More had wooed her for a friend, never thinking of her for himself. But gradually the friend having passed aside, he made the suit his own, placed her among the penates of his hearth, and taught her music, to render her less worldly.

For himself, he also desired little to concern himself with the general trapsactions of the world. No man ever sought with more assiduity to gain entrance to the court, than he to keep out of it; but he was already too conspicuous to be spared from the administration of public affairs. Wolsey, mounting by sudden degrees towards the greatness he afterwards achieved, was desired by the King to engage the services of More; but the legal robe still fitted him better than a courtier's taffety cloak, and he eluded the offered honour. Nevertheless in 1516 we find him associating with Cuthbert Tonstall, in the Embassy to Flanders, where envoys from Charles of Castille, met them to fence with pensful of protests, protocols and ultimata, though differently named in the diplomatic language of the day. Six months were thus consumed, with a successful result, and More was thoroughly satiated with ambassadorial honours. Such duties, he said, writing to an ecclesiastic, suit me less than they suit you, who have no wives at home, or else find them wherever you go. Yet he passed some agreeable hours with the learned men of Antwerp, and at his return, was offered a pension by the king. This he declined, as well as other distinctions which the Court was desirous of conferring on him. At length an incident occurred which carried him beyond his own control, to the public eminence he appeared to shun. A richly freighted ship belonging to the Pope put in at Southampton. In accordance with the maritime laws of that age, Henry VIII. claimed it as a prize. The Roman Legate required that the case should be argued before the constituted tribunals of the realm. A hearing was appointed before the Chancellor and the Judges in the Star Chamber. Who should plead for the Pontifical right? There was no lawyer equal to More, and he could not refuse the service of God's vicar and the head of his religion. Therefore, when the great question was tried, he rose, and with such eloquence and learning, pleaded the cause of the Vatican, that not only was the Pope's ship restored,

but the king delighted with the powers of his antagonist, so far that he refused any longer to forego the advantage of such a man's aid in the administration. No high office was then vacant, but More was appointed Master of the Bequests, and a month after knighted and sworn a Privy Councillor, whence with a rapid transition, he rose to the post of Treasurer to the Exchequer. In this dignity he felt as he tells us, somewhat uneasy as they feel on horseback who have never before been in a saddle. Yet the prince was so affable that all courtiers flattered themselves with a confidence in his especial favour, "just as our London matrons persuade themselves that our Lady's image smileth upon them as they pray before it." Nor was he the only virtuous man deceived by the early hypocrisy of this Eighth Henry, for Erasmus joined in offering to the court the fragrance of an honourable fame,

Great was the change that had now come over the complexion of More's life. He was no longer an advocate, but an officer of state; no longer a private gentleman, but an ornament of the court; though still preserving that simple integrity of heart and plain frugality of life, which enabled him, amid palace follies, to feast with content on pure philosophy, sometimes holding a nocturnal vigil with the king, and conversing long hours with him, on the movements and dis tribution of the stars.

So agreeable to the monarch and his consort was the society of this witty and accomplished man, that they continually sent for him "to make merry with them." The knight had made it a rule to chat with his wife, and prattle with his children some part of every day; but his conversation became so entertaining to the king and queen, that he could not once in a month obtain permission to spend an evening with his family. In order to relieve himself from this surfeit of court favour, he sacrificed all vanity, and wilfully made himself less attractive than before, so that gradually his time became more his own. There were, however, other cares to occupy his heart. deep murmurs of the reformation boded a storm in Europe; Leo was corrupting the church by every flagrant device of sacerdotal greed; Erasmus had aroused the monastic orders; and Luther was refuting the spurious doctrines intro

The first

duced to prop up a dissolute and decay- mission to Spain; but the King intering hierarchy. More from his philoso- posed, and the design was 'prevented. phical watch-tower saw over the horizon Henry had discernment enough to reglimmering, the mighty religious re-cognise a mind that could serve him, volution, about to emerge from the cha- for though styled Defender of the Faith, otic anarchy of superstition and slavery for his persecution of the Lutheran then overwhelming the Christian world. doctrine, he needed a greater intellectual There was a dawn of light on the high ally to cope with the profound and fiery ranges, it was descending into vallies, eloquence of the Wittemberg professor. and promised soon to spread over the plains; controversy became hot, and More was not yet foremost in the rising war. However, with a temperate and candid tone he defended his friends, and vindicated himself when attacked by the planetary Ishmaelites, wandering between two horizons and falling into collision with every body, whether luminous or not that happened to intercept them on their way.

For such divinity doth hedge a king,

That wonderful man, had roused up from a lethargy of centuries the degraded mind of Europe, had declaimed with propheticrancour against the English prince, had told him he was a liar and a blasphemer, and was now retorted upon by More in terms of similar vituperation. Attached by faith and predilection to the Church of Rome, he voluminously answered the continual attacks now made upon it, whether in heavy tomes, The rhetorical graces of his language or flying broad-sheets, packed with close and the resources of his learning, gave columns of pedantic erudition. For all him superiority over these impetuous these services to the shattered fabric of but shallow opponents. In all assem- Papal authority, the knight was made blies of men he was eminent, and espe- Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, cially in the House of Commons, which and so great was his favour with the elected him Speaker in 1523. Shrinking king, that as an oriental would phrase it, at first from that position, he no sooner the sun of majesty condescended sometook his station on it, than he rose to times to illuminate the house and vindicate Parliament against the inso- garden of his friend at Chelsea. Nor, lence and arbitrary conduct of Henry in the estimation of those also who VIII. With the periphrasis of a cour-ejaculate, tier, he folded round sentiments and maxims, not common then in a servile and venal senate. The king interfered could mortal man receive more splen through Wolsey, with every proceeding did honour than More, when of the House. More resolved to check Eighth Henry of England came to dinthis. When, therefore, a subsidy was ner uninvited, and then walked about proposed, and the Cardinal, fearing op- the garden for an hour with one arm position, came down to awe and hum- wound round the Lancastrian Chanble the refractory members, all heard cellor's neck! Never, except once to his speech in silence, and none could Wolsey, had such familiar graciosity reply to it. Wolsey addressed several been shown. But he knew his master's in particular. They made no reply. character; he knew him to be an incarHe demanded an answer from the nate perjury all his life, and even then speaker, and More with mock humility he confessed that there was little to be told him they could not dare discuss in proud of in these distinctions, for if his such an awful presence, nor was it, he head could win Henry a castle in France, boldly added, consistent with their an- he would at once have hewn it off on cient and just liberties to deliberate the block. under restraint. The Cardinal in anger rose and withdrew, when More at once supported the subsidy. Shortly afterwards, being in Wolsey's gallery, at Whitehall, the Cardinal said to him, "Would to God you had been at Rome, Sir More, when I made you speaker." "So would I, too," he replied. The powerful priest was sincere, for it was not long before he tried to get rid of his knightly friend, by sending him on a

the

The secret of his favour was his ability to serve in the councils of the realm; his skill in diplomacy; and, perhaps, the check he interposed between Cardinal Wolsey's ambition and the weakness of the king. For, the son of the Ipswich butcher was now master-spirit in this kingdom. In the Parliament and in the closet, none but More dared to oppose him; he once called him a fool for showing some flaws in a treaty

call for justice, were it my father stood on one side and the devil on the other, his cause being good, the devil should have right."

he had drawn up, and was wittily re- and literally his own honest boast was plied to by Sir Thomas. Indeed, as the true. He said, that before a cause came one rose, the other descended along the on, he would with friendship endeavour slope of royal favour, accelerated by his to compose the disputed affair; "But I conduct in reference to the queen's assure thee, on my faith," he added, divorce; until at length the Great Seal" that if the parties will at my hands was demanded of Wolsey and given to More. By his own acknowledgment, no man in England was more worthy. Henry, however, incapable of recognising high virtue, or of rewarding it when it was disclosed to him, flattered himself with the hope that the Chancellor might be bribed by the precarious splendours of his position, to aid in his licentious purposes and his unnatural intrigues. But the new bearer of the seal remembered too much of his own character, and the brilliant and long prosperous virtue of those who in other times had filled that chair-the authority of genius, of wisdom, of probity and patriotism that had surrounded it with a glory superior to that of the Crown. Stainless in the integrity of his mind, he ascended to this honour in 1530, and resolving to continue incorruptible, his prescient judgment knew that it would not long be reconcilable with his conscience, or his inclination to wear the robes of the office.

Wolsey, as Chancellor, had made his post at once a fortress and a temple. It was girt with a double belt of prescriptive dignities, to overawe and guard the subjected people, defended by superstition, defended by power, and impenetrable through the broad gates that appeared to invite approach. These were merely the adornment of the station. None passed through them to the presence of the haughty Cardinal. There was no access to him except through the postern-door of bribery; but when More succeeded, his affable familiarity listened to every suitor, and in an open hall gave opportunity to every one who had a cause to plead it. While he sat as Chancellor, his father, though nearly ninety years of age, presided as a Judge in the King's Bench. When he passed through Westminster Hall to his place in the Chancery Court, More, always in a pious spirit, and in accordance with the manners of the time, knelt down before him to ask a blessing; nor would he ever, in the old man's presence, take the precedence which his rank conferred, without first offering it to him. In the administration of the law, corruption never stained his hand,

This principle he illustrated many times when relatives and friends presumed to recline on his favours. Equity was not held as a philosophical rule in those regretted days; but More had prepared and disciplined himself for a war with ancient corruption and inveterate abuse. All society took a tincture from the complexion of the Court, and a public malady, deep and complicated, diseased not only the practice, but the very essence of the law. The Chancellor opposed himself to this circulating stream of evil influences; and by the exercise of an abstinent and immoveable virtue, checked its progress, though obloquy, in consequence, attached to his name. He conciliated no enemies, and he obliged few friends, because neither could be done while he held in view pure justice as the Pharos of his life. A whimsical instance of this impartiality is recorded. One day, a beggar came to complain that Lady More detained a little dog which belonged to her. The Chancellor sent for his wife with the dog, and placing the lady at one end of the hall, and his poor petitioner at the other, desired both to call the animal by its name. They did so, and without hesitation it ran to the mendicant. "I sit here to do everyone justice," he said, and compelled Lady More to pay a proper price for her favourite. Sometimes, too, he lightened the cares of his office by a little pleasantry; as when an attorney, named Tub, brought him a frivolous cause, which he endorsed A Tale of a Tub,' and sent away folded, so that the joke was undiscovered till the trial came on.

66

Remembering the Serbonian bog of immemorial suits now choking up the Court of Chancery, history can scarcely expect credence for the fact, that Sir Thomas cleared the glutted cloaca of his day; and, one afternoon, calling for the next cause, was told that no more remained! That was a palmy season for litigants of all degrees-a golden age of equity; for not only did the Chancellor

exalt himself far above such sources of corruption as those by which Bacon pilloried his name to infamy, but he rejected even gifts and oblations laid before him by those who never came for his decision in a court of law. The bishops offered him five thousand pounds as a present. He declined it. They begged that his wife and children would accept the money. He refused. He would serve the Church by writing against heresies, but for such service he would not be paid. Therefore, he would not touch a coin from their hands; though this did not spare him from the calumnies of men, who circulated a rumour that he had been bribed-a slander dishonourable to them, as it long proved injurious to him.

Margaret, as a minister of charity, to see that their wants were supplied. For, in the character of this great and good man, a love of humankind forms a particular grace. He was benevolent to all, and rancorously persecuted none. The purest integrity was accompained by the gentlest manners, the most elegant genius, and a familiar acquaintance with the noble spirit of antiquity with a hearth-warm friendliness, that endeared him to all and those not few-who came within the influence of his manners. The fantastic libellers to whom I have alluded, would paint him as an amateur inquisitor, a type of that Cardinal Caraffa, who fitted up his private room with racks and pulleys that he might with the connoisseurship of cruelty, delectify his soul with the tortures of poor wretches, whom his bigotry had, by anticipation, damned. They tell us that More bound heretics to a tree in his garden, and beat them until their agony confessed an uncommitted crime. Robbers, murderers, and perpetrators of sacrilege, he did arrest and cast into prison, but that he persecuted the reformers, is an untruth which our Protestant writers can afford to repudiate. There is enough ferocity proved against the satellites of the Romish Church without imputing to good men the nefarious guilt of the Holy Officer. The charges against More had their origin in two circumstances. He caused a child to be whipped before his household for improper expressions concernTilly-ing the sacrament, and he had a vagavalli," retorted the one-time widow, bond fanatic flogged for insulting wo"And what will you do, Mr. More? men, under a pretence of religious Will you sit and make goslings in the zeal. From these incidents have sprung ashes? It is better to rule than to be aspersions on his character, which, magruled." Probably she little liked the nified by the ignorance or malignity of prospect of poverty now opening before pamphleteers, have at length resumed her; for, when all the late Chancellor's the shape of a laborious and consistent debts were paid, he was not worth more calumny. More resigned all that his than a hundred pounds, with an annual pride could aspire to-the most exalted income of about the same amount. He office in the realm, the adulations of was careless of his own fortune, but reli- thousands, the sweet possession of power, giously provided for the interests of the pomp and consequence of authose who had zealously served him thority, to spare one reproach from while he held the Seal. By his father's his conscience, and with a liberal phideath he inherited a very trivial pro-losophy he respected the conscience of perty.

Henry himself could not bend him to his will. The divorce conflict still raged between the Court of England and the College at Rome. More was solicited to favour the King's marriage with Anne Boleyn; but, instead of yielding, he begged permission to resign his office, which, after much importunity, was granted, and, in 1532, Sir Thomas gave up the Great Seal. The necessity of this descent from power seemed not to affect him at all; but his wife Alice, with less philosophy, scolded him bitterly for his resignation. The facetious knight, with more humour than taste, called his daughters, and asked them if they perceived nothing wrong in their mother's appearance. They said "No." "How," he cried, "do you not see that her nose is somewhat awry?"

More lived, as we have noticed, in Chelsea. Four houses are pointed out as his. Beaufort House seems to have the best pretension, and near it he hired another as an asylum for aged persons, to whom he sent his daughter,

others.

From the day of his resigning, the Chancellor More went swiftly down that decline which carried him at last to the scaffold. There was in his mind a foreboding of this fate, for he spoke of it often; and when the new queen was

about to be crowned, uttered an excla- inveterate malice, searching for causes mation which showed that he was endeavouring to meet, with religious resignation, the tempest then darkening round his head. Three bishops begged him first to accept £20 to buy a gown, and second to take part in the coronation ceremony. He took the money, and naïvely told them, that as he had complied with one of their requests, he was the bolder in refusing the other. The language he was reported to use on this subject incensed the king, and probably led him early to meditate that crime which blackened as much as any, the infamy of his reign. From this period, the fallen Chancellor was watched with assiduous malignity, in order that some shadow of reason might be discovered plausibly to cover the revenge of the throne. The ornament of his own age, and the moral teacher of every other, was a proper victim for a tyranny which he would not instigate to injustice, and a proper sacrifice for a people which he would not provoke to insurrection. Gratitude for benefits in years past remitted nothing of the rigour that now pursued a virtuous offence; but if More erred in ascribing to the King a magnanimity which was as foreign to him as honour was to the first, or decency to the second Charles, he may be pardoned the mistake, since Henry, though a flagitious husband, was not yet the Carnifex of his wives. He had already, indeed, succeeded to the passions of the hangman, after abdicating the pride of the high priest; but Sydney and Milton had not then blazed their imperial philippics before the world; and the charitable knight imputed to good motives the actions of a prince, because he sincerely believed in some authority attaching to a crown.

At that time, however, arose the celebrated enthusiast, Elizabeth Barton, called the "Holy Maid of Kent." More knew her to be an impostor, and treated her as such; but, in her ravings, she pretended to make revelations of public affairs, implicating many in dark and equivocal schemes. Parliament, in 1534, passed bills of attainder, and the woman suffered a barbarous punishment for her offence, while Sir Thomas, among others, was attainted for not disclosing what he had heard. From this, at once he understood the conspiracy that was playing a stake against his life. This charge was a flimsy veil to conceal an

for accusation. The new Chancellor and a conclave of dignitaries interrogated him on his conduct. Back from the Holy Maid of Kent, they soon passed to the question of the King's marriage, and significantly told More that he must publish his consent to a deed already ratified by the approval of the Lords, the Commons, the Bishops, and the Universities of England. First they sought to persuade, and then they endeavoured to terrify him. They denounced him as a villain and a traitor, as one who unpatriotically stood forward for the authority of the Pope. The committee, however, were foiled at all points by his replies; and when the king, enraged, demanded that he should be charged upon the bill, concerning the Holy Maid of Kent, they frankly said, that the Lords would hear him in his own defence, when they could not answer for his condemnation. Henry had not a mind capable of imagining that peers could be honourable as well as other men. He vowed that More should be impeached; he would not yield to a subject; he would attend the House himself; and the noble judges should, by his presence, be overawed in their decision. It was his will that the fallen bearer of his seal should be proved guilty, and the legislature had no more to do than to convict him. Such was divine right in the sixteenth century. Still the committee urged the danger of allowing More to plead before the Lords; his eloquence would carry them away. He would challenge them all by their heraldic names; he would exhibit the true picture of his life, and let them upon their honour say, whether or not he had treacherously acted towards his country. Even the taurine-dullard gained, at length, a glimpse of reason, and consented to prorogue the execution of his assassin's scheme.

Far

Be it remembered, that the councillors who brought him to acquiesce in a suspension of hostility against More, were not inspired by principle an iota less disreputable than his own. from it. They desired to mount their selected victim where their aim would be more sure. They saved him from trial, because they feared he would not be found guilty. And in persuading the king to this point, they ominously spoke of inventing a better means to serve his turn. Nor was his malice saddened by