. 
 
 So still, thy heart's delight 
 And partner of thy way, 
 
 She'll guide thy children right. 
 Where myriads go astray. 
 
 So, left all meaner things, 
 
 Thou'lt on her breast recline ; 
 
 While to her lyre she sings 
 
 Strains, Philomel, like thine: 
 
 While still thy raptured gaze 
 Is on her accents hung, 
 
 As words of honied graaj 
 
 Steal from her honied tonguo- 
 
 Words they, of power to soothe 
 All idle joy or woe 
 
 With learning's varied truth, 
 With eloquence's flow.
 
 SIR T. MORE, 2QT 
 
 Such Orpheus' wife, whose fate 
 With tears old fables tell ; 
 Or never would her mate 
 Have fetched her back from hell. 
 
 Such Naso's daughter, she 
 
 Whose muse with Naso's vied ; 
 And such might Tullia be, 
 
 Her learned father's pride. 
 
 The Gracchi's mother such. 
 
 Who train 'd the sons she bore ; 
 
 Famed as their mother raucli, 
 And as their tut'ress more. 
 
 • But what to distant days 
 
 My lingering glance confines 
 
 One girl, of equal grace, 
 
 E'en in this rude age shines : 
 
 Single, worth all, she stands 
 
 By fame through Britain flown, 
 
 Hail'd — gaze of other lands, 
 Cassandra of her own. 
 
 Say, would a maid so rare 
 
 Within thy arms repose ; 
 
 Were she, nor rich, nor fair, 
 
 Could'st thou decline her tows i 
 
 Enough of beauty her's. 
 
 With whom a husband's blest : 
 Enough of wealth she shares, 
 
 To whom enough's a feast. 
 
 Mm2
 
 968 .MKMOIRS 0^ 
 
 So lov'd, were she (I swear) 
 Than soot of darker die ; 
 
 I'd think her far, more fair, 
 Than e'er met mortal eye : 
 
 So lov'il, were she (I swear) 
 Than poverty more [xmc ; 
 
 I'd think lier richer far, 
 
 Than kinsrs with all their store.* 
 
 2o Eliza, whom he loved in youth. 
 
 Thou livest, Eliza, to these eyes restored, 
 
 more tlian lite in life's gay bloom adored ! 
 Many a long year, since first we met, has roU'd : 
 
 1 then was boyibli, and 1 now am old. 
 Scarce had 1 bid my sixteenth summer hail, 
 And two in thine were wanting to the taJe ; 
 When thy soft mien — ah mien for ever fled ! — 
 On my tranc'd heart its guiltless influence shed. 
 When on my mind thy mucli-Ioved image steals. 
 And thy swett long-lost former self reveals ; 
 Time's envious gripe appears but half unkind : 
 Torn from thyself, to me thou'rt left behind. 
 
 The grace, that held my doting glance, thougli flown, 
 Has flown thy cheek — to make my breast its throne : 
 And as by gentle blasts the flame is fed, 
 And 'mid cold ashes rears its languid head ; 
 So thou, though changed (ah ! changed indeed) to vie 
 Kindlest the love, that once was thine, anew. 
 Now on my memory breaks that happy day. 
 When first I saw thee with thy mates at play : 
 
 • See vol ii, p. 308.
 
 SIR T. .AIORE. 269 
 
 On thy white neck the flaxen ringlet lies, 
 
 With snow thy cheek, thy lip with roses vies. 
 
 Thine eyes, twin stars, with arrowy radiance shine, 
 
 And pierce and sink into my heart through mine. 
 
 Struck as with heaven's own bolt, I stand, I gaze ; 
 
 I hang upon thy look in tix'd amaze : 
 
 And as I writhe beneath the new-felt spear, 
 
 My artless pangs our young companions jeer. 
 
 So charm'd me thy fair form ; or woman grown, 
 
 Or from it's ripen'd grace as woman known. 
 
 AVhether the glow, that thrills our early frame, 
 
 Lit in my breast the undecaying flame ; 
 
 Or some kind planet at our natal hour, 
 
 Deign'd on our hearts it's common beam to pour : 
 
 For one, who knew with what chaste warmth you burn'd, 
 
 Had blabb'd the secret of my love return'd. 
 
 Then the duenna and the guarded door 
 
 Baffled the stars, and bade us meet no more. 
 
 Sever'd, ourdiiferent fates we thence pursued, 
 
 Till this late day my raptures has renewed : 
 
 This day, whose rare felicity I prize. 
 
 Has given thee safe to my delighted eyes. 
 
 Crimeless, my Iieart you stole in life's soft prime ; 
 
 And stQl possess that heart without a crime. 
 
 Pure was the love, w hich in my youth prevail'd ; 
 
 And age would keep it pure, if lionour fail'd. 
 
 O may the gods, who, five long lustres past, 
 
 Have brought us to each other well at last, 
 
 Grant that — when number'd five long lustres more 
 
 Healtliful 1 still may hail thee, heahhful as before ! * 
 
 * See ToL »i, p. 350.
 
 270 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Epigratns. 
 
 A squall arose ; the vessel's toss'd ; 
 The sailors fear their lives arc lost. 
 Our sins, our sins, dismayed they cry, 
 Have wrought this fatal destiny. 
 
 A monk it chanc'd was of the crew 
 And round him, fo confess, they drew. 
 Yet still the rcsllcss ship is fossM 
 And still they fear their lives are lost. 
 
 One sailor, keener than the rest, 
 Cries, with our sins she's still oppressM ; 
 Heave out that monk, who bears them all. 
 And then full well she'll ride the squall. 
 
 So said so done ; with one accord 
 They throw the caitilF overboard- 
 And now the bark before the gale 
 Scuds with light liuU and easy sail. 
 
 Learn hence the weight of sin to know, 
 With which a ship could hardly go.* 
 
 While Brag was out, his wife, so frail, 
 
 To Hodge, (he rustic yields. 
 Retum'd the cuckold hears the tale, 
 
 And storms into the iields. 
 
 Poor Hodge he finds, and draws his sword 
 
 A stone Hodge singles out 
 
 Wretch, with ray dearest wife you've wbot'd 
 
 I have, replies the lout. 
 
 • See vol. ii, p, 321.
 
 SIR T. M01{E» 271 
 
 You own it do you then, Brag cries, 
 'Tis well you speak the truth ; 
 
 By Jove, if you had told rae lies, 
 I'd hewn you limb from tooth !* 
 
 When the sun shines, but ope those rows 
 Of teeth, with all your power. 
 
 And then with that enormous nose 
 You'll gnomon-out the hour.+ 
 
 In the Leyden edition of the works of Erasmus, in the 
 appendix to Dr. Joitin's Life of Erasmus, and in the edi- 
 tions of More's Latin works, are to be found several of the 
 knight's Latin letters. It hath been justly remarked of 
 them, that though they be valuable on several accounts, 
 they have one small blemish, — they are more in the style 
 of orations than of epistles, and the peiiods are too long^ 
 and too embarrassed. 
 
 Of all More's writings, the controversial are indisputably 
 the most reprehensible. But in those days, as we have al- 
 ready had occasion to remark, the object was, not only to 
 endeavour to refute the arguments of the adversary, but 
 likewise to equal him in abuse. If ever More appeareth 
 to disadvantage, it is upon these occasions. The fact is, 
 when religion was the subject in agitation, he was no long- 
 er himself. His bigotry overcame every j)rinciple of good 
 sense, of decorum, of humanity. Like his adversary Luther, 
 * See vQj.ii, p. 314. f Ibid. p. 339.
 
 272 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 his zeal and impetuosity were too hard-mouthed horses, 
 M'hich ran away with the chariot and the charioteer, 
 
 Fruslra rclinacula tendons 
 
 Fertur equis auriga, neque audit currus habenas. 
 
 Thus it is remarked by bishop Atterbury, that, in his an- 
 swer to Luther, ISIorc forgot liimselt' so far, as to throw out 
 the greatest heap of nasty language which ever was put to- 
 gether ; that the book throughout is nothing l)ut downright 
 ribald r}', without a grain of reason to support it, and gave 
 the author no other reputation, than that of having the 
 best knack of any man in Europe at calling bad names in 
 good Latin. More's English tracts against Tindai, Barns, 
 ^c. deserve a similar censure, though he certainly wrote with 
 as much wit and eloquence as any writer of that age. lu 
 Lis Apology, printed in his English works, More endea- 
 Youreth to extenuate this conduct, by the bluntness of his 
 nature, and the example given him by his adversaries ; but, 
 one of his understanding doth not stand vindicated by such 
 arguments. 
 
 Burnet sailh of More that he was no divine at all, nor 
 conversant with the critical learning upon the scriptures ; 
 that his peculiar excellence in writing was, a natural, easy 
 expression, and he presented all the opinions of popery 
 Avith their fair side to the reader, disguising or concealing 
 the darker side with great art. He was also no less dexter- 
 ous in exposing all the ill consequences Avhich Avould follow
 
 SIR T. MORE. f78 
 
 on the doctrine of the reformers, and had pleasant tales 
 ready on all occasions, which he applied wittily to his pur- 
 pose. He wrote ratiier for the rabble than for the learned , 
 adds the bishop. 
 
 More's English works were published at London in a 
 thick folio volume in the year 1557, by order of queen 
 Mary ; in whose reign it was given-out as an extraordinary 
 circumstance, that king Edward died and she succeeded to 
 the crown on the anniversary of the knight's suffering on 
 the scaffold. More's nephew, William Rastell, then Ser- 
 jeant at law and afterward a judge, was patronised by her 
 majesty as editor of the work ; and had he written a Life 
 of the knight (as hath been supposed), it would surely have 
 been prefixed to the volume. As this book is now become 
 very scarce it may not be improper to recapitulate the con- 
 tents of it in this place. 
 
 Four short tbings written in his youth for his pastime. 
 
 The life of John Picus earl of Mirandula, translated out of Latin. 
 
 The history of king Richard III, unfinished. 
 
 A treatise (unfinished) upon these words of holy Scripture, memorare no-dsm 
 sima, et in eternum non peccabis. 
 
 A dialogue concerning heresies and laatters of religion. 
 
 The supplication of souls. 
 
 The confutation of Tindal. 
 
 Vol. L N n
 
 i»74 AinMoms or 
 
 A Icfter impu!!;nin£; tlic erroneous writing of John Frith against the blessed 
 srjcramcnt ol tlie iiltar. 
 
 The apolo^'y of .Sir Thomas More, kniijht, made by him Anno 1533, after 
 That he had given over tlie office of lord chancellor of EiyUnd. 
 
 The Dcbellacion of Salem and Bizancc. 
 
 A treatise upon the blessed sacrament of the altar. 
 
 A dialogue of comfort against tribulalion. 
 
 A treatise to receive the blessed body of our Lord sacranicntally and virlual- 
 ]y both. 
 
 A treatise upon the passion of Christ, unfinished. 
 
 An exposition of a part of the passion of our Saviour Jesus Christ. 
 
 Certain devout and virtuous instructions, meditations, and prayers, made 
 and collected while he was prisoner in the Tower. 
 
 Letters, his epitaph, &c. 
 
 Of More's Latin works, three editions have passed the 
 press. The first was printed at Basle in 8'", in 1563; the 
 second at Louvain in foho in 1566 ; the last and best was 
 published by C. Gensch in folio at Frankfort on the INIaine 
 and Leipsic in 1689. So few copies of the last edition are 
 to be found in this country, that a recapitulation of its con- 
 tents may be acceptable to the reader also. 
 
 Vita et obitns T. Mori e Thomae Stapletoni Tribus Thomis.. 
 Doctorum virorum varia epigrammata in laudem et mortem T. Mori. 
 Historia Richardi Anglia; ejus noniinis IlL
 
 SIR T. MORE. S75 
 
 T. Mori responsio ad convitia M. Lutlieri conpesta in Henricum regem 
 Auglix ejus uumiiiiii V'lli, sub Gulieliui Itossci numinc edua. 
 
 T. Mori ex posit io passionis Cliristi. 
 
 Quod pro fide mors fugienda iioii sit. 
 
 Pncalio tx Psalmis. 
 
 T. Mori Utopia. 
 
 T. IMori Poemata, quibus praemissa sunt quaedam ipsius et Guiielmi Lilii 
 progj mnaimata. 
 
 T. Mori dialogi Lucianei e Grsecis in Latinum sermonem conversi, adjecta 
 declaniatione qu;i Luciain TyrauniciiiaB rci'pondetur. 
 
 T. Mori et Erasmi episiote. 
 
 Of More's personal pecularities we are told, that though 
 his table was ever well supplied, he eal only of one dhh 
 himself, which was coninKjnlj salted meat. He used coarse 
 brown bread, and was toud of milk, cheese, eggs, and 
 fruit. \\ hatever disli he hrst tasted sc rved liim for his meal. 
 In his youth he is said to have abstained wholly from wine ; 
 but he w(juld taste it in his later years when diluted with 
 water, or when he pledged his friends. To recreate the 
 mind at the same time with the body, or perhaps to allow 
 more leisure and digestion to his meals, he employed a 
 person to read aloud while he sat at table, and he made 
 occasional remarks on the subjects which occurred.* 
 
 His dress never occupied his thought. M hen his secre- 
 
 • More. 
 
 Nn 2
 
 876 MHMOIRS OF 
 
 tary, Harris, once tokl him that his shoes were torn, Moie 
 desired him to tell his servant, who bouglit and ordered all 
 his apparel at his own discretion, and whom he called his 
 tutor, to buy him nexc ones. In matters of the utmost im- 
 portance we arc told he would consult his trusty Harris, 
 and that More olten submitted to iiis opinion, though his 
 own judgment might have led him to vary from it.* 
 
 More's great-grandson adds, that though low in statuic, 
 the knight's person was well-proportioned, — his complexion 
 tending to phlegmatic, his colour xchite and pale, his hair 
 neither black nor yellow but between both -j- ; Ids eyes grey, 
 his countenance amiable and cheerful, his voice neither big 
 nor shrill, but speaking plainly and distinctly, — it was not 
 very tuneable, though he delighted much in 7nusic ; his body 
 reasonably healthful, only that toward his latter end, by us- 
 ing much writing, he complained mucli of the ache of his 
 breast. 
 
 Holbein painted several family pieces for Sir Thomas, 
 most of which appear to have been presented to the knight's 
 friends abroad. One of the best of them is, however, at 
 present in this country, an heirloom in the family of Sir 
 Rowland Winn, which is allied to the Ropers. It is pro- 
 bably still preserved at the family residence, Nostal, in 
 Yorkshire. 
 
 More's family, as we have seen, consisted of three daugh- 
 
 * More. t Probably chesnut.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 277 
 
 ters and a son ; with whom he brought-up Margaret Gigs, 
 afterward married to Dr. Clement.* 
 
 Margaret, his eldest daughter, married William Roper, 
 Esq. of Well-hall, Eltham, Kent, and had issue, Thomas, 
 manied to Lucy, daughter of Sir Anthony Brown, master 
 of the horse, and privy-counsellor to Henry Vlll ; Anthony, 
 of whom we have no farther informatitjn ; Khzabeth, mar- 
 ried to Stevenson, Esq. and afterward to Sir Ed- 
 ward Bray, Knight; Margaret, married to William Dawtry, 
 Esq. ; and Mary, married to Stephen Clarke, Esq. and af- 
 terward to James Basset, Esq.-f- 
 
 Elizabeth, the second daughter, married John, son and 
 heir of Sir John Dancy, and had issue John, I'homas, Bar- 
 tholomew, William, German, Alice, and Elizabeth.^ 
 
 Cecilia, the third daughter, married Giles Heron, Esq. 
 of Shacklewell, Middlesex, and had issue John, Thomas, 
 and Ann.§ 
 
 John, the only son, married Ann, daughter and heiress 
 of Edward Cresacre, Esq. of Baronborough, Yorkshire, and 
 had issue Thomas, Austin, Edward, Bartholomew, another 
 Thomas, and Ann. || 
 
 It is said that the first wife of Sir Thomas, having had 
 three daughters, prayed most earnestly for a son. This son 
 
 * More. f Ropet by Lewis, J More. j Ibid. || Ibid. .
 
 97 S MEMOIRS OF 
 
 proved one of the heroiim jUii who are seldom equal to their 
 fathers, and tlie kniglit wunkl say, she iiad prayed so loiig 
 for a boy, tiiat she produced one at last who would be a 
 boy as lung as he live. I. lie was certainly less ornamental 
 to Flore's family than his sister Margaret ; but he had every 
 advanta<ie which a uood education could afVortl him, and 
 
 or? ' 
 
 Lis natural parts appear to have been considerably advan- 
 ced. Among the letters of Erasmus, is one addressed to 
 him, in which the good scholar stileth him, a youth of 
 great hope. 'J'he works of Aristotle also, printed in Creek 
 by Forben's heirs in 1J31, are dedicated to him by Eras- 
 mus; and those ot Plato, and other works, by Grynaeus. 
 
 Erasmus, ^^ho had frequently been an eye witness, stil- 
 eth More's house, a little habitation of the muses and an- 
 othei academy ot 1 lato. lie injures it, however, he adds, 
 h) ti.e comparison ; lor in Plato's academy they disputed 
 ot numbers and geometry, and only occasionally of moral 
 virtues ; but this house was appropriately a school of chris- 
 tian duty. Neither man nor woman was unemployed in 
 it, in hberal occupation or useful study ; though religion 
 ■was the chief objeit. Discord was a stranger; not a peevish 
 -word was heard, no one was seen idle. Each had his oc- 
 ciq^ation, all were cheerful, sober mirth prevailed; and the 
 master of the house maintained this excellent economy, 
 not by severity and chiding, but by gentleness and kind- 
 ness.* V\ hen the same gcat scholar, in his colloquy yii- 
 
 ♦ Farrag. Epist. lib. 27.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 279 
 
 baiis et Eruclitce nameth tlie Morica among certain learned 
 ladies, he evidently alludes to More's daughters. 
 
 The knight's favourite, ^Margaret, appears to have en- 
 joyed every advantage of an undeistanding strong by na- 
 ture and cultivated with peculiar attention. Costerius, in 
 his notes on Vincentius Lirinensis,* gives us an emenda- 
 tion by her of a passage in Cyprian, which is not unworthy 
 of the ablest critic. Slie also wrote two declamations in 
 English, which she and her father translated into Latin, 
 both with so much eloquence, that it was ditficult to pro- 
 nounce which of them deserved the preference. She wrote 
 a treatise of the Four Last Tilings, which Moi'e declared 
 to be better than one which he had written himself. Eris- 
 mus complimenteth her in a letter, for her learning, still 
 more than for her virtue or mannei's ; and when cardinal 
 Pole read one of her letters, he could not believe that it 
 was written by a woman.-j- 
 
 One of the effusions of her affection, addressed to her 
 father in prison, is here extracted from More's English 
 works. 
 
 Mrs. Roper to Sir Thomas More. 
 
 Mine own good Father ! 
 
 It is to me no little comfort, since I cannot talk w/th 
 you by such means as I would, at the leastvvay to delio-,.'; 
 
 • P. 47. - t More.
 
 290 RIEMOms OF 
 
 myself, in this bitter time ot" your absence by such menns 
 as I tnatj ; by as often writing to you as sliall be expe- 
 • diiMit, ajid by reading again and again your most fruitful 
 and delectable letter, the faitlilul messenger of your very 
 virtuous and ghostly mind, riti from all corrupt it)ve of 
 worldly things, and lasi knit only in the love of God and 
 desire of heaven, as becometh a very true worshipper and 
 a laithful servant of God. Who, I doubt not, good fatner, 
 boldeth his holy hand over you, and shall (as he hatli) pre- 
 serve you both body and stJid, \it sit mens sana in covpwe 
 sano ; and namely now, when you have abjected all earth- 
 ly consolations, and resigned yourself willingly, gladly, and 
 luily, tor his love, to his lioly protection. 
 
 Father, what think you hath been our comfort since your 
 departing from usf Surely the experience we have had of 
 your life past, and godly conversation, and wholesome coun- 
 sel, and virtuous example, and a suret}', not only of the 
 continuance of that same, but also a great increase, by the 
 goodness of our Lord, to the great rest and gladness of 
 your lieart, devoid of all earthly dregs and garnished with 
 the noble vesture of heavenly virtues, — a pleasant palace 
 for the holy spirit of God to rest in. W ho defend you (as 
 1 doubt not, good father, but of his goodness he will) from 
 all trouble of mind and of body, and give me your most 
 loving obedient daughter and handmaid, and all us your 
 children and friends, to follow that that we praise in you, 
 and to our only comfort remember and commune together 
 of you ; that vve may m conclusion meet with you, mine
 
 SIR T. MORE. 281 
 
 own dear futUcr, in the bliss of henven, to which our most 
 merciful Lord hath brought us with liis precious blood ! 
 
 Your owu most loving, obedient dauglitcr and bedeswoman, 
 
 MARGARRT HO PER, 
 
 who desireth above all worldly things to be in Jolm a 
 Wood's stead, to do you some service. But we live in hope 
 that we shall shortly receive you again, — I pray God hearti- 
 ly we may, if it be his holy will. 
 
 Mrs. Roper appears to have been no less attentive to the 
 education of her children, than her parents had been to 
 the cultivation of her own mind. The celebrated Roger 
 Ascham informs us, that she was very desirous of having 
 him for their instructor ; but he could not be prevailed up- 
 on at that time to leave the university. Her daughter Mrs. 
 Basset, was one of the ladies of queen Mary's privy-cham- 
 ber. This lady translated into English a part of her grand- 
 father's Exposition of our Saviour's passion ; and she imi- 
 tated his style so well, that it was thought to liave been 
 translated by the knight himself. 
 
 While we are upon this subject, it may not be uninterest- 
 ing to the reader to peruse a translation of one of More's 
 letters relative to the education of his children, as preserved 
 by Stapleton. 
 
 Vol. L o
 
 282 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Sir Thomas More to Goncllus. 
 
 ' T have received, my dear Gonellus, your letters, as 
 usual, liiU of elegance and affection. Your love of my 
 children I see by 3^our letters, your diligence I gather from 
 their own ; for each of their letters pleased me. But espe- 
 cially was I delighted, that Elizabeth behaved herself with 
 a decenc}' of demeanour in my absence which iew children 
 observe in the presence of their parents. Give her to un- 
 derstand that that circumstance delighted me more, than 
 could all the learning in the world. Tor 1 prefer the learn- 
 ing which is united Avith virtue, to all the treasures of kings; 
 and if we separate from it propriety of conduct, what else 
 doth the fame of letters bring us, than a kind of infamy 
 in notoriety ? This applieth peculiarly to the female sex. 
 Their proficiency in literature being something new, and a 
 certain reproach to the sluggishness of men, most men will 
 be ready to attack them, and to expend their natural ma- 
 lice upon their learning. Nay, they will call their own ig- 
 norance a virtue, when compared Avith the faults of these 
 learned. But, on the other hand, if a woman (which I 
 wish may be the case with all my girls, and in which I have 
 the greatest coniidence under your auspices), to great ex- 
 cellence of character unite even a moderate portion of learn- 
 ing, I deem her possessed of more real good, than if sIkj 
 had the wealth of Croesus and the beauty of Helen. 
 
 ' And this not for the sake of fame, althougli she pur--
 
 SIR T. MORE. S8J 
 
 sueth worth as doth the shadow the body. But because 
 tlie reward of wisdom is more substantial than to be borne 
 away on the wings of riclies, or to fade with beauty ; since 
 it placeth its dependence on rectitude of conscience, not 
 on the tongues of others, which abound in folly and evil. 
 For as the avoiding- of infamy is the duty of a good man, 
 so the laying himself out for fame, is the part not onlv of 
 a proud, but of a ridiculous and contemptible one ; since 
 that mind must of necessity be ill at ease, which ever tluc- 
 tuateth between joy and sadness from the opinions of others. 
 But of the great benefits which learning conferreth on man, 
 I reall\f deem none preferable to the instruction vhich let- 
 ters afford us, that in the attainment of them we regard 
 not the reputation they bring us, but their utility. Which 
 precept, although some have abused their learning, like 
 other good possessions, by hunting only for vain glory and 
 popular fame, yet hath it been delivered by ail the most 
 learned, and especially by the philosophers, those modera- 
 tors of human life. 
 
 * I have enlarged the more on this subject of vain glorj', 
 my Gonellus, because of the expression in your letter, that 
 you think the elevated cast of my daughter Margaret's 
 mind should not be lowered. I agree with you in this opi- 
 nion. But in my mind, and I doubt not in yours also, he 
 seems to lower the noble disposition of his njind, who ac- 
 custometh himself to admire what is vain and base. And 
 he, on the other hand, to elevate it, who esteemeth virtue 
 and ti'ue good; who, by contemplating sub'ime objects, look- 
 
 Oo 2
 
 884 MEMOIIIS Of 
 
 eth clown as from on liit;l),with disregard, on tliose shadows 
 of good, which almost all, in ignorance, greedily catch at, 
 for the substance. 
 
 ' As this seemed to me the best way, I have not only 
 rccjuested you my dear Gonellus, whose strong love to all 
 mme would have led you 1 know to have done so ot your 
 own accord, not only my wile, to whom her true maternal 
 piety is a sufHcient unpulse as 1 have ollen witnessed, but 
 I have frequently besought almost ail of my triends also, 
 that they niisiht after ^ard admonish my children, that, 
 avoiding the precipices of pride, tliey valk m the pleasant 
 meads of modesty ; that the sight of riches overcome them 
 not ; that they sigh not for the want of that in themselves 
 ivhich is erroucoublv admiied b^ others; that tlicy think 
 lio better of themselves lor bt ing well dressed, nor worse 
 for being otherwise, that they s})oil not the beauty which 
 nature gave them by neglect, noi endeavour to mcrease it 
 by vile arts; that they esteem \irtue the hrst, letters the 
 second good ; and that ot these they esteem those the best, 
 which can best teach them piety to God, chaiit} to man, 
 modesty and christian humility in their own deportment. 
 
 ' Thus shall they receive fnnn the Almighty the reward 
 of an innocent lile ; in the certain expectation of which, 
 the^ shall not fear death, and feeling true joy in this life, 
 be neither pufl"ed-up with the vain praises of men, nor 
 broken-down by their malice. 'J'hcse 1 esteem to be the 
 true and genuine fruits of learning; Avhich, though they be
 
 SIR T. MOklT. 283 
 
 not put-forth by all the learned, yet, whoever studicth with 
 this view, 1 maintain may produce them in the highest per- 
 fection. 
 
 * It mattereth not to the crop, whether man or Avoman 
 sowed it ; and if the name MA>f, whose reason distm- 
 guisheth his nature from the brute, api)lieth to either sex, 
 I say science, by which that reason is cultivated, and like 
 a field beareth good corn under due tillage, equally becom- 
 eth either, liut it the soil in woman be bad by nature, and 
 more productive in weeds than corn (by which opinion 
 many deter that sex from letters), I, on the other hand, 
 think the female genius ought on that account to be the 
 more dihgently cultivated by letters and good discipline ; 
 that the evil of nature ma}', by industry, be corrected. 
 Those wise and holy men, the fathers, thought thus. Of 
 whom, to omit the rest, Jerom and Augustin not only ex- 
 horted ladies of the highest rank and worth to the acqui- 
 sition of letters, but, that they might the more easily ac- 
 complish it, they diligently expounded to them abstruse 
 passages in scripture, and wrote long letters to young maid- 
 ens with so much erudition, that old men of our day, and 
 professors of divinity, can scarcely read, so far are they 
 from understanding them. Which works of holy men, my 
 learned Gonellus, you will of your goodness take care that 
 my (laughters read. From them they may best know the 
 scope their learning ought to embrace, and they Avill teach 
 them to esteem the consent of God, and a good con- 
 .science, the best fruit of their labours. So, placid mid
 
 esc RiEMoms of 
 
 tranquil in themselves, they will neither be set-up with tlie 
 praise of the tlatterer, nor I'cel any bite iVom the unlearned 
 scufl'er. 
 
 ' But T hear you long ago cxchiiniing, that these precepts, 
 tliough true, are too hard for the tender age of my child- 
 ren ; for who is there, however old or learned, whose mind 
 is so strong and well-poised, that he hath not the smallest 
 inclination for glory ? But, my friend, the more diiKcult 
 1 see it to shake-off this pest of pride, the more endeavour 
 do I deem necessary, even from infancy. Nor do 1 think 
 there is any other cause why this unavoidable evil sticketh 
 so fast in our breasts, than because almost as soon as we 
 are born it is sown in our minds by our nurses, next che- 
 rished by our masters, and lastly, fed and brought to per- 
 fection by our parents. For no one teacheth us any good, 
 without the expectation of praise as the reward of merit ; 
 whence, being long accustomed to tiie love of praise, it 
 cometh to that at last, that while we study to please the 
 majority, and therefore the inferiority, wc grow ashamed 
 of being good. 
 
 ' That this plague may be driven the farther from my 
 children, do you my Gonellus, their mother, and all my 
 friends, chant, inculcate, na}', bellow in their ears, tliat 
 vain glory is abject and disgustful ; and that there is no- 
 thing more excellent than the humble modesty recommend- 
 ed by Christ. This your prudent kindness will inculcate by 
 teacliing them good ratiicr than blaming their faults ; and
 
 Sm T. MORE, 287 
 
 you will conciliate their love, not hatred, by your admoni- 
 tions. And nothing can conduce more to this end, than 
 the reading to them the precepts of the fathers. These, 
 they knoAv, are not angry with them; and, from their ve- 
 nerable sanctity, their authority must have great weight. 
 
 ' "Wherefore, if you will read some such things, beside 
 their lesson in Sallust, to my Margaret and Ehzabeth (for 
 their understandings appear to be riper than those of John 
 and Cecilia), you will increase my own as well as their ob- 
 ligations to you, which are aheady great. And my child- 
 ren, first dear to me by nature, then more endeared \,y 
 their letters and virtue, shall become by their superior 
 growth in learning and good manners under your auspices, 
 superlatively dear indeed to me. 
 
 ' Farewell. At Court, Whitsuneve.' 
 
 ^Vhen INIore resigned his office of chancellor, he made 
 a disposition of his landed property ; reserving to himself 
 his estates for the term of his life, and after his death as- 
 suring a part to his wife, a part to his son's wife as a jom- 
 ture, and a part to Mr. Roper and his wife, with divers re- 
 mainders over. Though this was settled long before the 
 l^night's attainder, the conveyance was then made void ; 
 and the inheritances allotted to his wife and to his son's 
 wife were claimed by the crown. But it had so happened, 
 that two days after More had settled his deed, he altered
 
 288 MliMOIRS 01" 
 
 his first inlcntiou ; iitid instead of reserving that portion to 
 himsch' tor his ht'c, hkc the rest, he gave Mr. Ropi-r and 
 his witc their share in possession immediately, l.i c(iiise- 
 queuce of this, as the statute went only to annul the first 
 conveyance, tlie Ropers jeserved their share without mo- 
 Icstiition. Lady More was driven from the liouse at Chel- 
 sea, her effects were taken from her, and Henry, of his 
 mercy, allowed her twenty pounds a-year. John More and 
 Mrs. Ixoper were for some time imprisoned, but in the end 
 they obtained tlieir liberty.* 
 
 Erasmus survived his friend ]\Iore only about a year; 
 and concluded, in July 1.536, his long and laborious life, 
 devoted to the opposition of barbarous ignorance and blind 
 superstition, ;ind to the promotion of useful literature and 
 true piety. These glorious objects he endeavoured to ac- 
 complish in a mild and gentle manner, attacking not the 
 persons of men, but the faults of the age ; till necessity 
 compelled him to reply to those who assaulted him with the 
 ^utmost disingenuity and malice. 
 
 Early in life he perceived, and disclosed to the world, 
 that the religion of the ecclesiastics of his day consisted in 
 minute observances and formal grimaces, with which ~the 
 wicked could comply as well as the good. He, on the other 
 hand, made religion to consist in what the worthy alone 
 observe ; in the exercise of those christian virtues, which 
 ■are formed in the mind from a knowledge of our duty and 
 
 * Roper and More.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 289 
 
 a conviction of its importance. In vain he afterward act- 
 ed the pacifier ; exhorting on one hand the court of Rome 
 to proceed with more mildness, and the Lutherans, on the 
 other, to behave with more submission and modesty. The 
 pretensions of the former were so exorbitant, that nothing 
 but capital punishments could support them ; and the re- 
 formers were so shocked and provoked, so convinced that 
 no compliance would be made with any of their requests, 
 that they accounted it betraying the cause of truth to speak 
 submissively to such incorrigible rulers. 
 
 Erasmus hath been justly censured for his weakness in 
 flattering a party, whose sentiments and conduct he in 
 many points disapproved ; and in finding fault with those 
 ■whom, on the whole, he resembled much more than he 
 did their adversaries. But they who compelled him to this 
 conduct, Avho hated the name of reformation, and treated 
 as vile heretics all who dared even to wish for amendment, 
 were far more blameable. If he wanted courage by na- 
 ture, they who took advantage of his infirmity, far more 
 "wanted honesty and piety. 
 
 A certain pious craft and an innocent time-serving, which 
 however we must so use as not to betray the cause of reli- 
 gion, ^-c. was the gospel which Erasmus preached to the 
 Lutherans ; for he imagined that they and their cause would 
 go to ruin, and that a worse condition of things would en- 
 sue. Had they met his wishes, Ave might still have been 
 involved in all the darkness which overspread the christian 
 
 Vol. L P P
 
 590 MFMOIKS OF 
 
 ■world in tlic fifteenth century, and for previous ages. So 
 far would the popes and ecclesiastics have been from aban- 
 doning their beloved interests, founded on ignorance and 
 superstition, that a bloody inquisition would luive been 
 established in Italy, Spain, and all christian countries, 
 which Avould have extinguished for ever the lights then te- 
 ginning to shine. Lutheranism, by gaining more stability 
 than he expected, prevented the tyranny of an inquisition 
 in Germany ; and the reformation of Calvin secured the 
 hberty of other countries. Had all (Jermany submitted to 
 Leo and Charles, in compliance with his timorous counsels, 
 Erasmus himself would undoubtedly have been one of the 
 first sufferers. The court of Rome, no longer apprehensive 
 he should join the heretics, would have otFered him, a sa- 
 crifice of a sW'eet-smelling savour, to the monks, who did 
 a thousand times more service to tliat court, than a thousand 
 such scholars as Erasmus. Had he lived sixteen years longer 
 than he did, he would have seen an amazing change in the 
 affairs of Charles, as well as in the religious state of Ger- 
 many. 
 
 The apprehension of losing his revenues, the reputation 
 he still enjoyed in the court of Rome, and was loath to re- 
 linquish, and possibly the fear of being excommunicated 
 and proscribed, nay poisoned or assasssinated, might work 
 together upon one of more courage than Erasmus, and re- 
 strain him from speaking freely of the controversies then 
 agitated. He still, however, maintained the truth, though 
 cautiously and obliquely. I'hough he frecpiently censured
 
 Sm T. MORE. 291 
 
 Lutlier, he heartily wished he might carry his point, and 
 extort from his enemies some rcfoi-niation of doctrine and 
 manners ; but, as he could not imagine that Luther would 
 succeed, he adhered outwardly to the stronger party. The 
 fear of want cannot have intiuenced him to say and do 
 what he thought unlawful ; but the fear of disobliging his 
 best friends, as Henry VIII, Charles V, the popes, George 
 of Saxony, Wolsc}', W'arham, More, Campegius, Bembus, 
 Sadolet, and others, might influence his judgment though 
 he was not aware of it. There is no necessity to suppose, 
 that he acted ao-ainst his conscience in adhcrino; to the 
 church of Rome ; no, he persuaded himself that he did as 
 much as piety and prudence required, in freely censuring 
 her defects. The bold and resolute will greatly prefer the 
 conduct of Luther ; who, as the apologists of the good 
 scholar must allow, acted far more like an apostle or pri- 
 mitive christian, than did Erasmus. 
 
 Concord is undoubtedly a valuable blessing ; yet it is not 
 to be purchased at the price of truth and liberty. These 
 are infinitely more estimable than a sordid trancpiillity be- 
 neath the yoke of falsehood and arbitrar}- dominion, under 
 which the christian republic becomes a base faction, soli- 
 citous only of enjoying the present, and neglecting every 
 thing laudable, under the pretext of preserving peace. And, 
 had the pacific schemes of Erasmus been pursued, such 
 would probably have been the present state of Christianity. 
 Though divisions in general do much harm, thej' have at 
 least produced this good ; the truth of the gospel, and a 
 
 Pp 2
 
 S92. ME^rOIRS OP 
 
 christian liberty wliich acquicscetli onl}' in the decisions of 
 Christ, arc not entirely banished trom the earth, as they 
 would liave been -without the struggles ol' our ancestors^ 
 I'hey jModuced no snudl benefit to the uien)ory of Erasmus 
 himself; who having his works condemned by theological 
 cabals, and mangled by inquisitions, which struck out the 
 most valuable part of his writings, would have been stig- 
 matised through succeeding ages, if a party had not arisen 
 in Europe, Avhich willingly forgives him his weakness and 
 irresolution, for the sake of his iisetul philological and theo- 
 looical labours ; and gave him a second lile, and recom- 
 mended him to the christian world, by an elegant and faith- 
 ful edition of his works. 
 
 Erasmus, it hath been said, was not rewarded in i)ropor- 
 tion to his merit. Yet, if we consider how many presents, 
 invitations, and favours he received, how many he refused, 
 and how little inclination lie had for ecclesiastical prefer- 
 ments (more of Avhich he might have obtained), we cannot 
 class him with the inj dices literati. In him we have a 
 Tery remarkable instance of a man, avIio, with numerous 
 disadvantages of birth and education, friendless and j)oor, 
 overcame every obstacle, and, by dint of talent and in^ 
 dustry, became one of the first scholars of his age, ac- 
 quiring the patronage of princes, nobles, and prelates, of 
 the greatest names in church as well as state.* 
 
 It is a pleasing circumstance in the history of two great 
 
 * See Jortiu's Life of Erasmus.
 
 SIR T. MORE. 293 
 
 men like More and Erasnuis, that the bond of fiiendship 
 into which thej entered in early Vit'c, appears never to have 
 been broken ; though, if we contrast the freedom of spirit 
 disphiyed by the one, and the prejudices of the other, such 
 an infraction may appear to have been sufficiently hazard^ 
 ed. As l«te in his life as he could, the knight still corre- 
 sponded with his friend, and shewed him to the last the 
 same esteem which he had ever entertained for him. In 
 one of tl;ese letters he gently admonisheth the great scholar, 
 not to recant or retract anything ; but merely to conde- 
 scend as far as he could to the infirmities of some honest 
 and weak brethren. 'J'hus the bigotted advice which ]More 
 hath been said to have given his friend is a misrepresenta- 
 tion, though the use made by the reformers of the theolo- 
 gical works of Erasmus might perhajis not unreasonably 
 have contributed to diminish the knight's affection for him ; 
 since he could not be well pleased to find himself pressed 
 by such arguments.* 
 
 We will add, by Avay of appendix to these jMemoirs, 
 three letters by Erasmus relative to More. The first, to 
 Ilutten, in drawing a portrait of the knight, will be found 
 to describe minute particularities of his mind and bod}-. 
 That to Budaeus contains a farther account of his manner 
 of living and managing his family, and of the excellent dis- 
 positions and uncommon erudition of his daughters. The 
 last, published under the name IS ucerinus, gives us an ele- 
 gant and pathetic account of the deaths of More and 
 
 * Jortin.
 
 294 MEMOIRS OF SIR T. MORE. 
 
 Fisher, and tliougli not acknowltdged by him, hath been 
 commonly, antl with some probabdity, ascribed to Erasmus- 
 As much ot" the spirit of tlicse letters would be lost by 
 translation, they are given in the original language; and we 
 will add a lew Testimonies, by the learned of his day, re- 
 lative to ]\lore and his writings, Avhich appear to demand 
 a place on an occasion like the present.
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 TO THE 
 
 MEMOIRS,
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Erasmus Rot. Ulrica Hutteno S, D. 
 
 QaoD Thomx Mori ingenium sic deamas, ac pene dixeritn deperis, nimi- 
 rum scriptis illius iniiammatus, quibus ut vere scribis nihil esse potest neque 
 doctius neque festivius, istuc mihi crede clarissime Huttene tibi cum multis 
 commune est, cum Moro mutuum etiam. Nam is vicissim adeo scriptorum 
 tuorum genio delectatur, ut ipse tibi propemodum invideam. Haec videlicet 
 est ilia Platonis omnium maxime amabilis sapientia, quae longe flagrantiores 
 amores excitat inter raortales, quam uUs quamlibet admirabiles corporum 
 formae. Non cernitur ilia quidem oculis corporeis, sed et animo sui sunt oculi, 
 ut hie quoque verum comperiatur illud Grxcorum « 15 i^Hf yMict iti^diTron l^iv. 
 Per bos fit aliquoties, ut ardcntissima charitate conglutineutur, inter quos nee 
 colloquium nee mutuus conspectus intercessit. £t quemadmodum vulgo fit, 
 ut incertis de causis alia forma alios rapiat ; ita videtur et ingeniorum esse 
 tacita qusedam cognatio, qu5e facit ut certis ingcniis impense delectemur, cae- 
 teris non item. 
 
 Cseterum, quod a me flagitas, ut tibi totum Morum velut in tabula depin> 
 gam, utinam tarn absolute pneslare queam quam tu vehementer cupis. Nam 
 -mihi quoque non injucundum fuerit interim in amici multo omnium suavisfimi 
 
 Voir. I. Q q
 
 208 APPENDIX. 
 
 conlcmplationc vcrsari. Scd priinum i T«»]i5 i>}(it i/ur omncs Mori dotes pcr- 
 spexisse. DeinJc Iiuud scio an illi- luturus sit, a qtiolibct artifice depingi scsc. 
 Sec cnim arbltror Icvioris esse opcrK Monim eflingere, quain Alexandrum 
 Magniiin aut Arliiileiii, nee illi quam hie iiostcr iinmortalitate digniores crant. 
 Tale argumentijin prorsus Apcllis cujuspiam inanum dcsiderat ; at vcreor, iie 
 ipse Fulvii Rutiibaeque similior sini quam Ajjellis. Expcriar taincn tibi totius 
 hominis simulacrum dtlineare verius quam exprimcre, quantum ex diutiua 
 domcsticaque consuctudine vol animadvertcre licnit wl mcminissc. Quoil si 
 quando fiet ut vos aliqua Icgatio committat, turn demuin intelligcs quam non 
 probum arlificem ad hoc negotii delegeris, vercorque plane nc me aut invi- 
 dcntix incuses aut cxcutientiae, qui ex tarn multis bonis tarn pauca vel vidcrim 
 lippus vel commemorarc voluerim invidiis. 
 
 Atque ut ab ca parte cxordiar qua tibi Worus est ignolissiraus, statura mo- 
 deque corporis est infra proceritalem, supra taracn notabilem humilitatcm. 
 V'erum omnium membrorum tanla est symmctria, ut nihil hie omnino dcsi- 
 deres ; cute corporis Candida, facies magis ad candorem vergit quam ad pallo- 
 rcm, quanquam a rubore procul abest nisi quod tennis admodum rubor ubique 
 subllicct, capilli subnigro flavore, sive mavb sufllavo nigrore, barba rarior, 
 oculi subcaesii maculis quibusdam inferspersi, quse spix;ics ingenium arguere 
 solct fclicissimum, apud Britannos etiam amabilis habetur, cum nostri nigrore 
 magis capianlur. Ncgant ullum oculorum genus minus infcstari vitiis. Vul- 
 tus ingenio respondet, gratam et amicam fcstivitatem semper prse se ferens, ac 
 nonnihil ad ridenlis habitum compositus ; atque, ut ingenue dicam, appositior 
 ad jucunditatem quam ad gravilatcm aut dignitatem, etiamsi longissime abest 
 ab ineptia sciirrilitatcque. Dexter humerns paulo vidctur eminentior Isevo, 
 prcscrtim cum incedit, id quod illi non accidit natura sod assuetudine, qualia 
 permulta nobis Solent adharrers. In reliquo corpore nihil est quod offendat, 
 manus tantum subrusticae sunt ; ita duntaxat, si ad reliquam corporis specieni' 
 conferantur. 
 
 Ipse omnium qus ad corporis cultum attincnt semper a puero negligentissi- 
 mus fuit, adeo ut nee ilia magnopere curare sit solitus, quae sola viris esse cu- 
 randa docet Ovidius. |Fonnx venustas qux fuerit adolescenti, nee otiam
 
 APPEiVDIX. 209 
 
 licet atlSf Kit^dfiiii conjiccrc; quanquam ipse novi liominera non majorem annis 
 viginti tribus, nam nunc non multum excessit quadragesimum. Valetudo 
 prospera magis quam robusta, sed tamcn quse qnantislibet laboribus sufSciat 
 honesfo cive dignis, nullis aut certe paucissirais morbis obnoxia. Spes est vi- 
 vacem fore, quando patrem liabet admodum natu grandem sed mire virenti ve- 
 gelaque senectufe. Niminem adbuc villi minus morosum in delectu ciborum. 
 Ad juvenilem usque setatem aquae potu delectatus est, id illi patrium fuit. Vc- 
 rutn hac in re ne cui raolestus essef, fallebat convivas e stanneo poculo cervi- 
 siam bibens, camque aquse proximam, frequenter aquam meram. Vinum, 
 quoniam illic mos est ad idem poculum vicissira invitare sese, summo ore 
 nonnunquara libabat, ne prorsus abhorrere videretur, simul ut ipse communi- 
 bus rebus assuesceret. Carnibus bubulis, salsamentis, pane secundario ac ve- 
 hementer fernientato libentius vescebatur, quam lib cibis quos vulgus habet in 
 deliciis. Alioqui ncutiquara abhorrens aJj omnibus qux voluptatem innoxiara 
 adferunt etiam corpori. Lactariorum, et eorum foeluum qui nascuntur in ar- 
 boribus, semper fuit appetentior ; esum ovorum in deliciis habet. Vox neque 
 grandis est nee admodum exilis, sed quae facile penetret aures, nihil habens 
 canorum ac molle sed plane loquentis est ; nam ad musicam vocalem a natura 
 non videtur esse compositus, etiamsi delcclatur omni musices gencrc. Linn-ua 
 mire explanata art iculataque, nihil habens nee prseceps nee htesitans. Cuitu 
 simplici delectatur, nee sericis purpurave aut catenis aurcis utitur, nisi cum 
 integrum non est ponere. Dictu mirum quam negligens sit ceremoniarum 
 quibus hominum vulgus aestimat morum civilitatem ; has ut a nomine exigit, 
 ita aliis non anxie prxsfat ncc in congressibus nee in conviviis, licet harum non 
 sit ignarus, si lubcat uti. Sed niuliebre putat viroque indignum, cjusmodi 
 ineptiis bonam temporis partem absumerc. 
 
 Ab aula princifnimque familiaritate olim fuit alieuior, quod illi semper pe- 
 culiantcr inrisa fuerit tjrannis quemadmodum squalitas gratissima. Vix au- 
 tcm rcperies ullani aulam fcim niodestam quas non muKum habeat strepitus at- 
 que ambifionis, multum luci, multum luxus, quaeque prorsus absit ab omni 
 specie tyrannidis. Qiiin nee in lienrici VJil. aulam pertiahi poluit nisi multo 
 negotio, cum hoc pcincipe nee optari quicquam possit civilius ac modcstius. 
 Natura libertatis aiqne otii est avidior, sed quemadmodum otio cum datur lu- 
 bens utitur, ita quoties poscit res, nemo vigilantior aut patieutior. Ad ami- 
 
 Qq 2
 
 300 APPENDIX. 
 
 citiam natus factusque videtur, cujiis et sincerissiraiis est cultor, ct longc ten;i- 
 cisbimus est. Nee ille mctuit t«ai/?»a/«> ab Hcsiotla * paruru laudalain. Nulli 
 non patct ad iieccssitudinis foediis. Ncqiinqiiain moiosui iu dcligcudo, coiu- 
 modissimus in alcudo, constatitissiinus in rctinendo. Si foris incidit in queni- 
 piani, cujus vitiis mcderi non possit, hunc per occasioncin diiniltiU dissucns 
 araicitiam^ non abrumpciis. Quos sinceros repcrit, et ad inyeniuiu suum ap- 
 positos, horum consuetudiiic fabulisque sic delectatur, ut in Lis rebus prseci- 
 puani vitse voluptatcni ponere videatur. Nam a pila, alca, cliaitis, cxU-iisqiic 
 lusibus, quibus viilgus proccruni tenipom txdiiim solct fullere, prorsiis ah- 
 horret. Porro ut propriaruni reruni est negligciitior, ita nemo diligentior iu 
 curandis amicorum ncgoliis. 
 
 Quid multiij ? si qu'is absolutum vene amicitise rcqnirat exemplar, a ne- 
 Hiine recfius pctierit quam a Moro. In convictu tarn rara comifas ac morum 
 snavitas, ut nemo tain tristi sit ingcnio qucm non cxbilaref, nulla rc> tam 
 atrox cujus (sedium non disculiat. Jam indc a pucro sic jocis est ddcctatus, 
 ut ad bos natus videri possit ; sed in his nee ad scurrili(a(cm usque progrcssus 
 est, nee mordacitatcm unquam araavit. Adolescciis comoediolas et scripsit et 
 e^it. Si quod dictum csset salsius] etiam in ipsum tortuni, tainen amabat ; 
 usque adco gaudet salibus argutis, ct ingcnium rcdolentibiis ; mule ct cpigram- 
 niatis lusit juveiiis, et Luciano cum primis est delectatus, quin et milii, ut 
 Morias Encomium scriberem, hoc est, ut canielus saltarcm, fuit auctor. Nihil 
 autcm in rebus humanis obvium est unde ille non venetur voluptatera, etiam 
 in rebus maxime seriis. Si cum eruditis ct cordatis res est, delectatur ingcnio ; 
 si cum indoclis ac stuKis, fruitur illorum stultilia. Ncc offenditur morionibus, 
 niira dextcrilate ad omnium aiiectus sese accommodans. Cum mulieribus fere, 
 atque etiam cum uxore, non nisi lusus jocosque tractat. Diceres altcrum quen- 
 dam esse Democritum, aut potius Pylhagoricum ilium philosophum, qui va- 
 cuus anirao per raercatum ol)ambulans, contemplatur tumultus vendentium 
 atque ementium. Nemo minus ducitur vulgi judicio, sed riirsus nemo minus 
 abest a sensu communi. Prxcipua illi voluptas est si)ectare formas, ingenia ct 
 affectus diversorum animantium ; proinde nullum fere genus est avium quod 
 domi non alat, si quod aliud animal vulgo rarum, veluti simia, vuipes, vi- 
 
 » E?Y. 715.
 
 APPENDIX. 301 
 
 Terra, mustcla, et bis consirailia. Ad hsc si quid exoticum, aut alioqai spsc- 
 tanduin occurrat, avidissime mercari solet, afque liis rebus uadique dooiuin 
 habct itibtructam, ut nusquani non sit obvimii quod oculus ingredientium de- 
 morclur ; ac totics silii reiiovat voluptatem, quoties alios conspicit oblectari. 
 Cum astas ferret, noa abhorruit a puellaruin. amoribus, sed citra iufainiain, et 
 sic ut oblatis magis fuerctur quani captatis, ct aniino mutuo caperetur potius 
 quam coitu. 
 
 Bonas litcras a priinis statim annis hauserat. Juvenis ad Giaecas liieras ac 
 
 philosophise sfudium sese applicuit, adeo uon opitulaate patre, viro alioqui 
 
 prudenti proboque, ut ca conantem omni subsidio destitucret ; ac pene pro 
 
 abdicato haberet, quod a patriis studiis desciscere videretur, nana is Britanni- 
 
 carum Icgum peritiam profitetur. Quse protessio, ut est a veris Uteris alienis- 
 
 simn, ita apud Britannos cum primis babentur inagai clarique, qui in hoc 
 
 generc sibi pararuut auc(ori(atem, ncc tcmere apud iUos alia via ad rem ac 
 
 gloriam paraiidam magis idonea. Siquidem pleramque nobililateia illius iu- 
 
 sulae peperit lioc sludiorum genus. In eo negant quenquam absolvi posse, nisi 
 
 plurimos annos insudarit. Ab hoc igitur cum ij«n injuria abhorreret adole* 
 
 scentis ingenium, melioribus rebus natum, tamen post degustatas scholasticas 
 
 disciplinas, sic in hoc vcrsatus est, ut ncque consulerent quenquam libentius 
 
 litigatores, neqne qusestnm uberiorem feceret quisquam eorum qui nihil aliud 
 
 agebant ; tanta erat vis ac celeritas ingenii. Quin ct evolvendis ortbodoxorum- 
 
 voluminibus non segncm oix?ram impendk. Augustiiii Jibros De Civitate Dei 
 
 publice professus est adhuc pene adolescens autlitorio frequent!, nee puduit nee 
 
 pcenituit sacerdofes ac senes a juvene profano sacra discerc. Interim et ad 
 
 pietatis studium totum animum appuiit, vigiiiis, jejuniis, prccatienibus aliis- 
 
 que consimilibus progymnasmatis sacerdotium mcditans. Qua quidem in re 
 
 uon paulo plus ille sapiebat, quam pleriquc isti qui temere ad tam arduara pro- 
 
 &ssiouem ingciuut sese, nutlo prius sui pcriculo facto. 
 
 Neque quicquam obstabat' quo minus sese huic vitse generi addiceret, nisi 
 quod uxoris desiderium non posset excutere. Maluit igitur raaritus esse castus, 
 quam sacerdos impurus. Tamen virgincm duxit admodum puellam, daro ge- 
 nere natam, rudem adhuc, utpote ruri inter parentes ac sorores semper habitam, 
 quo magis ilU liccret illam ad suos mores fingerc. Hanc et literis instruendam
 
 50? APPENDIX. , 
 
 curavit et omiii Musiccs gcncrc dodam reddidit, planequc falein pene finxcrat 
 quicum lubuissct iiniversam xtafem cxigere, ni mors prematura puellam siis- 
 tulissct c medio ; scd cnixara liberos aliquot, quorum adhuc supcrsunt pucllx 
 Ires, Margarda, Alojsia, Cecilia, puer unus Joannes. Neque diu codebs vi- 
 vere sustinuit, licet alio Tocantibus amicorum consiliis ; paucis mensibus a I'u- 
 iiere uxoris viduam duxit magis curandae familix quam voluplati, quippe nee 
 bcUam admoduin ncc puoUam, ut ipse jocari sold, sed acrcm ac vigilantcm 
 matrcm faniili.is, quicum tamcn perinde comiler suavi(erque vivit, ac si pucUa 
 ford forma quautumlibet amabili. Vix ulhis raaritus a sua tantum obsequii 
 impetrat imperio atque severitudine, quantum hie blandltiis jocisquc. Quid 
 cnim non impetret, posteaquam eflecit, ut mulicr jam ail senium vcrgens, ad 
 hoc animi minimc mollis, postremo ad rem attcnlLssima, cilliara, tcstudine, mo- 
 nochordo, tibiisque canere disceret, et in liisce rebus quotidic praescriptnm ojK'rx 
 pensuni exigenti marito redderet ? Consiniili comitate totani familiam modera- 
 tur, ia qua nulla tragxdia, nulla rixa. Si quid exstitcrit, protinus aut mede- 
 tur, autcomponit. Neque quen quam unquam dimisit ut inimicum, aut ut 
 inimicus. Quin hujus domus fatalis qua'daiu videtur felicitas, in qua nemo 
 vixit qui non provectus sit ad raeliorem fortunam, nuUus unquam ullam fiunae 
 labem conlraxit. Quin vix ullos rcperias, quibus sic convenerit cum matre, 
 ut buic cum noverca, nam pater jam alteram induxerat; utramque non minus 
 adamavit ac matrem. Nuper induxit tertiam, hac Morus sancte dejerat se nihil 
 unquam vidisse melius. Porro crga parentes ac liberos sororesquc sic affcctus 
 est, ut nee amet moleste, nee usquam desit oflicio pidatis. Animus est a sor- 
 dido lucro alienissiraus. Liberis suis semovit e I'acultatibus quod illis satis esse 
 putat, quod supercst laigiter efl'uudit. 
 
 Cum advocationlbus adhuc alerdur, nnlli non dedit aniicum vcrufnquc con- 
 silium, magb illorum commodis prospiciens quam suis ; plerisque solitus per- 
 suaderc uti litem coniponereiit, minus enim hie fore dispendii. Id si minus 
 impdrabat, turn rationcm indicabat qua possent quam uiininio dispendio li(i- 
 garc, quando quibusdani liic animus est ut litilwis etiani ddectentur. In urbc 
 Londouiensi, in qua natus est, annos aliquot judicem egit in causis civilibus ; 
 id munus, ut minimum habet oneris (nam nou sedetur nisi die Jovis usque ad 
 prandium) ita cum primis lionoriticum babdur. Nemo plures cansas absolvit, 
 nemo se gessit iutegrius, remissa plerisque jwcuaia, quam ex praescriplo dcbent 
 
 «..
 
 APP£x\DIX, 303 
 
 qui litigant. Siqiiidcm ante litis contestationcm actor depoiiit Ires drachmas, 
 totidem reus, nee amplius qiiicquani fas cbt exigcre. His moribus cffecit, ut 
 fivitati suae longe cliarissinius cssct. Dfcreverat autem bac fortuna esse con- 
 tentus, qua; ct satis babcret auctorilatis, iiec tanieu cssct giavibus obnoxia pe- 
 riculis. 
 
 Semel atque iterum extrusus est in legationem, in qua cum se cordatissime 
 gessissct, non conquievit serenissimus rex Henricus, ejus iioininis octavus, do- 
 nee honiineni in aulam suam pertraberef. Cur enim non dieam pcrtrabcret ? 
 NuUus unquam vcbeaientius ambiit in aulam admitti, quiui bic sluduit cffu- 
 gere. Verum cum esset optinio regi in aninio fumiliam suam eruditis, gravibus, 
 cordatis et integris viris diifertam reddere, cum alios permullos, turn Morum in 
 prirais accivit ; quern sic in intimis babet, ut a se nunquam patiatur disccdere. 
 Sive seriis utendum est, nibil illo eonsultius ; sive visum est regi fabulis amas- 
 nioribus laxare animum, nullus comes festivior. Sxpe res arduae judiccm gra- 
 vem ct cordatum postulant, bas sic Morus discutit ut utraque pars babcat gra- 
 tiam. Nee tamen ab eo quisquam impetravit, ut munus a quoquara acciperet. 
 Felices res publicas, si Mori similes raagistratus ubique praeficeret princeps ! 
 Nee interim ullura accessit suparcilium. Inter tantas negotiorum raolcs, et ve- 
 terum araiculorum meminit, et ad literas adamatas subindc redit. Quicquid 
 dignate valet, quicquid apud amplissimum regem gratia pollet, id omne ju- 
 vandx reipublicse, juvandis araicis impendit. Semper quidem adfuit animus 
 de cunctis benemerendi cupidissimus, mireque pronus ad misericordiam ; eum 
 nunc magis excrit, quando potest plus prodesse- Alios pecunia sublevat, alios 
 auctoritate tuetur, alios commcndatione provehit ; quos alioqui juvare non po- 
 test, his consilio succurit ; nullum unquam a se tristcm dimisit. Diceres Morum 
 esse publicum omnium inopum patronum. Ingens lucrum sibi putat accessisse, 
 si quem oppressum sublevavit, si perplexum et impeditum explicuit, si aliena- 
 tum redegit in gratiam. Nemo lubentius collocat beneficium, nemo minus ex- 
 probrat. Jam cum tot nominibus sit felicissimus, et felicitatis comes fere soleat 
 esse jactantia, nullum adiiuc mortalium mihi videre contigit qui longius abes- 
 set ab hoc vitio^ . 
 
 Sed ad studiorum commemorationera redco, quae me Moro, mihiqne Morum 
 potissimum conciliaruut. Primam aetatcm carmine potissimum exercuit, moz
 
 J04 APPENDIX. 
 
 diu luctatus est ut prosam orationcm reddcrct moUiorem, per omne scripli go 
 nus stylum exerccns, qui cujusmodi sit quid attinct commemorare ? lib! prae- 
 sertim qui libros ejus semper habeas in manibus. Declamationibus prsecipuc 
 dclcctatus est, ct in his, materiis adoxis, quod in his acrior sit ingeniorum 
 cxercitatio. Unde adolcscens ctiamnum dialogum moliebatur, quo Piatonis 
 communitatem ad uxores usque defendit. Luciani Tyrannicida: respondit, quo 
 in nrgumenlo me vohjit aiitagonistam habere ; quo wrtius pcriculum faceret, 
 ccquid profccisset in hoc genere. Utopiam hoc consilio edidit, ut indicaret 
 quibus rebus fiat, ut minus commode habeant respublica? ; scd Brilannicam 
 potissiinum eilinxit, quam habct peiiitus perspectam cognitamque. Secundum 
 librum prius scripserat per otium, mox yter occasionem primum adjecit extem- 
 pore; atque hinc nonnuUa dictionis inaequalittis. 
 
 Vix alium reperias qui felicius dicat extempore, adco fclici ingcnio felix lin- 
 gua subservit. Ingenium prxscus et ubique prxvolans, memoria parata, quae 
 cum omnia liabeat velut in numerate, promte et iiicontanter suggerit quicquid 
 lempus aut res postulat. In disputationibus nihil fingi potest acatius, adeo ut 
 summis ctiam theologis ssepe negotium facessat, in ipsorum arena vcrsans. 
 Joannes Coletus, vir acris exactique judicii, in familiaribus coloquiis subindc 
 dicere solet Brilannu non tiisi unicum esse int^cniuni, cum hiec insula tot egrc- 
 giis ingeniis floreat. Verx pietatis non indiligcns cultor est, etiamsi ab omni 
 superstitione alienissimus. Habet suas lioras quibus Deo litet prccibus, non ex 
 more sed e pectore depromtis. Cum amicis sic fabulatur de vita futuri secuh", 
 ut agnoscas ilium ex animo loqui, neque sine optima spe. Ac talis Morus est 
 ctiam in aula. Et postea sunt qui putcnt christianos non iiiveniri nisi in mo- 
 nasteriis. Talcs viros cordatisslmus rex in familiam suam atque adeo in cubi- 
 culum non solum admittit, vcrum etiam invitat, ncc invitat modo verum etiam 
 pertrahit. Hos habet arbitros ac testes perpetuos vitae suae, hos habet in con- 
 siliis, hos habet ilinerum comitcs. Ab his stlpari gaudet, potius quam luxu 
 perditis jnvcnibus aut mulierculis, aut ctiam torquatis Midis, aut Insinceris of- 
 iiciis ; quorum alius ad volupfatcs incptas avocet, alius ad tyrannidem in- 
 flammct, alius ad expilaudum populura novas technas suggerat. 
 
 In hac aula si vixisses Hultche, sat scio Tursnm aliam aulara describeres, et 
 ?7rfjoKfos esse desincrcs, quanqnam tii quoque cum eo principe vi^is ut irite-
 
 APPENDIX. 305 
 
 griorem nee optare possis. Neque desunt qui rebus optimis faveant, veluti 
 Stromerus ac Coppus. SeJ quid ista paucitas a 1 (aiitma examea insigtiiuna 
 virorum, Monfjoii, Linacri, Pacsei, Coleti, Stocschleii, Latimeri, Mori, Ton- 
 stalli, Clcrici, atque aliorum his adsimilium ? quorum queincumque norainaris, 
 mundum omnium virttitum ac disciplinarum semel dixeris. Mihi vero spes est 
 haudquaquam vulgaris, fore ut Albertus, unicum his temporibus nostrx Ger- 
 manise ornamotitum, et plures sui similes in suam allegat familiam, et ceteris 
 principibus gravi sit exempio, ut idem et ipsi suae quisque domi faccre stude- 
 ant. Flabes imaginem ad optimum exemplar a pessimo artifice non optime 
 delineatam. Ea tibi minus placebit, si continget JVIorum nosse propius. Sed 
 illud tamen interim cavi, ne mihi possis impitigere quod tibi minus paruerim, 
 neve semper opprobres niraium breves epistolas. Etiamsi hacc nee mihi scri- 
 benti visa est longior nee tibi legenti, sat scio prolixa videbitur; id faciei 
 Mori nostri suavitas. Verum, ne nihil ad postremam tuam epistolam respon- 
 deam, &c. Antwerpiae, X. Cal. Aug. Anno 1519. (Epist. 447). 
 
 Vol. I. R r
 
 m APPENDIX. 
 
 JErasmiis Rot, GuUclmo Budteo, S. D. 
 
 Est quoil JMoro gratuleris. Niim rex Iiunc, ncc aiu- 
 
 bientem nc(? flagitantem, munerc magiiifico honeslavit, atldito salario ncqiia- 
 quam posnUendo ; est cniin priacipi suo a thesauris. Ea functio apuil Bri- 
 tannos, ut est splcndida cum priinis atf]ue honoriflca, ita non adinudum est 
 obnoxia nee iiividix riec molestis nej^otiis. Erat competitor, lioino sat gralios- 
 Tis, qui sic ambiebat Iioc muiieris, ut non gravarelur suo victu ciboque gcrerc. 
 At rex optiinus hie ccrtissininm in Moruni favoris argumentiim dedit, qui non 
 ambienti snlariimi ctiam addere malucrit, quam gratuitiim magistratuni ad- 
 inittcre. Ncc hoc contentiis princeps benignissiinus, equitis aurati digni(atcni 
 adjecit. Ncqiic dubitandum est qiiin illiim sit amplioribus ornnmentis ali- 
 quando cumulaturus, quum scsc oiFerct occasio. Siquidcnx caclibes cveherc 
 longe procllvius est principibus. At Morus sic est admixtus ordini conjugum, 
 ut nee uxoris obitu sit emancipandus. Priorcm enim, quam virginera dux- 
 erat, extubt ; et banc viduus viduam duxit. Sed hunc principis animum hoc 
 magis gratulor IMoro, quod quicquid huic accesserit vel autoritatis vel gratias, 
 id existiraem bonis sludiis accc<)ere ; quibus illc sic favet, ut si pares cssent 
 animo I'acultates, non decsscl apud Britannos feiicibus ingeniis candidus ac 
 beiiignus Maecenas. Solent aulie principum idem facere quod mcdici, qui cor- 
 pus sibi (raditum primura inaniunt, niox implent ac vegctant. Nee diibito 
 quin Moro noslro simile quippiam acciderit hactenus. Quid libi venerit usu, 
 tute melius ncsti. Ef tamen illius bciiignitatem scnsenmt ingcnia, quum adeo 
 non abuiidaret illi quod largiretur, ut sere gravaretur alieno. 
 
 Nee hac parte solum ornat studia, quod ipso doctissiraus candide favet 
 doctis omnibus, verum eliam quod universam familiam honestissimis literarum 
 studiis excolendam curat ; novo quidem hactenus exemplo, sed quod brevi 
 plures ni fallor sint imitaluri, adeo felicitcr succedit. Habet filias Ires, quarum 
 maxima natu Wargareta jam nupta est juveni, primum beafo, deindc mori- 
 bus integerrimis ac modest issim is, postremo non alieno a nostris stndiis. Om- 
 nee a teneris annis curavit imbuendas, primum castis ac Sanctis moribus, deinde 
 politioribus Uteris. I'iliabus tribus quartam adjuuxit puellam, quam benig-
 
 APPENDIX. 30T 
 
 n/tatis gratia alit, ut illis sit soJalis. Habct privig^am mira forma raroque 
 ingenio pudlam, annos j;iin aliquot nuptam juveni iioa indocto, sed cujus 
 moribus nihil sit niagis aureum. llnbet filium ex uxore priore, natura annos 
 plus minus Iredecira, ex libcris natu ininimii:Ti. An(c annum visum est i\loro 
 milii specimen aliquod exhibere, quantum in lileris profecissent. Jussit ut 
 omnes ad me scriberent, et quidem suo quisqiie Marte. Nee argumentum est 
 suppedilatum, nee in sermone quicquam est correclum ; eteuim cum illi 
 schedas obtulissent patri castigandas, ille velut offensus incommoda scriptura, 
 jussit ut eadem accuratius ac purius describerent. Id ubi factum est, ne syl- 
 laba quidem mutata, literas oljsignatas ad me misit. Credc mihi, Budae, 
 nihil asque sum admiratus. In sensibus nihil erat ineptum aut puellare; sermo 
 talis, ut sentires esse quotidie proticientium. 
 
 Hunc chorum amabilem una cum sponsis duobus domi habet. NuTlam illic 
 videbis otiosam, nullam ineptiis muliebribus occupatam. lliis T. Livius est 
 in manibus. Nam eo progressa; sunt, ut auctores hujusmodi legant ct intelli- 
 gant citra interpretem, nisi si quod incidat verbum, quod me quoque fortassis 
 aut mci similem fuerat remoraturum. Uxor, ingenio magis ac return usu 
 quam eruditione valcns, mira dexteritate moderatur omne collegium, l^yoJiaVlK 
 cujuspiam vicibus fungcns, pcnsum cuique prasscribens aique exigens, neque 
 sinens ccssare qucnquam nee frivolis occupari. Soles in Uteris tuis subindc 
 queri, quod tua causa male audiret philologia, quae tibi duo mala conciliasset. 
 Valetudinis ac rei familiaris dispendium. At Moiiis noc agit, ut omnibus no- 
 minibus, et apud oniiJcS l)ene audiat ; hoc Uteris debere se prasdicans, quod 
 prosperiorc sit valetudine, quod optimo principi, quod suis et extcris charus et 
 gratiosus, quod re lautiore, quod sibi quod amicis jucundior, quod patriae 
 quod cognatis et affinibus utiUor, quod ad aula; commcrcium quod ad pro- 
 cerum convictum quod ad omnem vitae consuetudinem accommodalior, deni- 
 que quod superis gratior. Primum male audicbant studia, quod sensum com- 
 munem adimerent addicto cultori. Nulla est profeclio, nulla negotia tarn 
 mulla tam ardua, qux libellos Moro de manibus exculiant ; et tamen vix alium 
 reperies qui magis sit omnibus omnium horarum homo, qui ad obscquium fa- 
 ciltor, ad congressus magis obvius, in coUoquio magis alaccr, quique tantum 
 verae prudentiae cum tanta morum suavitate conjunxerit. Quibus rebus factum 
 est, ut quum ante paucos dies litera^m amor ad omne vitae vel praesidium vel 
 
 \ R r 2
 
 n03 APPENDIX. 
 
 ornamcnlmn liaberdur iiiutilis", nunc nemo pcnc sit magmlum, qui lii)cro5 ul 
 majorum imasiiuibus ilignos agiioscat, nisi bonis lilcris criulitos. Quiii ct mo- 
 iiarciiis ipsis b )na rcgalium di-conim pais abcssc viJotiir, in quibus litcrarum 
 l»eritia ilesulcretur. 
 
 Jam nemincm fere niorlaliiim non liabebat luce pcrsuasio, scxui fueminino 
 litcras ct ad caslitatom ct ad fainaiu esse inulilcs. Nee ipse quondam prorsus 
 ab iiac abliorrui scntciilia; vcruiu lianc luilii Moms peaitus excussit aiiimo. 
 Etcniin quuni duabus rebus potissiniuni pei iclitetur puellaium castitas, olio ac 
 lascivis lusibus, ab horum utroque litcrarum arcet amor. Nee alia res melius 
 tuctur famam iutegram, quam mores incontamiiuUi. Nee ulla: firmius casta 
 sunt, quam qua; judicio casta2 sunt. Nequc vero improbo consilium corum, 
 qui manuariis opcris prospiciunt pudicitia- (iliarum. Verum nulla res sic <o- 
 tum pucUx pectus occupat, ut studium. Alque liinc pruiter hoc I'ructus, quod 
 animus ab otio pernicioso proliibetur, liauriuntur optima praecepta, qua; raen- 
 lem ad virlutcm .et instituaiit et inllamment. iMultis simpiicilas ct rerum 
 inscitia pudicitiae jacturam attulit, priusquam scirent quibus rebus tantus 
 thesaurus pcriclitaretur. Nequc video cur maritis sit ractucndum, iic minus 
 liabeant morigcras si doctas habeant, nisi si qui tales siiit, ut ea velint cxi- 
 gerc ab uxoribus qua^ non sunt cxigciida a probis matronis. Irao mea sen- 
 Icntia nihil est intractabilius inscitia. Cerle hoc proestat animus cultura stu- 
 diorum exercit<itus, ut intelligat aequas probasque rationes, vidcatque quid dc- 
 ceat quid expediat. Atque projicmodum persuasit, qui rem docuit. Ad hxc 
 quum jucuiiditas (irmita.sque coiijugii magis ab animorum bcuevolentia, quam 
 corporum amorc prodeiscatur, mullo (enacioribus vinculis junguntur quos in- 
 geniorum quoque charitas copulat ; magisque vcretur maritum uxor, qucra 
 agnoscit ct prcccptorcni. Nee ideo minus habebit pietatis, quia minus habct 
 supcrstitionis. Equidcm nialo talenlum auri puri, quam tria talenta multo 
 plumbo scoriaque viliata. Audimus passim alias mulicrcuias sic a coiicioric 
 rcdcuutcs, ut prxdicent mirifice fuissc coucionatum qui dixit, ac vuUum ho- 
 minis grapliicc depingunt ; ccterum nequc quid dixerit, nequc quale sit quod 
 dixit rcccnscrc possunt. Hx tibi totam pene concioncm ordinc rcferunt non 
 bine dclcctu ; si quid stulte, si quid impie, si quid extra rem eflutiit ecclesiastes 
 (qucmadmodum liodie iion raio fieri videmus) id norunt vol ridcre vcl nrgligcrc 
 vel dclcatiui. Atque hoc dcmum c^t audire sacras conciones; cum hujusmodi
 
 APPENDIX. 309 
 
 demum vere jucundum est conviverc. Plurimum enim ab islis dissenlio, qui 
 coHJiigcs non in alium usum babent quam ad obscqiiiiim vohiptatis, quam ad 
 rem magis apposiffe sunt semifatux. Pectus habcat oporfcf, qux faniiliam 
 contineat in officio, qus liberorum mores fingat ac formct, qux marito per 
 omnia satisfaciat. 
 
 Caetcrum cum proximo coUoquio illud objccissem Moro, quod si quid hu- 
 manitus accidcret, fore ut gravius discruciaretur earum desiderio in quibus in- 
 stituendis taiitum insumsisset operse, respondit incontanter, si quid accidcrit 
 quod viliari non potest, malim eas mori doctas quam indoctas. Moxque milii 
 venit in mcntem Pliocionis, ni fallor, apoplithegma, cui bibituro cicutam cum 
 uxor ncchimartt mi vir innocens morieris ; quid, inquit, ais uxor, anme vialles 
 nocentem mori ? Interim ilia cogitatio subiit animum meum, ut vos duos ceu 
 duces qnosdam cximios in boc laudis genere componam, veluti si quis Camil- 
 lum commiUat cum Scipionc Africano. Tu ct pluribus annis et iniquiore sc- 
 culo cum lilerarum hoslibus es contiiclatus, lioc carte calculo iloro superior. 
 Cseterum quod tu in filiis tantum ac fratribus ausus es moliri, hoc ille non du- 
 bitat et in uxoribus et in filiabus facere, fortiter confempla novi exempli invidia; 
 quo nomine vicissim ille te prxcellif. Tu rursum libris edilis ulriusquc litera- 
 ture proventum magis auxisti quam ille, copiosius eliam, uti nobis pollicemur, 
 in pobtcrum aucturus, si modo coeperis opes tuas a scriuiis dcpromlas.in po- 
 pulum cUirgiri. Quanquam ct a Moro magnum aliquid cxspcclat juventus, 
 quod ille mullum adbuc absit a scnectulc, ct patrem liabct non minorcm annis 
 octoginta mire vircnti senectutc, ut vix alium reperias qui bcllius gcstct seta- 
 lem ; uncle licet et Moro lougacvitatem ominari. &c. 
 
 Ex rure Anderlacensi, Anno 152! (Epist. 603.)
 
 ,310 APPENDIX. 
 
 Qulidmus Covrinus Nucerinus Fhilippo Montaiio, S. D. 
 
 QuoNiAM juxia Pjlliagorac scnteutiam oportet omnia esse commuiiia, reck- 
 coUogit Jiiiripidcs, et tlolorcs inUr amicos oporterc communes esse. Accipics 
 ii^itur, vir amicissimc, ab amicu minime laeta, seil omiii lacrymarum gciierc 
 bonis omnibus ticplorauda : quanquam arbitror iamam istuc jamdudum omnia 
 pcrtulissc priusquam ad nos, dc morte quorundam npud Anglos insignium 
 vjrorum, sed prxcipue Tbomae Mori, dum viveret ejus rcgai baronis inciyti, 
 ac supremi judici:>, qucm illi cancc4L»rium appellant. Qua dignitatc non est 
 apud cam gcntem alia major, cxcepto rege ; coque qunm proiiil, aurcum sccp- 
 trum imposila corona cxsarea gcslalur ad unum lams, ad alterum hbcr. Qux 
 vero sum narraturus, parlim e scbedis Galbce scriplis, quae Jiic circumfcrun- 
 tur, desumpsi, partim c rumoribus ; nam nihil burum vidi. ISed priust^uura 
 aggrcdiar, paucis dcscribam L/ondoniciisis urbis situni. 
 
 Civitas in latum angusfa, ad Thamysim flumcn sic in longnm porrccta est, 
 ut videatur non posse desinere, mide et nomcn videtur inditum; siquidim apud 
 Flandros loca mari vicina Dinien appellant. Indidem dictum videtur Gal- 
 iiarum Lugdunum, quasi dicas fo/igas ripas. Ad orienfem in extremo habet 
 arccm bene munitam, qua regcs interdum utuntur, vulgus Turrim appellat. 
 Sed in cadem servari solent yiri nobdi s, auf alias dignitatc quapiam prxmi- 
 nentcs, qui videntur aliquid adversus rcgiam majeslatem deliquisse. In allero 
 extremo ad occasum insignc monastermni est Benedictinorum, vulgus appellat 
 Wcstmonastcrium : ct buic proximiim regis palatium structune vcteris, sed 
 quo nunc regcs parum delectantur. Palatio adjuncta est domus spaciosissima, 
 nullis fulta columnis, in qua sedent judiccs. L'trumque xdUicium ilumini im- 
 minet, ut bine illinc cymba vebi possint. 
 
 In hac arce Thomas IVIorus posteaquam raultis mensibus fuisset captivus, 
 calend. Jul. ann. Dom. m.d.xxxv productus est ad modo diclam curiam, ca- 
 pitis causam dicturus apud tribunal judicum a rcgc delegatorum. Ibat reus 
 baculo innixus tarn longam viam, corporc gravi aegrotationc in carcere dcbili-
 
 APPENDIX. 311 
 
 tato, nihil tamen perturbationis vuUu prse sc ferens. Primum reciUiti sunt ar- 
 ticuli criminum quae illi objicicbantur. ISIox cancellarius qui Moro successit, 
 acdux -Nortfolciij hunc in modutn rciitn appcUarunt. 
 
 * En vides Magister More (sic appellant mediocri dignilate proeditos) to 
 graviter deliquisse in regiam majcslatem. Atlamen spcraraus tc, si niodo rc- 
 sipiscas, et abjures istam obstinatam opinioncin, in qua liactcnus tarn procacitcr 
 |)erstitisti, veniam a regis dementia consequuturum.' 
 
 Ad hsec Moras ' Domini mei, ego summo cordis afFectu ago vobis gra- 
 
 tias pro ista vestra arnica erga me voluntate : tantum illud oro Deum orani- 
 potentem, conftrmare dignefur mc in hac qua nunc sum sententia, ut in ea 
 perseverem usque ad mortem. Cseterum quum reputo quam prolixi quamque 
 graves arliculi sunt quibus oneror, vereor ne mihi nee ingenium suppetat, nee 
 memoria, ncc oratio qux sufficiat ad respondendum omnibus ; praesertim 
 quum in carcerc tam diu fuerim detentus, in quo gravi xgrolatione contraxi 
 corporis debilitatem, qus me nunc ctiara babet.' 
 
 Turn jussu judicum allata est sella, in qua sederet. Ubi consedisset, prosc- 
 quotus est institutum sermoueni hunc in modum. 
 
 • Quod ad primum attinet articulum, qui conafur osteiidere meam in re- ■ 
 gem malevolentiam in ncgotio posterioris matrimonii, contiteor ingenue, me 
 Semper restitissc illius serenissimx majcstati. Nee est animus super hoc nc- - 
 gotio quicquam aliud dicere, quam quod hactenus semper dixi, ad hoc urgente 
 me conscientia : per quam ut non debebam, ita nee volcbam princiiM;m meum 
 celare veritatcm. Nee liic est ulla proJitio qnx infenditur; quin potius, ni id 
 fecissem, prxsertim in re tanti momcnti, untie pendebat mea sententia, et prin- ' 
 cipis houos, et regni tranquillitas, turn vere fui.sscm, quod nunc objicitur, ma- 
 levolus, perfidus ac proditor. Ob hoe delictum (si modo delictum appellan- 
 dum est) gravissimas dedi pa.>nas, exufus omnibus facultatibus meis, ac pcr- 
 petuo addictus carccri, in quo menses jam quindecem totos fui detentus. Sed 
 his omissis tantum ad ca respondebo quse sunt liujus ncgotii prsecipua. Quod 
 objicitur, mc incurrissc in poeoara violatas constitutionis, qu« proximo con- •
 
 312 APPRNDIX. 
 
 silio proillla os(, mc jam in carcere agonto ; quasi malitioso anioio, ]iorfitliose, 
 ac proJitoric rcgix majestati dctraxerim famam, honorcm ac dignitatem qux 
 illi per diclam constiditioncm erat (ributa, videlicet quoJ ibi declaratnr snb^ 
 Jesu Ciiristo supremnm caput ecclesiw Anglicanx : inprimis res|iondel)o ad 
 hoc quod milii ol)jicitiir, quod Domino Secretario llcgis ac veneral)iii raajesta- 
 tis illiiis consil oiftu^ qux mea esset do hoc edicto sententia, nihil aliud 
 voluerim rcspondcre, quam me jam mundo mortuum esse, nee istiusmodi n&«! 
 godisnmplius ^olicitari, sod tantum metlitari in passione domini nostri Jesu 
 ChrisH. Dico me per islam vestram constitutionem ob hoc silcntium non posse 
 (1 .;5in;iri ca|>itis, co quod nee vestrum cdictum, nee uUx leges mnndi possuiit 
 qtieiiqnam ob silenfium a.lilicere morti, sed tantum ob dictum aut perpetratuni 
 faciuus. Dc occullis enim solus judical Deus.' 
 
 Ad haec respondit procurator regius interpellans : at tale silentium, inquit, 
 cvidcns argumentum est animi male senticntis de jam ilicta constitutione. Nam 
 omnis subditus sinccrus ac fidWIs regix majestati, si de dicta constitutione in- 
 terrogetur, tenclur ct obligatur citra omnem dissimul itionem respondere cate- 
 goric : cgium cdicium esse bonum, justum ac sanctum. 
 
 Ad qux IVIorus : ' Si verum est quod habetur in legibus, eum qni tacct 
 videri consentire, meum silentium confirmavit potius vestram constitutionem 
 quam improbavit. Jam quod dicis, omnem subditum fidelem obligari ut re- 
 spondeat caterorice si inlerrogclur, &c. rcspondeo, bonx fidci subditum 
 magis obligatum esse Deo, conscientix, et animx sux, quam ulli alii rci in 
 boc mundo, maxime si talis < onscicntia, qualis est mea, nihil ofi'cndiculi, nihil 
 scditionis pariat (i.minosuo. Nam illud pro certo vobis aflirmo, quod nuUi 
 raortalium unquam detexerim hac in re conscieutiam meam. 
 
 ' Vcnio nunc ad secundum accusationis caput, quo arguor contra dictam 
 constitutionem molitus ac machinatus fuisse, eo quod ad Kofii-nsem scripserim 
 octo pariaepislolarum, quibus ilium animarim adversus istud cdicium. Kqui- 
 dcm vehementer optarim epistolas hie proferri ac recitarri, qux me vel con- 
 vincerent vel liberarent. Cxierum quando illx, quemadmodum prxdicatis, 
 per episcopum exustx sunt, ipse non gravabor recitarc sententiam earum. In 
 earum quibusdam agebatur de uostris privatis negotiis, pro vctcre nostra ami-
 
 APPENDIX. 313 
 
 cida ac familiarUato. la ua;i qu:ulam conliticbatur responsum atl cpiscopi li- 
 (eras quibus scire cupicliat, quLl et quo pacto rcspon.lissL-in do ista coastitu- 
 tioiic. Ad id iiilul aliud lescripsi, nisi me jam meam composuLssu conscicrt- 
 tiain, i.>sc compoiiertt suam. Aiiiiiia; mese periculo, ac teste Deo vobls asse- 
 vcro, nii)il aliud ill illls Uteris a me scriptiim luisse ! Haniin igitur caiissa noii 
 possum iKf vestram coiisiifutioiicni addici mi)rti. 
 
 ' Superest tcrtiiis arficulus, qm intendif, nno.I quiiin de vpstra constitutiono 
 examinarcr, dixeriiu earn esse similcm gladio iitrii.qiie secanti, proptcrea quod 
 si quis vdlet cam scrvare, [x-rderet aiii.uain ; si contradicere, pcrderet corpus. 
 Idem q.ioniam, ut dicilis, re.poi.dit cpiscopiis Iluftbiisis, perspicunm esse infer 
 nos fuisse conspiratio.iem. Ad Uxc respondeo, me uu.iquam fuisse loquutum, 
 nisi coiiditionaliter : sic videlicet, si (ale asset cdictum, quaiis est ghidius utrin- 
 que incidcns, quo pacto posset quis evitare, quiri in allerum incideret pericu- 
 lura. If.ec mea fuit oratio. Qiiomodo rcsponderit episcopus, ncscio : si il- 
 lius oratio cum mea congruebat, id ncquaquam accidit ex conspirationc, sed 
 potius ex ini^eniorum ac doctrinaz similitudine. Brevitcr: illud pro certo ha- 
 betotc, menunquam qnicquam raalifiosc fuisse loquutum advcrsus vestram con- 
 stitutionem : at fieri potuit, ut ad benignam regis ciementiam aliquid malitiose 
 fuerit deiatura.' 
 
 Post hsEc vocati sunt per quondam ex ostiariis duodccim viri, juxfa gentis 
 illius consuetudinem, quibus traditi sunt articuli, ut super illis consultarent, ac 
 post consultationcm judicarcnt, ac pronunciarent, utrum Tliomas Morus mali- 
 tiose obstitisset prjcdictx constitution! regis, an non. Qui quum per horx 
 quartam partem secessissenf, reversi sunt ad principcs ac judiccs delegatos, ac 
 pronunciarunt guilty, hoc est, dignus est raorte. Ac mox per Dn. Caucella- 
 rium lata est sententia juxta tenorem novas constitution is. 
 
 His ita peractis Thomas Morus hunc in modum orsusest loqui: ' Age, quan- 
 do sum conderanatus, quo jure Deus novit, ad exonerandam conscientiam volo 
 liberius eloqui quod sentio de vestra constitutione. Primum illud dico, me 
 septem annis intendisse animum studiumque meum in istam causam, verum 
 hactenus in nuUo doctorum ab ecclciia probatorum repcri scriptum, quod lai- 
 VOL. I. S S
 
 •514 APPENDIX. 
 
 cu», aut ut vocant, sccularis, possit aut dcljcat esse caput status spiritualis aut 
 ecclesiastici.' Hie canc«;llarius intcrrumpens Mori sermouem, Dominc More, 
 inquit, itanc tu vis haberi sapicntior, nieliorisquc conscicntia: omnibus episco- 
 pis, tota nobilitate, toto denique regno ? Ail qnx Morus : Dominc, inquit, 
 Cancellarie, pro uno episcopo qucni iiabcs tux opiniouis, ego sanctos ct ortbo- 
 (loxos viros liabeo plurcs centum, mecum sentientes, et pro unico vestro con- 
 cilio, quod tale sit Deus novit, pro nie habeo omnia concilia generalia annis 
 ;ibbinc luiilc celebrata : et pro uno regno, babeo Franciam cseteraquc orbis 
 cbristiani regna omnia. Hie Dux Nortfokii interpelians : Nunc More, inquit> 
 pcrspicuc liquet tua malevolcntia. 
 
 Ad qu2 Morus : Mii/ Lord, (sic Angli compellant insigni dignilate prx- 
 stantes) ut hoc loquar non incitat nialevolentia, sed cogit necessitas ad exoner- 
 andam conscientiam meam, teste Deo, qui solus scrutatur corda hominum. 
 Prxtcrea dico et illud, constitutionem vestram esse, pcrpcram factam, eo quod 
 V()> professi estis, ct jurcjurando vosmetipsos obstrinxistis, nihil unquam moli- 
 turos adversus sanctum ccclesiam, qux per universam ditionem christianam 
 unica est, Integra et individua, neque vos soli ullam habctis anctoritalera citra 
 aliorum christianorum consensum condendi legem, aut instiluendi concilium 
 adversus unionem et concordiam christianitatis. IVec rae fugit, qnamobrcm a 
 vobis condcmnatus sim, videlicet ob id, quod nunquara voluerim assent ire in 
 negotio novi matrimonii regis. Confido autem de divina bonitale ac niiseri- 
 cordia, fore ut quemadmodum olim Paulus Steplianum pcrsecutus est usque ad 
 mortem, et tamen iidera nunc unaninies sunt in coelo, ita nos qui nunc dis- 
 cordes sunius in hoc mundo, iu future seculo paritcr simus Concordes, et per- 
 fecta charitate unanimes. Hac spc frctus precor Deuiu ut vos scrvet una cum 
 rege, cique dare dignetur bouos cousultores ! 
 
 His ita pcractis, Thomas Morus reductus est in Turrim. Hie obiter accidit 
 spectaculum ipsa condemnatione miserabilius. Margareta filiarum Mori natu 
 maxima, mulier prxter cximiam formae venustatem cum surama dignitate cou- 
 junctam, judiclp, ingenio, moribus et eruditione patris simillinia, per mediam 
 populi turbam, pcrque satclUluin n.rma semet injecit, ct ad parentcra peuctravit. 
 Quuui et mulier esset, et natura cumprimis verccuuda, tamen et metum et 
 pvidorera omtiem excusscrat impoicns animi dolor, cum audisset patrem in
 
 APPEND X. 51b 
 
 curia morti addictum esse. Hoc accidit priusquam Morus arcis portam in- 
 gredcretur. Ibi in carissimi parentis collurn irrucns, arctissimo complexu ali- 
 quandiu tcnuit eum. Cseteruin ne verbuni quidem ijiterim potuit proloqui. 
 Cur^e, inquit tragicus, Icves loquuntui, ingentes stupent. Movit stipatores, 
 tameisi duros, boo spectaculum. Horum i(aque permissu Morus his verbis 
 consolatus est filiam : Margareta, patienter feras, nee te discrucies amplius ; 
 sic est voluntas Dei; jampridem nosti secreta cordis mei : simulque dedit 
 osculum ex consuetudine gentis, si quern dimittunt. At ilia cum digressa esset 
 ad decern vel duodecim passus, denuo rccurrit, et amplexa parentcm rursus in- 
 lixsit collo illius, sed elinguis prse doloris magnitudine. Cui pater nihil lo- 
 quutus est, tantuni erumpebant lacrjmae, vultu taraen a constantia nihil di- 
 moto. Ncc aliud supremis verbis raandavit, quam ut Deum pro aiiima patris 
 deprecaretur. Ad hoc pietatis certamen plurimis e popular! turba lacrynijc 
 excidere. Erant et inter satellites, ferura et immite genus hominuni, qui la- 
 crymas tenere non potuerunt. Nee mirum, quum pietatis afFectus adeo valida 
 res sit, ut immitissimas etiam feras raoveat. Hie apud se quisque rcputet 
 quam valido ariete turn pulsatum sit Thorns Mori pectus. Erat cnim erga 
 suos omnes adeo (piAoVo^fos, ut non alius magis : sed earn filiam ut erat eximiis 
 praedita dotibus, ita diligebat impcnsius. Morum fortiter cxccpisse sententiam 
 mortis, aut etiam carnificis securim, minus admirandum existimo, quam pij- 
 tatcm erga suos potuisse vincere. Nihil enim addubito, quin hie doloris gla- 
 dius crudelius vulneravit Mori prseordia, quam ilia carnificis securis, quw 
 collum amputavit< 
 
 Die Mcrcurli scquente, hoc est septimo die Julii, productus est in planiciem, 
 qu^ est ante arccm. Mos est illic ut afficicndi supplicio, de ponte plebem al- 
 loquantur. At Morus paucissimis verbis est usus, tantum orans qui aderant, 
 ut pro ipso Deum orarent in hoc mundo, se vicissim in altero mundo precaturum 
 pro ipsis. Mox hortabatur atquc instanter rogabat, orarent Deum pro rage, 
 ut illi dignaretur impertire bonum consilium, contestans se mori fidelem ac 
 bonum regis ministrum, ac Dei inprimis. Uxc loquutus prompte constanti- 
 que vultu flexis genibus cervicem posuit securim exeepturus, non sine gravi 
 multorum gemitu. Erat enim bonis omnibus carissiraus. 
 
 Quae hactenus narravi, fere continebantur in scbeda apud Parisios jactata, 
 
 Ss 2
 
 .516 Ari'KNDlX. 
 
 :tc yxr inanus honiiaum vuUtaiUe. Quisqtiis au(om sciipsil, videtur ac(u> iii- 
 (crfuissc. Qux deinccps refeiam, pardm ex amicoriiiu Uteris, partini e riiino- 
 libus arco]ii. I'aucis ante ilicbus, li. c. XV. t'al. Julias Joatiiu's Fi>c)icrus, 
 cpiscoptis liulloiisiii, qui tuin vitx sancliiiiuiiia alque au:>(ci'ilali*, (uni aiimi- 
 iiistraiulLs sacramcntis, turn assiJuitato docciuii voce siinul et sciiplis, deniqiic 
 mira libcralilatc in egcnos, bciiignitate in studiuiius, vcruQi a^cbat cpi'icu]mni, 
 ex urcc dicia in qua captivo:} (enebatur, pruductus est, ct ad curiam, qua: ut 
 ante dixi, Wcstmonastcrio proxima est, fre(|uciili sati-llituin arinntorum sti- 
 patu jierduclus est, partiin navigio, parliiii cqiio, ob corjjusculi dcbilitatcm, 
 quam prxter xtalem auxerat carccris iricommodilas ; licet ipse valetudincin 
 suam semper ct jejuniis ct vigiliis ct studiis et laburibus ac lacryinis vebemcntcr 
 altenuasset. Jllc vero taroetsi non igiioraret ejus co^iiitiunis cuitum, nihil ta< 
 men porturbatus est, sed i^acido, ac prope ctiam ad bilaritatcm composito 
 vultu ad tribunal evocantil)US paruit. Ibi juxfa niorem ejus rogionis qui-ni antea 
 descripsi, sentcnlia capitali daranatus est, sujjplicium daturas, simulatque rcgi 
 visum csset. Hoc adjectum suspicor, si forte spc veniae ac supplicii nielu 
 j)osset a sententia deduci. Mortis genus oral ct fxdnm et Lorribile, quo tamen 
 fuerant aflTecti Cartnsiani aliquot, quos aiunt fuisse quindecim : quod ut crc- 
 (lim vix possum adduci. Carlusianis adjunctus est Keginaldus monaclius Bri- 
 gitlcnsis, vir aiigelico vnllu ct anselico spiritu, sanique judicii : quod ex illius 
 coUuquio comperi, quum in comitatu Cardinalis Campegii versarer in Anglia. 
 Nam Cartusianorum novi neminem. Aiunt ex his quosdam fuisse jjer viam 
 tractos, dein suspensos laqueo, ac spirantibus eliamnum exsccta iiitcstina-s 
 quosdam eliam exusfos igni, sed omnium incrcilihilcm fuisse constantiam. 
 Solet rumor rebus tristibus aliquid addere. At si liic vcrus et, vidctur Jioc 
 esse consilium eorum qui rcgio obsecundant aainio, ut immanitate suppliciorum 
 cxteros absterrcant. Nam facile divinabant, instituluin plurimis improbatum 
 iri, prxsertim ccclesiaslicis, ct rcligioiiis studio deditis. Sed ad Roffensem epis- 
 copura rcdco. 
 
 Is accepta tam horrendac mortis scntcntia, quum satcllilibus stipatus rcducc- 
 relur in arcem, ut ad ostium ventum est, versus ad satellites hilari placidoquc 
 vultu, Plurimam, inquit, optimi viri, vobis babco gratiam ))ro officio, quo 
 me euntcm et redeuntem deduxistis. Dixisses homiiicm ex Lilari suavique rc- 
 dire convivio, adco et color crat jticuiidior, ct ipse toto corporis gostu, quatenus
 
 APPENDIX. 317 
 
 ]jcr gravitatein licuit, Ixtitiam quaiidara prx se furebat, ut neoiiiii non essct 
 pcrspicuum, sarictissimum virum, ecu j.im portui vicinum, toto pectore ad 
 illara bcatam (ranquillitatem aspirate. Ncc din dilata est mors. Ad decimum 
 Cal. Julii producfus in planicieni, quani Angli vulgo dicunt furris coUera, 
 vultu non solum conslanti, verum uliara alacri, paucis alloquutus est populum. 
 Primum regi regnoque bene precatus est. Mox ardcnti magis quam prolixa 
 precatione seipsum Dei misericordiae commendavit : simuJque procurabens ia 
 genua, gracili et exliausta ccrvice securim excepit. Ntquc enim apud Anglos 
 carnifices gladio cervicem inciduut, sed damnato in truncum ad id apparatum 
 inclinaiiti, securi caput amputant. Quaiito cum animi dolore viderint iioc 
 sjjectaculiun quibus religio pietasque cordi est, et qui Ciirisli spiritura in pas- 
 tore operantem expcrti fucrant, facile quivis ex scse potcrit aestimare. Cxte- 
 rum quod mitiore poena affectus est, quam minabatur judicum sententia, sunt 
 qui in causa fuisse putent, quod nietucrint, tic scncx ct exhausto corpusculo, 
 si per viam tarn longam rlicda Iralieavc tractus fuisset, sponte cxpirareU Ego 
 suspicor, ob hoc mortis genus atrocius denuntiatum, ut iumianitate supplicii 
 Jerritus mufaret scntentiani. JVec desunt qui praedicant, ob hoc ipsum acce- 
 leratam mortem, quod Romanus pontifex Paulus tertius episcopura Koflcusera 
 ob iiisignem doctrinam ac pirtatem in cardinaliilm ordincm allegissct.- Ex ami- 
 corum literis cognovi, in Germania inferiore sparsum rumorcin, quura cpiscopi 
 Koffenhis caput csset in pontc Londoniensi de more exposilum, non solum non 
 cmarcuisse, verum ctiam magis effloruisse, vivoque factum similius, ut multi 
 crederent fore, ut etiam loqui inci[)cret : quod in quibusdam niartyribus fac- 
 tum legimtR. iJa res, seu fama, quum vulgo increbuisset, sublatuni est at- 
 qne abditum. Populus enim credulus txpe icvi quupiam occasione turbas in- 
 gentcs excitat. At veriti ne idem cvcnirct in oapitc IMori, pnusquam exponc- 
 letur, aqua fervenli decoctum est, quo plus habcret horroris. Usee aliaque 
 multa his similia pcxscribuntur e Flaiidria liritannis viciriiore : penes alios sit 
 fides. Utinam hue jjervu'nissent acta Hoffensis, qucniadmodum acta Mori 
 pcrvenerunl. E\ Mori responsis facile liquet, ilium ikstmasse mori citius, 
 quam sua; seutentix canere palinodiam. Quo animo videntur omucs fuisse qui 
 ante Morum cxtincti sunt. 
 
 Morum ac Rofiensem ct ilhid movit, opinor, quod qui bene natos, laute 
 cducatos, in honore babitos, in carecre dednct, non dat vitam, sed longiorem
 
 SIS- APPENDIX. 
 
 ct accrbiorcm mortem. Ego si regi ftiisscm in consilio, pro mca stultitia cona- 
 tus fuisscm illi pcrsuadcrc, ut pro sua solita cIcmciUia cx(crisquc virtutibiis, per 
 quas nomcii ipsius linctcnus erat apud omncs nationos o;ratio!>um et amabile, ab 
 iliis Oritannise luminibus, (otiqiic orbi notis abstiiicrd, aut ccrte pa?na mi(iore 
 coiileiitus cssi-t. Rursus, si qui pcrieruiit me adiiibuissciit in consilium, sua- 
 sisscm, nc se irruenti procella; paiain opponerent. Violenta res ira regum, cui 
 si incommode resistas, graviorcs cxcitat lumultus. Equi feroces, quemadmo- 
 dum ct tonitrua, iion vi scd popysmate Icniuntur. £t nautse non pugnant ad- 
 versus impotentem temjx'statcm, sed vel quictc vcl obliquis cursibus utentes 
 expectant coilum commodius. Multis rebus medetur tempus, quas nulla vi 
 possis eniendare. Res humans semper quidem fluctuant, sed quoties incidit 
 insignis aut fatalis rerum mutatio, midti pcriclitantur qui non cedunt turbini. 
 Veluti quum Julius Caesar aperiret januam tyrannidi, et triumviri junctis copiis 
 imperiurn orbis occiiparent, laudatissimi qniquc viri jierierunt, quorum erat 
 I't JVI. TuUius. Qui monarchis serviunl, iis quxdam dissimulanda sunt, ut si 
 jion qneant obtinere quod judicaverunt optimum, saltern aliqua ex parte mo- 
 derentur principum aflectus. Dixerit aliquis, pro veritate mortem oppeten- 
 dam. At non pro quavis veritate. Si tyrannusjubeat, aut abjura Christum, 
 aut pone cervicem : ponenda cervix. Sed aliud est silere, aliud abjurarc. Si 
 fas est tc dissimularc chiistianum cifra grave scandalum, raulto magis licuisset 
 hie esse taciturn. 
 
 .Sed ineple facio, qui de rebus tam arduis disputem, qui nunquam inter- 
 fucrim monarcbarum consiliis. Itaque de tola causa judicium aliis relinquo. 
 Illud satis constat, eos viros si quid j eccarint, nulla in regem malevolentia 
 pcccasse, sed simplici sinccraquc conscientia ernisse. Hoc sibi jicnitus per- 
 suascrant, hoc mcduUis intixum habebnnt, sanctum, pium, regi honoriticum, 
 ren-no salutare esse quod tuebantur. Arguinonto est, quod nullus illorum af- 
 fectarit regnum, aut alteri asserere conatus sit, nee uUam molitus sit seditionem, 
 aut ullas conlraxcrit copias, ac nc vcrbum quidem excidit odium conspira- 
 tionemve rcsipiens. Silen- cupiebant si licuiss< t, sed jiatienter ac placide mor- 
 tem exceperunt, nihil aliud quam regi regnoque bene prtcantes. At in atro- 
 cibus etiam criminlbus magnam cuipx partem excusat simplex ac pura con- 
 scientia, animusque non Ledendi, sed bene raerendi cupidus. Turn apud 
 efleras etiam nationcs frequenter cximix virtuti prxstantiquc doctrinae honos
 
 APPENDIX. Sl» 
 
 est habitus. Plafoni apud Aci^inelas juxta civKatis conslitutioncm capite plec- 
 tendo, profuit philosoplii cognomen. Diogenes impune penetravit in castra 
 Philippi regis Macedonum, ad quein pro expioratorc adductus, libera expro- 
 bravit regi insaniam, quod non contentus suo regno, semet conjiceret in peri- 
 culum ne perderet omnia. Non impune tanfura, scd cliam cum muncrc di- 
 missus est, non ob aliud nisi quod esset philosophus. Qucmadmodum rao- 
 narcharum in eruditos benignitas pluritnum honcsti nomiiiis iilis conciiiat, i(a 
 durius tractati plurimum invidiae eonflant illis. De liis pra^cipue loquor, qui 
 scriptis inclaruerunt apud omnes nationes, et quorum memoria videtur apnd 
 postcros futura gratiosa. Quis nunc non execralur Antonium, qui Ciceroneni 
 ferro peremit ? Quis non detcstatur Ncronem, qui Scnecam occiderit ? Ncc 
 minimum gratis decessit Oclavii Cajsaris nomirii, quod Ovidium ad Getas re- 
 iegarit. 
 
 Uxc nequaquam eo milii dicuntur, ut regera cliristianum cum impiis prin- 
 cipibus confcram, aut de negotio cujus circumstantias non novi pronuntiem, 
 quod etiamsi periculum abcsset, temcrariuin csset : sed ut ostendam quibus 
 rationibns fuerim conaturus persuadere, ut rex parceudo viris pietatis et erudi- 
 tionis commendationejam immortalitati cotisecratis, suo quoque nomini con- 
 suleret. Plausibilis semper est praepotentum dementia : sed turn clarissimos 
 fort applausus, qiioties viris illustribus ac dc rrpublica bene meritis impeudifur. 
 Omne solum forti patria est: et exilium fortibus ac pfaclaris viris ssepe cessit 
 feiiciter. Mortis invidia gravis est. Quum rex Galiiarum Ludovicus Xlf, 
 regnum adcptus pararet divortium cum Lodovici regis XJ, filia, Maria, ni 
 fallor, nomine, res displicuit quibusdam bonis; ex quibus Johannes Slandocli, 
 et hujus discipulus Thomas, in concione nihil aliud dixerant, nisi Deum oran- 
 dum esse ut regi inspirarct boniim coiisiliutn. Qnx apud populum dicuntur, 
 ad seditionem spectaiit : et lii deliqucrant advcrsus regis cdictum. Rex tamen 
 nihil aliud quam vertere solum jussit, nee qiiicquam aderait faculta(um : at 
 idem negotio quod agcbat confccto, revocabat eos. irric moderatione rex ille 
 et suo consuiuit institute, et gravem invidiam cvilavit, quod uterque csset 
 theologus, uterqu&saiictilatis opinione commcndatus. 
 
 At Thomac Mori mortem dcplorant et ii, quorum institufo pro viribus ad- 
 versabatur; tantus erat hominis in cranes candor, lauta comitas, tanlaquc
 
 3^0. .\PPi:\DlX. 
 
 beiiignilas. Qumi illc \\\ mc(li<>criler eni.Iiluin ab se diiuiait iiulonaliim ." 
 Ant qiiis fiiit Jam alicnus, ilc q<io iidii stiiduoiit bcno lUTcri ? MaUI n.m tUvcnt 
 nisi siiis, Cialli Giillis, G "rmaiii Gerni;jtiis, .Sco(i Scolis ; at ille in Ilibcrnos, 
 \n Cicrmanos, in CJiUos, in Soytlias cl (ados aiuico fuil aiiimo. li.ec naliirx 
 bniiijiiitas sic IMoriim dinniuin aiiirais ijcnitiis iiifixif, lit iioii sfcus ac paiviitcm 
 nut fratrcm plorcnt cxtincliini. Iq'sc vidi inuUoriim lacryinuK, qui iicc vidcraiit 
 Moriim, nee ullo oflicio ab co fucratit alll-cli : ac mllii qiioquc tlinn lixc sciibo, 
 iiolcnli ac rcpiignarili iacrynia; prosiliuiit. Quamodo nunc afl'cctura cro'liiiius 
 Eiasmii.n nostrum, ciii cum Moro (:im .arcia iuit aaiicilia, ut prorsus, jiixtu 
 I'jthagoram, in diiobus e:idem Cb.sc vidcri'tiir aiiiina? lAjiiidciu iiiiscre mcliia, 
 no bonus illo sencx suo Moro commoruitur, si lamcii udliuc in vivis est. Sunt 
 qui nos consolantur boc argumciito, quod dicuiil, lioii dcplorandos esse, sed 
 • gratiilauibim potius lis, qui tali mortc vitam /inicrunt. Est istud, fateor, noa 
 love doloris Ion imen : at ego i\lorum optarim intolumcm, quum omnium stu- 
 diosorum gratiu, fiiin vcro pi.tcipiie taniilia? causa, quam ct numerosam et 
 plane philosopliicam rcliquit : (Ilium natu miniuiurn jam maritum ac libero- 
 rum parentcm, filias (res, et lias nuptas ac libcroruni matres, cruditas omnes, 
 ac sub paterna disciplina ad chrLstianain pbilosopliiam pulclirc institutas, uxo- 
 rcm fidelcm, ac jam anum, ex qua lamen nullam prolem sustulit. ITas omncs 
 cum spoMsis, nepolibus ac nrptibus in unis a'dibusakbaf, tanta rcligionc, lau- 
 (aq'.ie concordia, quan(am uou (cmcre repcrias in collegiis monacboruni ac vir- 
 ginum. Hie niibi cogita, vir op(ime, qui luc(us, quae lacrymae, qui gcmi(us, 
 qui dolorcs totam ilLam (limiliam confidant. Quot egregias animas vulneravit 
 ilia securis, quae Mori caput amputavit ? mulli demirantes rogant, quid tanli 
 sccleris commiserit vir semper habitus innoceiitissimis moribus ? Quibus vix 
 liabco quod pro comperto respondeam, nisi quod parliin conjicere licet ex arli- 
 culis "Moro objectis et ill ius rcsponsionc, partira ex amicorum Uteris ac fama 
 vulgata discere datur. 
 
 Rex, ut omnibus notissimum est, aliquot annis moliebatur rcpudium cum 
 regina Caroli Cxsaris matcrlcra, Morus prxsagicns quo res cssct cvasura, ultro 
 deposuit canccliarii munus, alia quxdain causatus, ne cogeretur ejus negotii 
 exequutor esse, quod apnd sese non probabat. Erat enim mentis tam religiosae, 
 ut propior esset superstitioni quara impietati. Sic cogitabat ; privato licebit 
 quiescere : canccUario, qui os est regis, non licebit. Videbat fore, ut cogcrc-
 
 APPENDIX. 321 
 
 tur multos coiidemnare morte, quos judicabat oplimos : ad hxc exitum tanti 
 ncgotii incertuni esse, ob ccclesiasticoruin poteiitiam ac gentis ilUus solitam in 
 reges ferociam. Tale si quid natum fuisset, prima victima fuisset cancellarius. 
 At me si Morus in consilium adhibuisset, quum asset tarn anxie religiosa con- 
 scieiitia, dehortatus fuissem eum ne susciperet dignitatem. Vix cnim fieri po- 
 test, ut qui in arduis principiim functionibus versantur, in magnis pariter ac 
 parvis jiistitiam ad unguem observent. Proinde milii gratulantibus quod talem 
 haberem amicum ia tanto rcrum fastigio coUocatum, respondete soleo, me non 
 prius illi de ejus dignitatis accessione gratulaturum quam juberet ipse. Jam 
 turn enim nescio quid sinistri praesagiebat animus. Nee regem arbitror latuisse, 
 quam ob causiim Morus dcponeret magistratum, itcunque dissimulavit : quod 
 Homerus indicat, monarchis esse proprium, offcnsionem in aaimo tegere, donee 
 multo post tempore detur ulciscendi opportuuitas. 
 
 Interim rex minis ac fulminibus Clementis VII factus irritatior, adjecit ani- 
 mum ad vetus illius regionis excmplum, ut regnum a jure pontificis Romani 
 assereret, et utriusque status suprcmam potestatem sibi viiidicaret. Caiterum 
 quum senfiret, plurimorum aninios ab hoc instituto abhorere, ue qua coorirc- 
 tur seditio, promulgatum est edictum, ut quicuiiqiie non abjuraret Romani 
 pontificis autoritatem, aut improbaret novum matrimonium, capitalis tssef. 
 Verum hoc edictum non est promulgatum, nisi Roifcnse ct Moro jam ductis in 
 custodiam. Roll'ensis semper plurimum tribuit sedi iiomauae, et ail versus re- 
 pudium libris etiam conscriptis pugnarat, sed turn quum adhuc integrum esset 
 consulere. Morus scripsit nihil, sid pro oHicio quod gcrebat, conabatur regis 
 animum in earn inflectere sentcntiam, quam putabat et Deo gratam, et regi 
 tutam, et regno salutarem. 
 
 Erat illi magna familiarifas cum episcopo Roffense ; turn praediuni quod ha- 
 bebat Morus non procul abtrat a Richemonda. Ibi regio palatio vicina sunt 
 duo monasteria vehementer opulcnta, ct quod majus esl, bona: disciphnie, al- 
 terum Cartusianorum, alterum Brigittensiura. Ab his facile credidcrim solli- 
 citatum Mori animum, ut ecclesiai causam tueretur : at ipsum aliquid efFutisse 
 quod rebellionem saperet, nuiiqiiam sum credilurus, ut qui ex crebris colloquiis 
 perspexerim admirabilcm quaudam hominis cautionem. Ecquidcm vix alium 
 
 Vol. I. T t
 
 322 APPENDIX. 
 
 Anglum comperj, qui fam racduUitus amarit priiicipem suum, aut magU ex 
 animo bene vcllcf, qtiam iUc. 
 
 Unde igitur Lie tumultus? Violenta res est, conscicntia magis mctucns Deum 
 offciKlcre, quiuu mortem oppetcre. Forte fcfcllit eum pcrsuasio. At demiror 
 si vir ille levibus argumentis adductus e^t, ut sic obfirmaret animum. Maluit 
 ipse perpeli, quam in alios facere, quod necesse fuisset, si in suscepto munerc 
 perse verassct. Quin et rcgins veteris, singulari pietate foemince multos miseret, 
 non lantum ob id, quod dudum tanta dignitate florens, nunc in eum statum 
 ledacta est, ut ob divortium nee eo frui possit quicum lam diu vixit, ncc al- 
 Icri nubere ob Clemenlis sentcntiam : verum ctiam quotl vidct, non dubium 
 quin cum summo animi dolore, ipsius causa tales viros trucidari. IIuJus porro 
 tragocdiai quis sit futurus exitus, Deus novit. Jllud in confesso est, per necem 
 beali Tbomx Acrensis, plurimum ct auctoritatis et opum accessisse statui cccle- 
 siastico apud Anglos. Qui res mortalium suo imperscrutabili consilio mo- 
 deratur, pro sua bonitatc dignabitur brcc omnia vcrtere in snam gloriam. 
 Tantum e scheda, rumoribus et amicorum Uteris, hacfcnus licuit cognoscerc : 
 si comperliora fuero nactus, tibi coramunicabo. Tu fac vicissim ut per te scia- 
 mus quid agat rex Sion cum suis prophclis, populoquc retincto, dc quibus 
 hie mira Ibruntur, an vera nescio. Apud Lutetiam Parisiorum X. Cal. Au- 
 susti Ann. m.u.xxxv.
 
 APPENDIX. 323 
 
 CLARORUM ET DOCTORUM VIRORUM VARIA 
 EPIGRAMMATA IN LAUDEM THOMiE MORI. 
 
 MORI VIRTUTES DESCRIPT^ PER T. STAPLETONUM. 
 
 Est virtutis amans, cui nulla scieatia cordi est : 
 
 Sunt Uteris clari, quos virtus nan tamea ornat : 
 
 Est qui ulrumque tenet, tractare at publica nescit 
 
 Munera ; sunt haec qui feliciter omnia possunt. 
 
 Sed quibus infauste res tota domestica currit : 
 
 Invenias alium, cui sint hxc omnia, at idem est 
 
 Moribus insuavb, severus, durus, agrestis : 
 
 Hie sectatur opes, alius conquirit honores, 
 
 Et maculat multas hoc uno crimine laudes: 
 
 Et qui haec cuncta tenet, vitio quoque purus ab omni, 
 
 Sed moriens latet, atque obscura morte quiescit. 
 
 Unus erat Morus, nuUi (1) pietate secundus, 
 
 Ingenio, (2) literis clarus ; qui (3) munera gessit 
 
 Maxima : qui (4) contemtor opum, (5) contemtor honorum, 
 
 (6) Familiam et proles rara virtute gubemat. 
 
 (7) Candidus et suavis, regi populoque jucundus. 
 
 (8) Martyrio illustris concludit cuncta beatus. 
 Virtutum I'uit haec encjclopaedia Mori. 
 
 VARIA EJUS ERUDITIO : PER EUNDEM. 
 
 Vis scire in literis, quis, et quid esset 
 Thomas ille Morus, decus suorum ? 
 
 Tt2
 
 324 APPENDIX. 
 
 Orator fuit clogans, discrtus : 
 Festi/iis fuit ct pocta suavLs. 
 Non Gra;cum sccus ac Latiiia callens. 
 Nee callct moJo ; sed tuetur ilia, 
 Liiigiiartim liaud sccus advocatus accr, 
 Quam legum lucrat Bntaiinicarum. 
 Scribendae historix arlifex pcritus. 
 Res gests satis hoc docent Ricliardi 
 Aiiglorum gravis et feri tjranni. 
 Quantus philoboplius, doccre possunt 
 Leges Utopia? rcccns rcpcrlx. 
 In sacris lilcris, patrumque libris 
 Quid Morus valuit, probant labores, 
 Quos contra hercticos domi forisque 
 Scribcndo tulit : hos libris Latinis 
 (Sunt testes Pomeranus et Lutherus) 
 lllos vernaculis pie rct'ulans. 
 Ingens e quibus edidit volumen, 
 Anglis fructiferum ; clegans volumen. 
 Nee vult dogmatibus vocare solis ; 
 Sed per quos pietas, salusque mentis 
 Augmentnm capiat, dedit libellos : 
 Angli quos avide legunt libellos, 
 Nee quicquam utilius legi fatcntur. 
 Qui pro dogmatibus legenda scripsit 
 Dat pro dogmatibus caput securi. 
 Ilic major calamus, liberquc major : 
 Ilunc, liunc postcritas librum revolvat. 
 
 NOMINIS AITIOAoriA : PER EUNDEM. 
 
 More, nee es ISIaurus, quod vox sonat Anglica IVIori, 
 Nee fatuus, quod vox attica, ftt^fUy habef. 
 
 Scilicet infausti eorrexil nominis omen 
 lit vigor et candor maximus in«:«nii.
 
 APPENDIX. 325 
 
 DE REGE HENRICO VIII, ROFFENSI ET MORO : EJUSDEM. 
 
 Cur bonus in prima florens, Henn'ce, juventa, 
 
 Impius in (enebris uisima fata trahis? 
 Nempe quia extinxti duo luuxima lumiaa regni: 
 
 Roffeusis Phoebus, Cynthia Morus erat. 
 Prsefuit ille sacris ; terrennis prsefuit iste. 
 
 Extinctis pereunt sacra, profana simul. 
 
 JANI VITALIS, ITALI. 
 
 Dum Morus immeritx submittit colla securi, 
 
 Et flent occasum pignora cara suuiu ; 
 Imo ait, infandi vitam deflete tyranni : 
 
 Non moritur, facinus qui grave morte fugit. 
 
 JOHANNIS SECUNDI, HAGIENSIS. 
 
 Quis jacet hie truncus ? cujus caput ense recisum est 
 
 Quae natat in tetro sanguine canicies ? 
 Hie est ille Thomas Morus. Sic facta rependunt 
 
 Tristia raulta bonis, et bona multa malis. 
 Qu3e circumsistunt divx lugubre cadaver ? 
 
 Diva tenax veri : sancta fides : Nemesis. 
 Quarum prima fuit causa et fuit altera mortis ; 
 
 Ultrix iojustse tertia caedis erit. 
 
 ALIUD, EJUSDEM. 
 
 State viri. Forte hos cineres novisse juvabit. 
 
 Hunc tumulum Morus colla resectus habet 
 Ille decus regni quondam et nunc dedeeus AngU, 
 
 Quod tulerat talem, quod modo sustulerit "[
 
 3?G APPENDIX. 
 
 llli lit salva foret pictas, pridcm aula rclicla est. 
 
 Salvo lit perdcret vila relicta modo est. 
 Fide Thoma. Quantam noUcs, vindicta paraliir. 
 
 Rcgalcsquc tiiis manibus inferix. 
 
 ALIUD, EJUSDEM. 
 
 Ad Styga cum Mori venisset flebilis umbra, 
 
 Pallidulum largo sparsa cruore caput ; 
 Portilor ingemuit, (rux Cerberus ora reprcssit, 
 
 Pcrseplioric falsis immaduit lacrymis. 
 Et, quern rex letlio iiifami damuarat adulter, 
 
 Absolvit St^gii judicis urna rcum. 
 Ilium rex Ercbi, pro constanti probitatc, 
 
 Addidit infernis judicibus socium : 
 Ca:dis ut authorem ; fuerit cum morfe peremptus, 
 
 Addicat diris suppliciis meritum. 
 Virentem intcrea infestet lorva umbra tyrannum 
 
 Semper, et ante oculos sanguinolenta volet. 
 Et vos Eumcnides sparsis per coUa colubris, 
 
 Illius ultrices tcndite in ora faces. 
 
 EJUSDEM SECUNDI NiENIA, IN MORTEM THOMiE MORI. 
 
 Extinctum flemus crudeli funere Morum 
 Et regem immanem, veneremque cruore madcntcm, 
 Fortunaeque vices, ct laesae pellicis iram. 
 Vos mihi pierides feralia carraina mus» 
 Dictate, et mecum vatcm lugete peremtum, 
 Insignem cythara ; qui vos persxpe solebat 
 Vertice ab Aonio molli deducere versu. 
 Tuque adeo mihi, Calliope, quse regia facta, 
 Et casus raiseronim hominum cantare perita cs, 
 Nee coedcs exhorrescis memorare cruentas.
 
 APPENDIX. 327 
 
 Dextera ades, Tu vero crato, tu blanda Tlialia, 
 Trimcatnm inlerea tuimilo componite corpus, 
 Exequias celebrate, aspcrgite floribus urnam, 
 Et tumulo castos aspiret laurus odores, 
 Sacrum laurigeri vatis complexa sepulcbrum, 
 
 Te quoque deflerem divuni venerandc sacerdos, 
 Roffensis praesiil populi, qui dura subisti 
 Fata prior, sancta pro reUigione tu,enda : 
 Sed vatem canimus vates ; tua maxima liicta 
 Vulgabunt alii, et praeclara volumina condent, 
 Attolientque tuura super aurea sidera nomen. 
 
 Tempus erat, mundi cum jam adventante ruina, 
 Occideret senio justum, et labefacfa deorum 
 Relligio caderet, tot sustentata per annos. 
 Mortalesque fidem tota de mente fugassent ; 
 At dolus, et fastus, curaque impietate libido- 
 Ambitioque, et livor edax, fulvi et sitis auri, 
 Grassantes late, qua sol subllmis utrumque 
 Aspicit oceanum, geminas quaquc aspicit arctosj 
 Miscebantque profana sacris, et sacra profanis. 
 Turn furiae ex imis erebi emersere tenebris, 
 Sanguineas capitum quatientes undiquc cristas, 
 Armatx facibus, phlegetonteoque veneno. 
 Nee mora, coeruleos subito pctiere Britannos, 
 Fatorum gnarae, tempus namque adfore norant, 
 Cum rex Hcnricus despreto conjugis usu. 
 In vetitos rueret thalamos famosus adulter, 
 Atque alias taedas, alios celebrans Hymcnxos, 
 Mentis inops, regni indotatam in parte locaret, 
 Vilem animam, et nullo majorum sfemmate fulfam : 
 At regina prior, tbalamis ejecta maritis, 
 Ingratura in lachr mis et luctu duceret sevum ; 
 Ilia quidem magni de sanguine Ferdinandi,
 
 32S APPIiNDIX. 
 
 Primus qui Alauros rcgnis cxcgit avitis, 
 Quo nuiiquam Hcspcria rrgnasset major in era, 
 Ni sua progenies majori nuniine, Caesar, 
 Mundi sccptru teiiens, titulos superasset avorum. 
 
 At postquam dirx subierunt regia tccta 
 Eumenides, tremuit (alius, sic conscius jelher 
 Ilorruit, Occanus paler, et circumflua Tethys 
 Imis delitucre vadis. Rex ipse, maritus 
 Jam novus, inprimis et adhuc coniplexibus hscrens, 
 Exfimuit facti poeuas, iramquc deorum. 
 lUx aut< m ut videre novos celebrari Hymcnacos, 
 Gaudebant pariter Dirac, pariterque dolebaat : 
 Criminc gaudebant, sed non authoribus ipsis. 
 Patratura doluere nefas, niniiumque potcntem 
 Et vencrem, et voluc is (ela indignaiitur Amoris. 
 Ergo aliud meditanlur opus, dirumquc frementcs, 
 Pellicis insinuant atrum in praecordia virus, 
 Et stolido rcgi eripiunt raentemque animumque. 
 
 Ele scelus firmare suum majoribus ausis 
 Enitens, scelcri scelus adjicil, et conlemptis 
 Pontificis summi monitis, (quibus ille jubebat, 
 Ejiceret moecham, (iuilamique in jura vocaret 
 Legitimam uxorem, solitoque ornaret honore) 
 Ipse sibi jus pontificis, nomenque sacratum, 
 Quara late sua regna patent, usurpat, et omnem 
 Sacrilegus veterem convellit relligionem ; 
 Et gravius peccat, ut non peccassc puletur. 
 
 Egregia interea pcllex qux gaudia sentit ? 
 In quorum jugulos miserum non armat amautem .' 
 Prsecipue, si quos probitas suspecta, et houcsti 
 Prodit amor ; More inlelix, sic te tua virtus
 
 APPENDIX. 335 
 
 Perdidit ? o £Bvi scelus atquc infaraia nostri. 
 Tu regui decus, et regi carissimus idem 
 Consultor fueras, nee judex aequior alter 
 Jura dabat, qua pensant hcu mcrcede laborem 
 Fata tibi ? poteras illxsaiti ducere vitam, 
 Sed minus esse probus. Vi(x quam dura rclf-fa 
 Coaditio fait insonti ? si vera professiis, 
 Fatalena exciperet cana cervice securim : 
 Sin vitam falsa vellet ratione tueri, 
 Applaudens stupris, infandxque ambitioni, 
 Pollueret morcsque suos, vitamque priorcm, 
 Otfen&araque hominis, mutaret numinis in;. 
 
 Ille autem justique (enax, cultorqiie deorum, 
 Sponte sua ferro caput obtulit, et procumbens 
 Purpureum sacro fudit de pcctore rivum. 
 
 Fortunate sencx animi, tibl regia cojli 
 Tota patct, tibi rex supeium victricia serta 
 Porrigit ipse raanu, magno applaudente senatu 
 Coelicolum, et volucres reciimnt poeana ministri. 
 Omnes intonsi, niveis in vest ibus omnes ; 
 Quales ad vitreum mceandri flunien olores 
 Mille volant, plauduntque alis, el dulce cancnles 
 Ca3ruleum nitidis prartexunt aitbera pennis. 
 
 Quis tibi turn sensus, mcestissima Margarelta, 
 Nata patris miseri ? quanto tua lumina fletu 
 Unclabanl ! quanfos, eheu, de p<'ctore anhclo 
 Ducebas gemitus, corpus cum flebile patris 
 Exaniniuni aspiceres indigna csdc peremti ? 
 Nam te credibile efit, quanquam patris inclyla facta 
 jT:U'rnam tibi conciliant femamqne decnsque, 
 Non potuisse oculos compesccre tempore in illo, 
 Vol. I. U 11
 
 330 APPENDIX. 
 
 Quill durum Acres casum, patrisque cruorein 
 Ablueres lacrymis, et circunifusa cadaver 
 Osculu pallidulo ferres moribunda paieiiti. 
 Tu (amen has aufcr tenero de pectorc curas, 
 Nee lacrymis corriimpc tuos, pulclicrriin;i, vultus. 
 Sic tc Plicebus amet, sic, 6 doctissima virgo, 
 Adjiciat iiumcro te Calliopcia sororum. 
 
 Interea truncutn jacet et sine nomine corpus, 
 Spectaculum populo dirum : at polluta cruore 
 Canicics, ne quid sceleris restaret inausuni, 
 Ncu tantos xtas ncscirct sera furores, 
 Pra?(ixa infanii spectanda exponitur Iiasta : 
 Deformata tameu primum ferventibus undis, 
 Duceret informcs donee cutis aspera rugas, 
 Labraque in horrendos tralierentur luridu rictus : 
 Nc, quod Roflensi acciderat, sufl'usa ruborc 
 Mortua vilaiem prceferrent ora calorem : 
 Turbarentque pium rursus miracula vulgus. 
 
 f Hocne tuse veneri, rex 6 inceste, tropxum 
 Erigis ? et mollem placari sanguine divam 
 Posse pufas ? iras in te convertet acerbas 
 Ipsa Venus, vindexque tuos subvertet amores : 
 Atque aliis iteruni, atque aliis tua pectora flammis 
 Uret, ut infamis veniant tibi tietlia vilae. 
 Tunc, raeraor indignx caedis, tua noxia facta 
 Flebis, et invisa sumcs de pcllice poenas. 
 
 Peliseus juvcnis furiisagitatus, et ira 
 Incandens, multoquc animum infiammatus iaccho, 
 Dilectum ante alios inter convivia Ciitum 
 Transfodit ferro, et resparsit sanguine mensas : 
 At postquam furor ille animi discussus, et oranis 
 Consumptus vini vapor est, mcutemque rcccpit,
 
 APPENDIX. 33J 
 
 Ipse manus inferre sibi, sociumque per umbras 
 Vellc sequi, et miseros incassuin fundere qucstus. 
 Trcsque adeo moeslus soles, totidem quoqiie nocles 
 Exegit lacrymans, luctu confiisus acerbo 
 Ne quicquam ; ncque criim lucfu revocanfur acerbo 
 Pullentes aniraae, quns per vada laiiguida vexit 
 PortUor, atqiie avido trajectos tradidit orco. 
 Tu quoque dilectum frus(ra plorabis amicum, 
 Cum tibi discusso mens pura redibit amorc. 
 Iiitcrca boirifica rurapet tua somnia forma 
 Umbra viri, muKoque caput foedata cruore^ 
 Quo te cunque feres dira occursabit imago, 
 Supplicium ssevis exposcens horrida faclis. 
 Namque tuis donee regnis exutus, et exul, 
 Extrcmam implorabis opcm rcrum omnium egenus, 
 j\Iorus inuUus erit. Nulla est violentia longa : 
 O indictaeque moram poena graviore rependunt 
 Numina, justitiara quorum baud effugerit ulius- 
 
 At nos sternum tua tristia funera, More,^ 
 Insolabiliter deflebimus ; 6 bone vates, 
 Tu mortem sancta pro relligione subisti 
 Crudelem. Tibi divinos pro talibus ausis 
 Mortales debent cuitus, (ibi templa, (ibi aras. 
 yEternnm, venerande senex, salvcque, valeque, 
 Seu colis El^-sium, seu coeli lucida templa ; 
 Accipe et bunc nostrum non dura fronte laborcm. 
 
 JACOBI EXERICHI, HISPANL 
 
 Henricus Morum gladio jugulavit iniquo ; 
 
 Tam dignum vita, quam fuit ipse nece. 
 Mortuus ille tamen vivet per secula cuncta, 
 
 Post mortem virtus vivcrc sola facif. 
 
 Uu 2
 
 332 APPENDIX. 
 
 JACOBI LATOMI, BELG-S:. 
 
 Quid tibi cum Moro, <ali irulignissima cive 
 
 Anglia ? quid pergis dict-rc iiiepta tuum ? 
 Tu ferro insontem, iiec simplicc inorte, Catonem 
 
 Persequeris : tuto nee licet esse pium. 
 Proinde sile. Nam quo maculam tibi deraeret istara, 
 
 Ipse sibi patriam condidit Utopiam. 
 
 GENTIANI HERVETI, AURELIANENSIS. 
 
 Quod capiti quondam Ciceronis rostra fuerc, 
 
 Hoc est pons capiti, More diserte, tuo. 
 Oucentes Angli suspiria pcctore dicunt : 
 
 Doctior et melior nullus in orljc fuit. 
 
 JO. VULTEI, RHEMENSIS. EX LIB. II. EPIGRAMMATUM. 
 
 Hie situs est Thomas Morus, tuus, Anglia, vatcs> 
 
 Turba Poetarum quern cecidisse gemit. 
 Dum regum docte metuendos aduionet enses, 
 
 ilium caruificis rex jubet ense mori. 
 Ilium amor et cbaritcs dcfleiit, dcflentque Camoenx : 
 
 Nee damnum credit, qui sapit, esse leve. 
 Gallia quid possit, testisque Britannia ; testis 
 
 Italia, et semper Grscia testis erit. 
 
 MAXIMILIAN: WIGNACURTII, ATREBATIS. 
 
 Quae fuit integritas, qux vis, qux copia fandi, 
 Quae mens, JNlore, tibi, sat tua scripta docent. 
 
 ^ui Cbristi fuerit transAxum pectus amore, 
 Tradita tcstantur sat tua membra necu
 
 APPENDIX, 333 
 
 Scilicet ut rairis vixisti dofibus auctus, 
 
 Te decuit miro pectore, More, mori. 
 Vita tibi fucrat feiix ; feiicior at mors, 
 
 ^tcrno vitam munere quae peperit. 
 Ordo tuus per te micat uno lumine : sed sunt 
 
 Instar multorum luraina multa virum. 
 
 lOANNIS WHITE, EPISC. VINTONIENSIS, IN DIACOSIO MAHs 
 
 TYRION. 
 
 Quin etiam partes vulgato codice nostras 
 
 Propugnat scripfor maximus Utopix. 
 Fcssus ad authoris melius te scripta remitto ; 
 
 Rarus in orbe liber ; nee tamea Utopiae est. 
 lUius similes, imo multo meliores 
 
 Invenies libros, lector ; at Utopis. 
 Et Mori similes, imo multo meliores 
 
 Scriptores vidcas, lector; at Utopiae. 
 
 ALANI COPI, LONDINENSIS. 
 
 Quis vivente velit Thoma non vivere Moro ? 
 Quis Moro nolit sic moxiente mori ? 
 
 ALIUD, EJUSDEM. 
 
 Mortuus an Morus, qui sic in mortis agone 
 
 Vixerat, ut mors sit victa coacta mori ? 
 Imo piis morum meritis nunc vivit et orbi. 
 
 £t pura mentis relligione Deo. 
 
 JOANNIS FOULERI, BRISTOLIENSIS, IN MORI EFFIGIEM. 
 
 EfEgiem quamcunque tui sic fingimus ; at non 
 Tam facile est mores fingcrc, More, tuos.
 
 331 APPENDIX. 
 
 Quam vcllem pictor milii tain pcrfcctus adcsset, 
 
 Pingere qui vcrc posset utramqiic simul. 
 Turn quoqiic qui vilain totam mori-squc rcferrct, 
 
 Ille magis inulto doctus Appellc foret. • •' f-ii:- - 
 
 HENRICI HOLLANDI, VIGORNIENSIS. 
 
 Ergo quid ? ad nostros siculi venere tyranni ? ^■<. 
 
 An terris nostris Africa monstra dedit ? 
 Nam furit Lie Gotthus, dum Symmaclius afque Joannes 
 
 Aniiltiint carum luortc fureiitc caput ! 
 Dum jacct Albinus, dumque urbc Hoetius alma 
 
 Expulsus Ticini tristia fata gemit ? 
 Sjevit Alexander Magnus ? Clitumquc fidcloin 
 
 Enecat ? et vitam Parmcnionis bahet ? 
 An Nero sanguineus nostris dominatur in oris, 
 
 At que tibi vitam, Senncca docle, rapit? 
 Hoc facit Ilcnricus quod tunc Nero pcssimus cgif, 
 
 Dum te, More, nccat, dum tua colla sccat. 
 Senneca niorte perit, quia vult Nero ; tu qnoque More, 
 
 Dum vult Hcnricus, spicula mortis habes. 
 Arbitrium pro lege fuit, quod Senneca luxit ; 
 
 Arbitrium, quod te, More, perire facit. 
 Ut non est mirum, si sic Nero tollat amicum, 
 
 Qui matrem fato sustulit ante suam ; 
 Sic non est mirum, si rex te. More, nccarct, 
 
 Qui Icrus in matrem saeviit ante suam. 
 Non mirum est, aliis si vipera sxva nocerct, 
 
 Cum propria malri vipera sreva nocet. 
 Ilenrici mater sancta est cccle&ia Christi, 
 
 Hanc prius afllixit, quam tibi. More, nocet. 
 Et quia communem nolles pessundare matrem, 
 
 Fata sub innniti rcgc cruenta subis. 
 Quod genus hoc monstri ? cur sic rex barbare, frendis ? 
 
 An, quia vult matri parccre, Morus obit ?
 
 APPENDIX. 335 
 
 Non licet iiigenuis nalis dcfcndcre raatrcm r 
 Aa scelus est veram non violare lidem ? 
 Scilicet Henrico placuit proportio prava : 
 
 Non parcit membro, dum premit illc caput. 
 Qui graviora patrat, non illc minora tinicbit, 
 
 Et scelus audaces ad mala plura facit. 
 Culpa trahit culpam : comitatur abyssus abjssum : 
 
 Poena est peccati pessima culpa sequens. 
 Cum rex legitimse fecit divortia sponsse, 
 
 Venit et ad thalamos Anna Bolena suos ; 
 Cum rex Volssum rerum de cardine movit, 
 
 Fecit et afflicta sorte perire virum ; 
 Cum rex schisma novum deformi crimine fecit, 
 
 Sedis apostolicse debita jura negans ; 
 Cum rex pontificem prsescripsit, j usque papalc, 
 
 Non passus libros nomen habere papx ; 
 Cum rex in sacris voluit caput esse supreraum, 
 
 Assumsitque sibi pontificale decus ; 
 Cum rex lege nova sacratas diruit sedes, 
 
 Solvit et c claustris quos pia vota ligant ; 
 Cum rex divorum spolians opulenta sepulcbra, 
 
 Lusit imaginibus, diva Maria, tuis ; 
 Cum rex damnavit clerum de crimine falso, 
 
 Presbyteros mulctans pontificesque suos ; 
 Cum rex omne malum fecit : tunc, More, necaris : 
 
 Horrebas oculis tanta videre mala. 
 Virtus sic Moro placuit, quod vivere nollct. 
 
 Si non virtuti vivere posse detur. 
 Dum pietas floret, floret quoque Morus ; at ilia 
 
 Quam primum coepit spreta jacere, jacet. 
 Rex plus in sumniis bunc pro pictate locavit, 
 
 Impius afflictum pro pietate necat. 
 Moro vita fides. Nam dum manet ilia, manebat, 
 
 Stante fide stabat : qua percunte perit. 
 Vita sibi pietas : pictate cadcute cadebat,
 
 33G APPENDIX. 
 
 Quam pius est Morus pro pietate codens 1 
 O rex (lebucras insiijni parcere IMoro, 
 
 llara avis est Moms sic super aslra volans. 
 O rex si niultos homines tua sceptra regebaiit, 
 
 At mnltos Moros non tua sceptra regujit. 
 Millibus e muitis vis Morus ccrtiitiir unus, 
 
 Tarn ductus, prudens, tani bouus atque pius. 
 Quanta labc tuum regnum popuiuniquc notasti, 
 
 Quum ferit insoatcm barbara pla<;a Moruia ^ 
 Quis tibi jjeisuasit tarn clarum tollere fidus, 
 
 Qiix mens, qux ratio, consiliiunquc luit i 
 Qua; tua relligio parili sic jure nccare 
 
 Igne Lulheranos, Catliolicosquc cruce ? 
 Hoc liber ille tuus promiserat ante Lconi ? 
 
 Hoc tituhis, regno quern dedit ille tuo ? 
 Defenilisiie tiiicm veros tolkndo (itleles ? 
 
 Cubtodem legum legibus ipse necas ? 
 Justitianine colis justos feriendo securi ? 
 
 Judiciumne facis judicis ora premens ? 
 Consilium curas, et consiliarius iste, 
 
 Maximiis absque uUo criraine morte perit ? 
 Incidis ncrvos, ut corpus fortius csset ? 
 
 Exlinguis lumen, clarius ut videas ? 
 Ut sit perfectuni, scititlis de corpore membrura ? 
 
 Evulsis oculis cernere f'rontem cupis ? 
 Ecquis arare solct (erram non usus aratro ? 
 
 Aut sulcare fcrura, s<»d sine nave, fVetum ? 
 Et tamen ista facis, dun» Morum funcre toUis, 
 
 Quem nidlus sana tollere mente Telit. 
 Scd frustra aspeias tenebras offunderc Moro. 
 
 Morus ubique volat docia per ora virum. 
 Fortior Henrico Staplelonus : penna securi ; 
 
 Ilia mori fecit ; vivere penna facit
 
 APPENDIX. 'S37 
 
 ALIUD, EJUSDENf. 
 
 Quseiis, Arislidcs cur pulsus ab urbe fugatur ? 
 
 Altera non causa est, quam quia Justus erat. 
 Qusris, cur Socrates truculenta venenii bibebat ? 
 
 Id fiiit in causa, vir fuit illc bonus. 
 Qujcris, cur magnus fuit ille IJueiius cxul ? 
 
 Nempe quod ille bonus, veriloquusqire fuit. 
 Qujeris, cur Morus submittit coUa securi ? 
 
 In promtu ratio est : optimus ille fuit. 
 
 ALIUD, EJUSDEM. 
 
 Quando tuam mortem recolo, celeberrime More, 
 
 Tunc venit in mentem TuUius ille meam. 
 Ille fori lumen, facundo clarus ab ore ; 
 
 Tuque fori lumen, tuque disertus eras. 
 Ille pator patriae, patrum dccus atque senatus ; 
 
 Tuque pater patrise, tuque corona patnim. 
 Dum furit Antonius, fetis occiditur ille ; 
 
 Dum furit Henricus, tu quoque fata subis. 
 Dum cadit ille, sua cum lingua Fulvia ludit ; 
 
 Dum cadis ipse, tua morte Bolenacanit. 
 Dum pcrit ille, caput rostris affigitur illis, 
 
 In quibus liic casus dixerat ante suos ; 
 Dum peris ipse, tui capitis damnaris in aula, 
 
 In qua pro regno dicere jura soles. 
 In muUis ambo similes, p,;r laus manet ambos ; 
 
 Dispar at in muitis gloria, dispar honor. 
 Dicitur ut Cicero Roraanos vincerc scripto, 
 
 Moras sic Angios puriloquente stjlo. 
 Plurima scribebat Cicero, sic plurima Morus, 
 
 Plura tamea Mori quam Ciceronis erunt. 
 
 Vol. I. X X
 
 S38 APPExXDIX. 
 
 In niultis vicit Ciceronem Morus : in ipso 
 
 Vicit subjecto malcriaque libri. 
 Vicit iQ ingenio : quis par in acurainc Moro ? 
 
 Vicit iloctrina, jiidicioque gravi. 
 Vicit honorc loci ; nam cancellarius istc 
 
 Uiio anni uniiis consule major erat. 
 Vicit in ardenti verae pietatis amorc : 
 
 Vicit et in mortis nobilitate suae. 
 Morus erat vates festivo carmine ludens, 
 
 Insigniquc potens arte poeta fuif. 
 Morus erat jurisprudens, vL\ major in orbe : 
 
 Piiilosophus summus, si quis in orbe fuif. 
 Morus erat custos Icgum, princepsque scuatus, 
 
 Supremus judex, consiliique caput. 
 Nee latuit Morum divini pagina verbi, 
 
 Sic ferit haerelicos : sic legit ille fidem. 
 Morus erat speculum vitse, fideiquc patronus, 
 
 Insignis : martyr dciiique Morus erat. 
 Tindallus, Trithns, Barnosius atque Lutherus 
 
 A Mori calamo vulnera magna ferunt. 
 Non sat liabct scriptis tales coiifundcre pestes, 
 
 Sed pia confirmant sanguine scripta suo. 
 Plura quid hie dicara ? vix haec bene singula dixi, 
 
 Vincor ab ingenio, More diserte, tuo. 
 Londinense decus, decus Oxoniense luisti : 
 
 Urbs fuit ilia parens, ista niagistra fuit. 
 Tu decus Angligenfim, rcgalis tu decus aulas, 
 
 Tu decus Europse, tu decus orbis eras. 
 Tu monstrum ingcnii : miracula sunt tua dicta, 
 
 Delicise juvenuni, dclicixque senum : 
 Obruor ingeiili ni;igiMriini poiiclere rerum : 
 
 Laus Mori nostro carmine major erit. 
 Qui nunor est Moro, non novit pingere Morum : 
 
 IJoc si quis pot^iit, tu Staplctone, facii.
 
 APPENDIX. 339 
 
 T. STAPLETONI EPIGRAMMA AD EFFIGIEM MORI- 
 
 Talis erat Morus quum causas dixit in urbe : 
 
 Talis quutn populi jura tuetur, erat. 
 Talis erat pleno quum fecit verba s.-natu, 
 Orator populi lingua decusqu<> sai. 
 Talis erat ludens epigraramata, sei ia scribens, 
 
 Talis quum doctam scriberel Utopiam. 
 Talis in liaereticos quum docta volumina format, 
 
 Dum sacra defendit dogmata, talis erat. 
 Talis erat Gallis et Belgis foedera pangens, 
 
 Legati fungcns munere talis erat. 
 Talis erat torquatus eques, prudensque senator, 
 
 Pertracfans regni scrinia, talis erat. 
 Talis erat tibi quum factus Lancaslria judex 
 
 Ducatus tenuit jura suprema tui. 
 Quum cancellarius Britannica sceptra tencret, 
 
 Primo post rcgera munere, talis erat. 
 Talis erat Morus, quum tctro carcere clausus 
 
 Dogmate pro sacro vincula longa tulit. 
 Talis erat dirx submittens coUa sccuri. 
 
 At nunc non talem regna beata vident. 
 
 N. GRUDII EPIGRAMMA. 
 
 MORUS LOQUITUR. 
 
 iSe lugetc meo confusae funere natae ; 
 
 Ipse ego mutari non mea fata velim. 
 Truncum terra tcget, si rex non abnuat urnam ; 
 
 Et mea jam tcrris noraina nota volant. 
 Libera mens supcros repetet, ncque serviet unquam, 
 
 In partem hanc quod agat nulla securis habet. 
 
 X x2
 
 340 APPENDIX. 
 
 Tu quoquc sjiectalor, tranquillum si cupis xvum 
 
 Exigere, ct lelho fur(ior esse tuo, 
 Qui tibi membm cadant nullo in discrimine pone ; 
 
 Quum sint natural lege caduca sux. 
 
 J. PALUDANI RHETORIS LOVANIENSIS IN INSULA M UTO- 
 PIANAM EPIGRAMMA. 
 
 Fortes Roma dedit, dedit ct iaudata discrtos 
 
 Gnecia, frugales inclyta Sparta dedit : 
 Massilla integros dedit, at Gerniania duros. 
 
 Comes ac lepidos Attica terra dedit : 
 Gallia clara pios, quondam dedit Africa cautos, 
 
 IMuniiicos olim terra Britanna dedit : 
 Virtutum ex aliis aliarum exempla petuulur 
 
 Gentibus, et quod huic dcsit Luic superat. 
 Una semel totam summam totius houesti 
 
 Insula tcrrigenis Utopiana dedit. 
 
 GERARD! NOVIOMAGI EPIGRAMMA. 
 
 Dulcia, lector, amas ? sunt iiic dulcissima quseque 
 
 Utile si querisj nil legis utilius. 
 Sive utrumque voles, utroquc hxc insula abundat, 
 
 Quo linguam cxornes, quo doceas aniraum. 
 Hie fontes apcrit, recti pravique disertus 
 
 Morus, Londini gloria prima suse. 
 
 CORN. GRAPHiEUS AD LECTOREM. 
 
 \ is nova monstra, novodudum nunc orbc rcperto?- 
 Vivendi varia vis ralioiie modos ?
 
 APPENDIX. 341 
 
 Vis qui virtntum fontcs ? vis imde malorum 
 
 Principia ? et quantum in rebus inane latct ? 
 Hsec lege, quae vario Morus dcdit ille colore, 
 
 Morus, Fiondinae iiobilitalib honos. 
 
 HEXASTICHON ANEMOLII POETJE LAUREATI, HYTHLOD^I 
 EX SORORE NEPOTIS, IN INSULAM UTOPIANAM. 
 
 Utopia priscis dicta, ob infrequentiam. 
 Nunc civitatis xmula Platonicse, 
 Fortasse victris, (nam quod ilia litteris 
 Delineavit, hoc ego una praestiti 
 Viris et opibus, optimisque legibus) 
 Eutopia merito sum vocanda nomine. 
 
 EJUSDEM TETRASTICHON. 
 
 • 
 Utopus me dux ex non insula fecit insulara, 
 Una ego terrarura omnium absque pbilosophia 
 Civitatcm philosopliicam express! mortalibus. 
 Libenter impcrlio mea, non gravatim accipio raeliora. 
 
 C. GOURADI DISTICHON. 
 
 Morus amoris amor, morura quoquc Morus araator 
 Utopiam scribens tradidit Eufopiam. 
 
 JO. LELANDI MORIADES. 
 
 Desine facundas nimium laudare discrti 
 Natas Ilortcnsi maxima Roma tui,
 
 Cuiidicla trcs cliaiitcs nam iMori cura pcliti 
 
 Obfcurant mullis nomina vc&lra modis. 
 Non illis stiulium Jlilcsia vcllera dcxtra 
 
 Carpcrc, non facili duccrc fila niaiiu : 
 Fed jiiv:U cluquii crcbro monumcnla Lalini 
 
 A'crsarc, ct doclis pingerc vt'rl)a uatis, 
 Ncc miiiiLs aiilliorcs G'rxcos cvolvcrc, Homcrum 
 
 Et quem dicendi gloria prima manet. 
 Ul nee Aristotclis dicam quo pcctore libros 
 
 Scruleiitur, so[)liiie m^'stica dona dex'. 
 Tiirpc viris postbac crit ignorare Mincrvx 
 
 Ar(cs, grcx adco quas niulicbris amct. 
 
 EXD OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 ^lufideU, Doig, and Stevtnton, printtrtt Rd'tuhurgh^
 
 3 1158 00746 7813 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIHRARY 
 
 Los Aiigi'lcs 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date- stampwl Ijelow. 
 
 ^^i 2 1 1970 
 
 ^ MAR 1 5 197) 
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