maintenance of the outward state of the sovereign.
His daughters and he had strengthened one
another in the notion that the public money
ought to be laid out in the purchase of some
public benefit; and that it would not be un-
pardonable in the nation to look even beyond the
Defence of their territory, and ask for an ample
administration of Justice, a liberal provision for
Public Works, and perhaps, in some wiser age,
an extensive apparatus of National Educa-
tion. He was wont to look cheerfully to the
good Providence of God in matters where he could
do nothing ; but he was far from satisfied that
the enormous sums squandered in damaging the
French availed anything for the defence of the
English ; or that those who most needed justice
were the most likely to obtain it, as long as it
must be sought with a present in the hand which
was not likely to be out-bid ; or that the itinerant
justice-mongers of his day were of much advantage
to the people, as long as their profits and their
credit in high quarters depended on the amount
they delivered in as amercements of the guilty.
He was not at all sure that the peasant who had
done his best to satisfy the tax-gatherer was the
more secure against the loss of what remained of
his property, whenever a strong oppressor should
choose to wrest it from him. He could see
nothing done in the way of public works by which
the bulk of the tax-payers might be benefited.
Indeed, public possessions of this kind were

D



26 FIRST AGE.

deteriorating even faster, if possible, than private
property ; and the few rich commoners, here and
there, who dreaded competition in their sales of
produce, might lay aside their fears for the present.
Competition was effectually checked, not only by
the diminution of capital, but by the decay of
roads and bridges which there were no funds to
repair. As for education, the only chance was
that the people might gain somewhat by the
insults Offered to the Church. The unroofed
monks might carry some slight scent of the odour
of learning from the dismantled shrines ; but
otherwise it seemed designed that the people's
acquaintance with polite learning should be con-
fined to two points which were indeed very stre-
nuously taught, — the King's supremacy and the
Cardinal's infallibility.

More was not much given to reverie. While
others were discoursing, his readv wit seldom
failed to interpose to illustrate and vivify what
was said. His low, distinct utterance made
itself heard amidst the laughter or the angry
voices which would have drowned the words of
almost any one else ; and the aptness of his
speech made him as eagerly sought in the royal
circle as sighed for by his own family, when he
was not at hand to direct and enlighten their
studies in their modest book-chamber. He was
much given to thought in his little journeys to
and from town, and in his leisure hours of river-
gazing, and star-exploring ; but he seldom
indulged his meditations in company. Now,
however, while Henry and Wolsey laid their



FIRST AfiE. 27

scheme for swearing every man of the King's
subjects to liis property, and taxing him ac-
cordingly, — not only without the assistance of
Parliament, but while the Commons were
dispersed for seven years, — More was speculating
within himself on the subject of kingly dignity.

" One sort of dignity," thought he, f % consists
with the purposes of him who regards his people
as his servants, and another with the wishes of him
who regards himself as the servant of his people.
As for the monarchs who live in times when the
struggle is which party shall be a slave, God's
mercy be on them and their people ! Their
throne moves, like an idol's car, over the bones
of those who have worshipped or defied their
state ; and they have fiends to act as mummers
in their pageants, and defiled armour for their
masques, and much dolorous howling in the place
of a band of minstrels. In such days the people
pay no tax, because the monarch has only to
stretch forth his hand and take. It is a better
age when the mummers are really merry, and
minstrels make music that gladdens the heart
like wine; and gaudy shows make man's face to
shine like the oil of the Hebrews : but it would
be better if this gladdening of some made no
heart heavy ; and this partial heaviness must
needs be where childish sports take place ; and
the gawds of a court like ours are but baby
sports after all. When my little ones made a
pageant in the meadow, there were ever some
sulking, sooner or later, under the hedge or
within the arbour, while there was unreasonable

d 2



28 FIRST AGE.

mirth among their fellows in the open sunshine, —
however all might be of one accord in the study
and at the board. And so is it ever with those
who follow childish plays, be they august kings,
or be they silly infants. But it is no April grief
that clouds the faces of the people while their
King is playing the master in order afterwards
to enact the bufloon. They have spent more
upon him than the handful of meadow-flowers
that children fling into the lap to help the show ;
and they would do worse in their moods than
pull these gay flowers to pieces, after the manner
of a freakish babe. Remembering that it is the
wont of honest masters to pay their servants,
they are ill content to pay the very roofs from off
their houses, and the seed from out of their
furrows, to be lorded over, and for the greatest
favour, laid at the gate to see Dives pass in and
out in his purple and fine linen. It is ill sport
for Dives to whistle up his dogs to lick the poor
man's sores when so black a gulf is opening
yonder to swallow up his pomp. May be, his
brethren that shall come after him shall be wiser;
as all are apt to become as time rolls on. The
matin hour decks itself G-onjeou-dv with Ions'
bright trains, and flaunts before men's winking
eyes, as if all this grandeur were not made of
tears caught up for a little space into a bright
region, but in their very nature made to dissolve
and fall in gloom. But then there is an end of
the folly, and out of the gloom step forth other
hours, growing clearer, and more apt to man's
steady uses ; so that when noon is come, there



FIUST AGE. 29

is no more pranking and shifting of purple and
crimson clouds, but the sun is content to light
men perfectly to their business, without being
worshipped as he was when gayer but less
glorious. Perhaps a true sun-like king may
come some day, when men have grown eagle-
eyed to hail such an one ; and he will not be for
calling people from their business to be dazzled
with him ; nor for sucking up all that the earth
will yield, so that there may be drought around
and gloom overhead. Rather will he call out
bubbling springs from the warm hill-side, and cast
a glister over every useful stream, to draw men's
eyes to it ; and would rather thirst himself than
that they should. Such an one will be content
to leave" it to God's hand to fill him with glory,
and would rather kiss the sweat from off the poor
man's brow, than that the labourer should waste
the precious time in falling on his knees to him
to mock him with idolatry. Though he be high
enough above the husbandman's head, he is not
the lord of the husbandman, but in some sort his
servant ; though it be a service of more glory
than any domination. — If he should chance vainly
to forget that there sitteth One above the firma-
ment, he may find that the same Maker who
once staved the sun for the sake of one oppressed
people may, at the prayer of another, wheel the
golden throne hurriedly from its place, and call
out constellations of lesser lights, under whose
rule men may go to and fro, and refresh themselves
in peace. The state of a king that domineers is
one thing; and the dignity of a king that serves

d 3



30 FIRST AGE.

and blesses is another ; and this last is so noble,
that if any shall arise who shall not be content
with the office's simplicity, but must needs deck it
with trappings and beguile it with toys, let him
be assured that he is as much less than man as
he is more than ape ; and it were wiser in him to
rummage out a big nut to crack, and set himself
to switch his own tail, than seek to handle the
orb and stretch out the sceptre of kings."

It was a day of disappointments to Henry.
Not only were his Commons anything but
benevolently disposed towards furnishing the
benevolence required, but the young nun would
not come to be married to the friar. The
gallants who had been sent for her now appeared
before the King with fear and trembling, bearing
sad tidings of the sturdiness of female self-will.
They had traced the maiden to the house of her
father, one Richard Read, and had endeavoured
to force her away with them, notwithstanding her
own resistance, and her mother's and sister's
prayers and tears. In the midst of the dispute,
her father had returned from Blackfriars, sur-
rounded by the friends who had joined him in
declining the tribute which they were really
unable to pay. Heated by the insolent words
which had been thrown at them by the Cardinal,
and now exasperated by the treatment his
daughter had met with, Read had dropped a few
words, — wonderfully fierce to be uttered in the
presence of courtiers in those days, — which were
now repeated in the form of a message to the
King : — Read had given his daughter to be the



FIRST AGE. 31

spouse of Christ, and had dowered her ac-
cordingly ; and it did not now suit his paternal
ambition that she should be made the spouse of
a houseless friar for the bribe of a dowry from
the King ; this dowry being actually taken from
her father under the name of a benevolence to
aid the King's necessities. He would neither
sell his daughter nor buy the King's favour.

Henry was of course enraged, and ordered the
arrest of the entire household of Richard Read ;
a proceeding which the Cardinal and the Speaker
agreed in disliking as impolitic in the present
crisis. Wolsey represented to the King that there
could be no failure of the subsidy if every re-
cusant were reasoned with apart, instead of being
placed in a position where his malicious frowarci-
ness would pervert all the rest of the waverers.
If good words and amiable behaviour did not
avail to induce men to contribute, the obstinate
might be brought before the privy council ; or,
better still, be favoured with a taste of military
service. Henry seized upon the suggestion,
knowing that such service as that of the Border
war was not the pleasantest occupation in the
world for a London alderman, at the very time
when his impoverished and helpless family espe-
cially needed his protection. He lost sight, for
the time, as Wolsey intended that he should, of
the daughter, while planning fresh tyranny towards
her father. The church would be spared the
scandal of such a jesting marriage as had been
proposed, if, as the Cardinal hoped, the damsel
should so withdraw herself as not to be found in



32 FIRST AGE.

the morning. The religious More had aspirations
to the same effect. *

" It is a turning of nature from its course,"
said he, " to make night-birds of these tender
young swallows; but they are answerable who
seared them from beneath their broad eaves when
they were nestled and looked for no storm. Pray
the Lord of Hosts that he may open a corner in
some one of his altars for this ruffled fledge-
ling!"

Little did the gentle daughters of More suspect
ior what message they were summoned to pro-
duce writing materials, and desired to command
the attendance of a king's messenger. Their
father was not required to be aiding and abetting
in this exercise of royal tyranny. Perceiving
that his presence was not wished for, he stepped
into his orchard, to refresh himself with specula-
tions on his harvest of pippins, and to hear what
his family had to say on his position with respect
to the mighty personages within.

" I marvel," said his wife to him, " that you
should be so wedded to your own small fancies as
to do more things that may mislike his Grace
than prove your own honest breeding. What
with your undue haste to stretch your limbs in
your bedesman's apparel, and your simple de-
sire to mere fruit and well-water, his Highness
may right easily content himself that his bounty
can add nothing to your state."

u And so shall he best content me, dame.
Worldly honour is the thing of which I have re-
signed the desire ; and as for worldly profit, I



FIRST AGE. 33

trust experience proveth, and shall daily prove,
that I never was very greedy therein."

Mr. Roper saw no reason for the lady's re-
buke or apprehensions. "When did the King's
Highness ever more lovingly pass his arm round
any subject's neck than this day, when he caressed
the honourable Speaker of his faithful Com-
mons ?

" There is full narrow space, Mr. Roper, be-
tween my shoulders and my head to serve as a
long resting-place for a king's caress. Trust me,
if he had been a Samson, and if it had suited the
pleasure of his Grace, he would at that moment
liave plucked my head from my shoulders before
you'all. It may be well for plain men that a
king's finder and thumb are not stronger than
those of any other man."

Henry and his poor councillor now appeared
from beneath the porch, the one not the less gay,
the other not the less complacent, for their having
together made provision for the utter ruin of a
family whose only fault was their poverty. A
letter had been written to the general command-
ing on the Scotch border, to desire that Richard
Read, now sent down to serve as a soldier at his
own charge, should be made as miserable as pos-
sible, should be sent out on the most perilous
duty in the field, and subjected to the most severe
privations in garrison, and used in all things
according to the sharp military discipline of the
northern wars, in retribution for his refusing to
pay money which he did not possess. The snare
being thus fixed, the train of events laid by which



FIRST AGE.

t^.c unhappy wife and daughters were to be com-
pelled first to surrender their only guardian, then
to give their all lor his ransom from the enemy,
and, lastly, to mourn him slain in the field, — tins
hellish work being carefully set on r foot, the
devisers thereof came forth boldly into God's day-
light, to amuse themselves with innocence and
flatter the ear of beauty till the sun went down,
and then to mock the oppressed citizens of Lon-
don with the tumult of their pomp and revelry.
Perhaps some who turned from the false glare to
look up into the pure sky might ask why the
heavens were clear, — -where slept the thunder-
bolt ?



( 33)



SECOND AGE.

It was not Sunday morning - , yet the bells of
every steeple in London had been tolling since
sunrise ; the shops were all shut ; and there was
such an entire absence of singers and jugglers,
of dancing bears and frolicking monkeys in the
streets, that it might seem as if the late Protector
had risen from his grave, and stalked abroad to
frown over the kingdom once more. Nothing
this morning betokened the reign of a merry
monarch. No savour of meats issued from any
house ; no echo of music was heard ; the streets
were as yet empty, the hour of meeting for wor-
ship not having arrived, and there being no other
cause for coming abroad. There was more than
a sabbath purity in the summer sky, unstained by
smoke as it could never be but on the day of a
general fast in summer. The few boats on the
river which brought worshippers from a distance
to observe the solemn ordinance in the city,
glided along without noise or display. There was
no exhibition of flags ; no shouting to rival barks;
no matching against time. The shipping itself
seemed to have a mournful and penitential air,
crowded together in silence and stillness. The
present had been an untoward season, as regarded
the nation's prosperity, in many respects ; and
when the court and the people were heartily tired



36 SECOND Af.F.

of the festivities which had followed the King's
marriage, thev bethought themselves of taking
the advice of many of their divines, and depre-
cating the wrath of Heaven in a solemn day of
entreatv for rain, and for vengeance on their
enemies.

The deepest gloom was not where, perhaps, it
would have been looked for by the light-minded
who regarded such observances as very whole-
some for the common people,, but extremely tire-
some for themselves. Dr. Reede, a young Pres-
byterian clergyman, the beloved pastor of a large
congregation in London, came forth from his
study an hour before the time of service, with a
countenance anything but gloomy, though its
mild seriousness befitted the occasion. Having
fully prepared himself for the pulpit, he sought
his wife. He found her with her two little chil-
dren, the elder of whom was standing at a chair,
turning over the gilt leaves of a new book ; while
the younger, a tender infant, nestled on its
mother's bosom as she walked, in a rather hur-
ried manner, from end to end of the apartment.

" What hath fallen out, Esther? Is the babe
ill-disposed?" asked the husband, stooping to
look into the tiny face that peeped over Esther's
shoulder.

" The child is well, my love ; and the greater
is my sin in being disturbed. I will be so no
more," she continued, returning to the seat where
the child was playing with the book ; " I will fret
myself no more on account of evildoers, as the
word of God gives commandment."



SECOND AGE.



37



11 Is it this which hatli troubled you?'' asked
her husband, taking up the volume, — the new
Book of Common Prayer, — of which every
clergyman must shortly swear that he believed
the whole, or lose his living. " We knew,
Esther, what must be in this book. We knew
that it must contain that which would make it to
us as the false gospel of the infidels; and, thus
knowing, there is no danger in the book."

And he took it up, and turned over its pages,
presently observing, with a smile, —

" Truly, it is a small instrument wherewith to
be turned" out of so large a living. I could lay
my finger over the parts which make a gulf be-
tween my church and me which I may not pass.
The leaven is but little ; but since there it must
lie, it leavens the whole lump."

" Do you think V inquired Esther, hesitat-
ingly ; " is it supposed that many will that

your brethren regard the matter as you do ?"

" It will be seen in God's own time how many
make a conscience of the oaths they take in his
presence. For me it is enough that I believe not
all that is in this book. If it had been a question
whether the King would or would not compel the
oath, I could have humbled myself under his feet
to beseech him to spare the consciences which no
King can bind ; but as it is now too late for this,
we must cheerfully descend to a low estate among
men, that we may look up before God."

" Without doubt ; I mean nought else ; but
when, and where shall we go V*

" In a few davs, unless it should please God to
25 e



33 SECOND AGE.

touch the hearts that lie hath hardened, — in a few
days we must gird ourselves to go forth."
" With these little ones ! And where ?"
" Where there may be some unseen to hid us
God speed ! Whether the path shall open to the
right hand or to the left, what matters it ?"

"True: it" a path be indeed opened. But
these little ones "



" God hath sent food into the heart of wilder-
nesses whence there was no path; and the Scrip-
ture hath a word of the young ravens which
cry."

*' It hath. I will never again, by God's grace,
look back to the estate which my father lost for
this very King. But, without reckoning up that
score with him, it moves the irreligious them-
selves to see how he guides himself in these
awful times, — toying in his palace-walks this
very morning, while he himself puts sackcloth on
the whole nation. Edmund is just come in from
seeing the King standing on the green walk in
the palace-garden, and jesting with the Jezebel
who ever contrives to be at that high, back win-
dow as he passes by. I would the people knew
of it, that they might avoid the scandal of inter-
ceding for a jester whom they suppose to be wor-
shipping with them, while he is thinking of no-
thing so little all the time as worshipping any
but his own wantons."

" If Edmund can thus testify, it is time that
I were enlarging my prayer for the King. If for
the godly we intercede seven times, should it not
for the ungodly be seventy-times seven ?"



SECOND AGE.



39



Mrs. Reede's brother Edmund could confirm
the account. In virtue of an office which he
held, he had liberty to pass through the palace-
garden. The sound of mirth, contrasting strangely
with the distant toll of bells, had drawn him into
the shade; and he had seen Charles throwing
pebbles up to a window above, where a lady was
leaning out, and pelting him with sweetmeats in
return. It was hoped that the queen, newly mar-
ried, and a stranger in the country, was in some
far-distant corner of the palace, and that she did
not yet understand the tongue in which Charles's
excesses were wont to be openly spoken of. The
Corporations of London had not yet done feast-
ing and congratulating this most unhappy lady ;
but all supposed matter of congratulation was
already over. The clergy of the kingdom prayed
for her as much from compassion as duty ; and
her fate served them as an unspoken text for their
discourses on the vanity of worldly greatness. The
mothers of England dropped tears at the thought
of the lonely and insulted stranger ; and their
daughters sighed their pity for the neglected
bride.

Edmund now came into the room, and his ap-
pearance cost Dr. Reede more sighs than his own
impending anxieties. Though Edmund held a
place of honour and trust at the Admiralty, he
had been in possession of it too short a time to
justify such a display as he had of late appeared
disposed to make. On this day of solemn fast,
he seemed to have no thought of sackcloth, but
showed himself in a summer black bombazin

e 2



40 SECOND AGE.

suit, trimmed very nobly with scarlet ribbon ; a
camlet cloak, lined with scarlet ; a prodigious
periwig, and a new beaver.

" What news do you bring from the navy-
yards V* inquired Dr. Reede. " Is there hope of
the ill spirit being allayed, and the defence of the
country cared for V

" In truth, but little," replied Edmund, «* un-
less it become the custom to pay people their dues.
What with the quickness of the enemy, and the
slowness .of the people to work without their
wages, and the chief men running after the shows
and pastimes of the court, and others keeping
their hands by their sides through want of the
most necessary materials, and the waste that
comes of wanton idleness, — it is said by certain
wise persons that it will be no wonder if our
enemies come to our very shores to defy us, and
burn our shipping in our own river."

" How is it that you obtain your dues, Ed-
mund ? This neat suit would be hardly paid for
out of your private fortune."

" It is time for me to go like myself," said
Edmund, conceitedly, " liable as I am to stand
before the King or the Duke. I might complain,
like the rest, that but little money is to be seen ;
but, with such as I have, I must do honour to
the King's Majesty, whom I am like to see to-
day."

Mrs. Reedehad so strong an apprehension that
Edmund would soon be compelled, like others, to
forego his salary, that she saw little that was safe
and honourable in spending his money on dress



8EC0ND AGE. 41

as fast as it came in. But that the servants of
government were infected with the vanities of
the government, they would prepare for the evil
davs which were evidently coming on, instead of
letting their luxury and their poverty grow to-
gether.

" So is it ever, whether the vices of govern-
ment be austere or pleasant," observed Dr.Reede.
" The people must needs look and speak sourly
when Oliver grew grave ; and now, they have
suddenly turned, as it were, into a vast troop of
masqueraders, because the court is merry. But
there is a dilVerence in the two examples which it
behoves discerning men to perceive. In respect
of religious gravity, all men stand on the same
ground ; it is a matter between themselves and
their God. But the government has another re-
sponsibility, in regard to its extravagance : it is
answerable to men ; for government does not
earn the wealth it spends ; and each act of waste
is an injury to those who have furnished the
means, and an insult to every man who toils hard