CHAPTER XII.

I. MORE IMMERSED IN PUBLIC BUSINESS (1515).

[Sidenote: More’s practice at the Bar.]

[Sidenote: His second marriage.]

While the work of Erasmus had for some years past lain chiefly in the

direction of laborious literary study, it had been far otherwise with

More. His lines had fallen among the busy scenes and cares of practical

life. His capacity for public business, and the diligence and impartiality

with which he had now for some years discharged his judicial duties as

under-sheriff, had given him a position of great popularity and influence

in the city. He had been appointed by the Parliament of 1515 a

Commissioner of Sewers--a recognition at least of his practical ability.

In his private practice at the Bar he had risen to such eminence, that

Roper tells us ‘there was at that time in none of the prince’s courts of

the laws of this realm any matter of importance in controversy wherein he

was not with the one party of counsel.’[535] Roper further reports that

‘by his office and his learning (as I have heard him say) he gained

without grief not so little as 400_l._ by the year’ (equal to 4,000_l._ a

year in present money). He had in the meantime married a second wife,

Alice Middleton, and taken her daughter also into his household; and thus

tried, for the sake of his little orphans, to roll away the cloud of

domestic sorrow from his home.

Becoming himself more and more of a public man, he had anxiously watched

the course of political events.

[Sidenote: Social results of the wars.]

[Sidenote: Complaint in Parliament.]

The long continuance of war is almost sure to bring up to the surface

social evils which in happier times smoulder on unobserved. It was

especially so with these wars of Henry VIII. Each successive Parliament,

called for the purpose of supplying the King with the necessary ways and

means, found itself obliged reluctantly to deal with domestic questions of

increasing difficulty. In previous years it had been easy for the

flattering courtiers of a popular king, by talking of victories, to charm

the ear of the Commons so wisely, that subsidies and poll-taxes had been

voted without much, if any, opposition. But the Parliament which had met

in February 1515, had no victories to talk about. Whether right or wrong

in regarding ‘the realm of France his very true patrimony and

inheritance,’ Henry VIII. had not yet been able ‘to reduce the same to his

obedience.’ Meanwhile the long continuance of war expenditure had drained

the national exchequer. It is perfectly true that under Wolsey’s able

management the expenditure had already been cut down to an enormous

extent, but during the three years of active warfare--1512, 1513, and

1514--the revenues of more than twelve ordinary years[536] had been spent,

the immense hoards of wealth inherited by the young king from Henry VII.

had been squandered away, and even the genius of Wolsey was unable to

devise means to collect the taxes which former Parliaments had already

voted. The temper of the Commons was in the meantime beginning to change.

They now, in 1515, for the first time entered their complaint upon the

rolls of Parliament, that whereas the King’s noble progenitors had

maintained their estate and the defences of the realm out of the ordinary

revenues of the kingdom, he now, by reason of the improvident grants made

by him since he came to the throne, had not sufficient revenues left to

meet his increasing expenses. The result was that all unusual grants of

annuities, &c., were declared to be void.[537] The Commons then proceeded

to deal with the large deficiency which previous subsidies had done little

to remove. Of the 160,000_l._ granted by the previous Parliament only

50,000_l._ had been gathered, and all they now attempted to achieve was

the collection, under new arrangements, of the remaining 110,000_l._[538]

[Sidenote: Taxes on labourers’ wages.]

It was evident that the temper of the people would not bear further trial;

and no wonder, for the tax which in the previous year had raised a total

of 50,000_l._ was practically an income-tax of sixpence in the pound,

_descending even to the wages of the farm-labourer_. In the coming year

this income-tax of sixpence was to be _twice_ repeated simply to recover

arrears of taxation. What should we think of a government which should

propose to exact from the day-labourer, by direct taxation, a tax equal to

between two and three weeks’ wages!

The selfishness of Tudor legislation--or, perhaps it might be more just

to say of _Wolsey’s_ legislation, for he was the presiding spirit of this

Parliament--was shown no less clearly in its manner of dealing with the

social evils which came under its notice.

Thus the Act of Apparel, with its pains and penalties, was obviously more

likely to give a handle to unscrupulous ministers to be used for purposes

of revenue, than to curb those tastes for grandeur in attire which nothing

was so likely to foster as the example of Wolsey himself.[539]

[Sidenote: Legal interference with wages.]

Thus, too, not content with carrying their income-tax down to the earnings

of the peasant, this and the previous Parliament attempted to interfere

with the wages of the labouring classes solely for the benefit of

employers of labour. The simple fact was that the drain upon the labour

market to keep the army supplied with soldiers, had caused a temporary

scarcity of labour, and a natural rise in wages. Complaints were made,

according to the chronicles, that ‘labourers would in nowise work by the

day, but all by task, and in great,’ and that therefore, ‘especially in

harvest time, the husbandmen [i.e. the farmers and landowners] could

scarce get workmen to help in their harvest.’[540] The agricultural

interest was strongly represented in the House of Commons--the labourers

not at all. So, human nature being the same then as now, the last

Parliament had attempted virtually to re-enact the old statutes of

labourers, as against the labourers, whilst repealing all the clauses

which might possibly prove inconvenient to employers. This Parliament of

1515 completed the work; re-enacted a rigid scale of wages, and imposed

pains and penalties upon ‘artificers who should leave their work except

for the King’s service.’[541] Here again was oppression of the poor to

spare the pockets of the rich.

[Sidenote: Increase of pasture farming.]

Again, the scarcity of labour made itself felt in the increased propensity

of landowners to throw arable land into pasture, involving the sudden and

cruel ejection of thousands of the peasantry, and the enactment of

statutory provisions[542] to check this tendency was not to be wondered

at; but the rumour that many by compounding secretly with the Cardinal

were able to exempt themselves[543] from the penalties of inconvenient

statutes, leads one to suspect that Wolsey thought more of the wants of

the exchequer than of the hardship and misery of ejected peasants.

[Sidenote: Increase of crime and of executions.]

It was natural that the result of wholesale ejections, and the return of

deserting or disbanded soldiers (often utterly demoralised),[544] should

still show itself in the appalling increase of crime. Perhaps it was

equally natural that legislators who held the comforts and lives of the

labouring poor so cheap, should think that they had provided at once a

proper and efficient remedy, when by abolishing benefit of clergy in the

case of felons and murderers, and by abridging the privilege of sanctuary,

they had multiplied to a terrible extent the number of executions.[545]

If the labouring classes were thus harshly dealt with, so also the

mercantile classes did not find their interests very carefully guarded.

[Sidenote: Trade with the Netherlands interrupted.]

The breach of faith with Prince Charles in the matter of the marriage of

the Princess Mary had caused a quarrel between England and the

Netherlands, and this Parliament of 1515 had followed it up by prohibiting

the exportation of Norfolk wool to Holland and Zealand,[546] thus

virtually interrupting commercial intercourse with the Hanse Towns of

Belgium at a time when Bruges was the great mart of the world.

It was not long before the London merchants expressed a very natural

anxiety that the commercial intercourse between two countries so essential

to each other should be speedily resumed. They saw clearly that whatever

military advantage might be gained by the attempt to injure the subjects

of Prince Charles by creating a wool-famine in the Netherlands, would be

purchased at their expense. It was a game that two could play at, and it

was not long before retaliative measures were resorted to on the other

side, very injurious to English interests.

[Sidenote: More sent on an embassy.]

When therefore it was rumoured that Henry VIII. was about to send an

embassy to Flanders, to settle international disputes between the two

countries, it was not surprising that London merchants should complain to

the King of their own special grievances, and pray that their interests

might not be neglected. It seems that they pressed upon the King to attach

‘Young More,’ as he was still called, to the embassy, specially to

represent themselves. So, according to Roper, it was at the suit and

instance of the English merchants, ‘and with the King’s consent,’ that in

May, 1515, More was sent out on an embassy with Bishop Tunstal, Sampson,

and others, into Flanders.

The ambassadors were appointed generally to obtain a renewal and

continuance of the old treaties of intercourse between the two countries,

but More, aided by a John Clifford, ‘governor of the English merchants,’

was specially charged with the _commercial_ matters in dispute: Wolsey

informing Sampson of this, and Sampson replying that he ‘is pleased with

the honour of being named in the King’s commission with Tunstal and “Young

More.”’[547]

The party were detained in the city of Bruges about four months.[548] They

found it by no means easy to allay the bitter feelings which had been

created by the prohibition of the export of wool, and other alleged

injuries.[549] In September they moved on to Brussels,[550] and in October

to Antwerp,[551] and it was not till towards the end of the year that

More, having at last successfully terminated his part in the negotiations,

was able to return home.

II. COLET’S SERMON ON THE INSTALLATION OF CARDINAL WOLSEY (1515).

During the absence of More, on his embassy to Flanders, Wolsey, quit of a

Parliament which, however selfish and careless of the true interests of

the Commonweal, and especially of the poorer classes, had shown some

symptoms of grumbling at Royal demands, had pushed on more rapidly than

ever his schemes of personal ambition.

His first step had been to procure from the Pope, through the good offices

of Henry VIII., a cardinal’s hat. It might possibly be the first step even

to the papal chair; at least it would secure to him a position within the

realm second only to the throne. It chafed him that so unmanageable a man

as Warham should take precedence of himself.

Let us try to realise the magnificent spectacle of the installation of the

great Cardinal, for the sake of the part _Colet_ took in it.

[Sidenote: Installation of Cardinal Wolsey.]

It was on Sunday, November 18, 1515, that the ceremony was performed in

Westminster Abbey. Mass was sung by Archbishop Warham (with whom Wolsey

had already quarrelled), Bishop Fisher acting as crosier-bearer. The

Bishop of Lincoln read the Gospel, and the Bishop of Exeter the Epistle.

The Archbishops of Armagh and Dublin, the Bishops of Winchester, Durham,

Norwich, Ely, and Llandaff, the Abbots of Westminster, St. Alban’s, Bury,

Glastonbury, Reading, Gloucester, Winchcombe, and Tewkesbury, and the

Prior of Coventry, were all in attendance ‘in pontificalibus.’ All the

magnates of the realm were collected to swell the pomp of the ceremony.

Before this august assemblage and crowds of spectators Dean Colet had to

deliver an address to Wolsey.

[Sidenote: Colet preaches the sermon.]

As was usual with him, he preached a sermon suited to the occasion, more

so perhaps than Wolsey intended. First speaking to the people, he

explained the meaning of the title of ‘Cardinal,’ the high honour and

dignity of the office, the reasons why it was conferred on Wolsey,

alluding, first, to his merits, naming some of his particular virtues and

services; secondly, to the desire of the Pope to show, by conferring this

dignity on one of the subjects of Henry VIII., his zeal and favour to his

grace. He dwelt upon the great power and dignity of the rank of cardinal,

how it corresponded to the order of ‘Seraphim’ in the celestial hierarchy,

‘which continually burneth in the love of the glorious Trinity.’[552] And

having thus magnified the office of cardinal in the eyes of the people, he

turned to Wolsey--so proud, ambitious, and fond of magnificence--and

addressed to him these few faithful words:

[Sidenote: Colet’s address to Wolsey.]

‘Let not one in so proud a position, made most illustrious by the dignity

of such an honour, be puffed up by its greatness. But remember that our

Saviour, in his own person, said to his disciples, “I came not to be

ministered unto, but to minister,” and “He who is least among you shall be

greatest in the kingdom of heaven;” and again, “He who exalts himself

shall be humbled, and he who humbles himself shall be exalted.”’ And then,

with reference to his secular duties, and having perhaps in mind the

rumours of Wolsey’s partiality and the unfairness of recent legislation to

the poorer classes, he added--‘My Lord Cardinal, be glad, and enforce

yourself always to do and execute righteousness to rich and _poor_, with

mercy and truth.’

Then, addressing himself once more to the people, he desired them to pray

for the Cardinal, that ‘he might observe these things, and in

accomplishing the same receive his reward in the kingdom of heaven.’

This sermon ended, Wolsey, kneeling at the altar, had the formal service

read over him by Warham, and the cardinal’s hat placed upon his head. The

‘Te Deum’ was then sung, and, surrounded by dukes and earls, Wolsey left

the Abbey and passed in gorgeous procession to his own decorated halls,

there to entertain the King and Queen, in all pomp and splendour, bent

upon pursuing his projects of self-exaltation, regardless of Colet’s

honest words so faithfully spoken, and little dreaming that they would

ever find fulfilment in his own fall.[553]

[Sidenote: Wolsey made Lord Chancellor.]

Five weeks only after this event, on December 22, Warham resigned the

great seal into the King’s hands, and the Cardinal Archbishop of York

assumed the additional title of Lord Chancellor of England.[554] On the

same day, Parliament, which had met again on November 12 to grant a

further subsidy, was dissolved, and Wolsey commenced to rule the kingdom,

according to his own will and pleasure, for eight years, without a

Parliament, and with but little regard to the opinions of other members of

the King’s council.

III. MORE’S ‘UTOPIA’ (1515).

It was whilst More’s keen eye was anxiously watching the clouds gathering

upon the political horizon, and during the leisure snatched from the

business of his embassy, that he conceived the idea of embodying his

notions on social and political questions in a description of the

imaginary commonwealth of the Island of ‘Utopia’--‘Nusquama’--or

‘Nowhere.’[555]

It does not often happen that two friends, engaged in fellow-work, publish

in the same year two books, both of which take an independent and a

permanent place in the literature of Europe. But this may be said of the

‘Novum Instrumentum’ of Erasmus and the ‘Utopia’ of More.

Still more remarkable is it that two such works, written by two such men,

should, in measure, be traceable to the influence and express the views of

a more obscure but greater man than they. Yet, in truth, much of the merit

of both these works belongs indirectly to Colet.

As the ‘Novum Instrumentum,’ upon careful examination, proves to be the

expression, on the part of Erasmus, not merely of his own isolated views,

but of the views held in common by the little band of Oxford Reformers, on

the great subject of which it treats; so the ‘Utopia’ will be found to be

in great measure the expression, on More’s part, of the views of the same

little band of friends on social and political questions. On most of these

questions Erasmus and More, in the main, thought alike: and they owed much

of their common convictions indirectly to the influence of Colet.

The first book of the ‘Utopia’ was written after the second, under

circumstances and for reasons which will in due course be mentioned.

[Sidenote: Second book of the ‘Utopia’ written first.]

The second book was complete in itself, and contained the description, by

Raphael, the supposed traveller, of the Utopian commonwealth. Erasmus

informs us that More’s intention in writing it was to point out where and

from what causes European commonwealths were at fault, and he adds that it

was written with special reference to _English_ politics, with which More

was most familiar.[556]

Whilst, however, we trace its close connection with the political events

passing at the time in England, it must not be supposed that More was so

gifted with prescience that he knew what course matters would take. He

could not know, for instance, that Wolsey was about to take the reins of

government so completely into his own hands, as to dispense with a

Parliament for so many years to come. As yet, More and his friends, in

spite of Wolsey’s ostentation and vanity, which they freely ridiculed, had

a high opinion of his character and powers. It was not unnatural that,

knowing that Wolsey was a friend to education, and, to some extent at

least, inclined to patronise the projects of Erasmus, they should hope for

the best. Hence the satire contained in ‘Utopia’ was not likely to be

directed personally against Wolsey, however much his policy might come in

for its share of criticisms along with the rest.

The point of the ‘Utopia’ consisted in the contrast presented by its ideal

commonwealth to the condition and habits of the European commonwealths of

the period. This contrast is most often left to be drawn by the reader

from his own knowledge of contemporary politics, and hence the peculiar

advantage of the choice by More of such a vehicle for the bold satire it

contained. Upon any other hypothesis than that the evils against which its

satire was directed were admitted to be _real_, the romance of ‘Utopia’

must also be admitted to be harmless. To pronounce it to be dangerous was

to admit its truth.

[Sidenote: International policy of the Utopians.]

Take, _e.g._, the following passage relating to the international policy

of the Utopians:--

‘While other nations are always entering into leagues, and breaking and

renewing them, the Utopians never enter into a league with any nation. For

what is the use of a league? they say. As though there were no natural tie

between man and man! and as though any one who despised this natural tie

would, forsooth, regard mere words! They hold this opinion all the more

strongly, because in that quarter of the world the leagues and treaties of

princes are not observed as faithfully as they should be. For in _Europe_,

and especially in those parts of it where the Christian faith and religion

are professed, the sanctity of leagues is held sacred and inviolate;

partly owing to the justice and goodness of princes, and partly from their

fear and reverence of the authority of the Popes, who, as they themselves

never enter into obligations which they do not most religiously

perform[!], command other princes under all circumstances to abide by

_their_ promises, and punish delinquents by pastoral censure and

discipline. For indeed, with good reason, it would be thought a most

scandalous thing for those whose peculiar designation is “the faithful,”

to be wanting in the faithful observance of treaties. But in those distant

regions ... no faith is to be placed in leagues, even though confirmed by

the most solemn ceremonies. Some flaw is easily found in their wording

which is intentionally made ambiguous so as to leave a loophole through

which the parties may break both their league and their faith. Which

craft--yes, _fraud_ and _deceit_--if it were perpetrated with respect to a

contract between private parties, they would indignantly denounce as

sacrilege and deserving the gallows, whilst those who suggest these very

things to princes, glory in being the authors of them. Whence it comes to

pass that justice seems altogether a plebeian and vulgar virtue, quite

below the dignity of royalty; or at least there must be two kinds of it,

the one for common people and the poor, very narrow and contracted, the

other, the virtue of princes, much more dignified and free, so that _that_

only is unlawful to _them_ which they don’t _like_. The morals of princes

being such in that region, it is not, I think, without reason that the

Utopians enter into no leagues at all. Perhaps they would alter their

opinion if they lived amongst us.’[557]

[Sidenote: Its bitter satire on the policy of princes.]

Read without reference to the international history of the period, these

passages appear perfectly harmless. But read in the light of that

political history which, during the past few years, had become so mixed up

with the personal history of the Oxford Reformers, recollecting ‘_how_

religiously’ treaties had been made and broken by almost every sovereign

in Europe--Henry VIII. and the Pope included--the words in which the

justice and goodness of European princes is so mildly and modestly

extolled, become almost as bitter in their tone as the cutting censure of

Erasmus in the ‘Praise of Folly,’ or his more recent and open satire upon

kings.

[Sidenote: And on the warlike policy of Henry VIII.]

Again, bearing in mind the wars of Henry VIII., and how evidently the love

of military glory was the motive which induced him to engage in them, the

following passage contains almost as direct and pointed a censure of the

King’s passion for war as the sermon preached by Colet in his presence:--

‘The Utopians hate war as plainly brutal, although practised more eagerly

by man than by any other animal. And contrary to the sentiment of nearly

every other nation, they regard nothing more inglorious than glory derived

from war.’[558]

Turning from international politics to questions of internal policy, and

bearing in mind the hint of Erasmus, that More had in view chiefly the

politics of his own country, it is impossible not to recognise in the

‘Utopia’ the expression, again and again, of the _sense of wrong_ stirred

up in More’s heart, as he had witnessed how every interest of the

commonwealth had been sacrificed to Henry VIII.’s passion for war; and

how, in sharing the burdens it entailed, and dealing with the social evils

it brought to the surface, the interests of the poor had been sacrificed

to spare the pockets of the rich; how, whilst the very wages of the

labourer had been taxed to support the long-continued war expenditure, a

selfish Parliament, under colour of the old ‘statutes of labourers,’ had

attempted to cut down the amount of his wages, and to rob him of that fair

rise in the price of his labour which the drain upon the labour market had

produced.

[Sidenote: Satire on recent legislation and the statutes of labourers.]

It is impossible not to recognise that the recent statutes of labourers

was the target against which More’s satire was specially directed, in the

following paragraph:--

[Sidenote: Injustice to the labouring classes.]

‘Let any one dare to compare with the even justice which rules in Utopia,

the justice of other nations; amongst whom, let me die, if I find any

trace at all of equity and justice. For where is the justice, that

noblemen, goldsmiths, and usurers, and those classes who either do nothing

at all, or, in what they do, are of no great service to the commonwealth,

should live a genteel and splendid life in idleness or unproductive

labour; whilst in the meantime the servant, the waggoner, the mechanic,

and the peasant, toiling almost longer and harder than the horse, in

labour so necessary that no commonwealth could endure a year without it,

lead a life so wretched that the condition of the horse seems more to be

envied; his labour being less constant, his food more delicious to his

palate, and his mind disturbed by no fears for the future?...

‘Is not that republic unjust and ungrateful which confers such benefits

upon the gentry (as they are called) and goldsmiths and others of that

class, whilst it cares to do nothing at all for the benefit of peasants,

colliers, servants, waggoners, and mechanics, without which no republic

could exist? Is not that republic unjust which, after these men have spent

the springtime of their lives in labour, have become burdened with age and

disease, and are in want of every comfort, unmindful of all their toil,

and forgetful of all their services, rewards them only by a miserable

death?

[Sidenote: Modern governments a conspiracy of the rich against the poor.]

‘Worse than all, the rich constantly endeavour to pare away something

further from the daily wages of the poor, by private fraud, _and even by

public laws_, so that the already existing injustice (that those from whom

the republic derives the most benefit should receive the least reward), is

made still more unjust _through the enactments of public law_! Thus, after

careful reflection, it seems to me, as I hope for mercy, that our modern

republics are nothing but a conspiracy of the rich, pursuing their own

selfish interests under the name of a republic. They devise and invent all

ways and means whereby they may, in the first place, secure to themselves

the possession of what they have amassed by evil means; and, in the second

place, secure to their own use and profit the work and labour of the poor

at the lowest possible price. And so soon as the rich, in the name of the

public (_i.e._ even in the name of the poor), choose to decide that these

schemes shall be adopted, then they become _law_!’[559]

[Sidenote: The Utopian Commonwealth a true _community_.]

The whole framework of the Utopian commonwealth bears witness to More’s

conviction, that what should be aimed at in his own country and elsewhere,

was a true _community_--not a rich and educated aristocracy on the one

hand, existing side by side with a poor and ignorant peasantry on the

other--but _one people, well-to-do and educated throughout_.

[Sidenote: Every child educated.]

Thus, More’s opinion was, that in England in his time, ‘far more than four

parts of the whole [people], divided into ten, could never read

English,’[560] and probably the education of the other six-tenths was

anything but satisfactory. He shared Colet’s faith in education, and

represented that in Utopia _every child was properly educated_.[561]

[Sidenote: Reduction of the hours of labour.]

Again the great object of the social economy of Utopia was not to increase

the abundance of luxuries, or to amass a vast accumulation in few hands,

or even in national or royal hands, but to _lessen the hours of labour to

the working man_. By spreading the burden of labour more evenly over the

whole community--by taking care that there shall be no idle classes, be

they beggars or begging friars--More expressed the opinion that the hours

of labour to the working man might probably be reduced to _six_.[562]

[Sidenote: General sanitary arrangements.]

Again: living himself in Bucklersbury, in the midst of all the dirt and

filth of London’s narrow streets; surrounded by the unclean,

ill-ventilated houses of the poor, whose floors of clay and rushes, never

cleansed, were pointed out by Erasmus as breeding pestilence, and inviting

the ravages of the sweating sickness; himself a commissioner of sewers,

and having thus some practical knowledge of London’s sanitary

arrangements; More described the towns of Utopia as well and regularly

built, with wide streets, waterworks, hospitals, and numerous common

halls; all the houses well protected from the weather, as nearly as might

be fireproof, three stories high, with plenty of windows, and doors both

back and front, the back door always opening into a well-kept garden.[563]

All this was Utopian doubtless, and the result in Utopia of the still more

Utopian abolition of private property; but the gist and point of it

consisted in the contrast it presented with what he saw around him in

Europe, and especially in England, and men could hardly fail to draw the

lesson he intended to teach.

It will not be necessary here to dwell further upon the details of the

social arrangements of More’s ideal commonwealth,[564] or to enter at

length upon the philosophical opinions of the Utopians; but a word or two

will be needful to point out the connection of the latter with the views

of that little band of friends whose joint history I am here trying to

trace.

[Sidenote: Faith in both science and religion.]

One of the points most important and characteristic is the _fearless faith

in the laws of nature combined with a profound faith in religion_, which

runs through the whole work, and which may, I think, be traced also in

every chapter of the history of the Oxford Reformers. Their scientific

knowledge was imperfect, as it needs must have been, before the days of

Copernicus and Newton; but they had their eyes fearlessly open in every

direction, with no foolish misgivings lest science and Christianity might

be found to clash. They remembered (what is not always remembered in this

nineteenth century), that if there be any truth in Christianity, Nature

and her laws on the one hand and Christianity and her laws on the other,

being framed and fixed by the same Founder, must be in harmony, and that

therefore for Christians to act contrary to the laws of Nature, or to shut

their eyes to facts, on the ground that they are opposed to Christianity,

is--to speak plainly--to fight against one portion of the Almighty’s laws

under the supposed sanction of another; to fight, therefore, without the

least chance of success, and with every prospect of doing harm instead of

good.

[Sidenote: Theory of morals both Utilitarian and Christian.]

Hence the moral philosophy of the Utopians was both Utilitarian and

Christian. Its distinctive features, according to More, were--1st, that

they placed _pleasure_ (in the sense of ‘utility’) as the chief object of

life; and 2ndly, that they drew their arguments in support of this as well

from the principles of religion as from natural reason.[565]

They defined ‘pleasure’ as ‘every emotion or state of body or mind in

which nature leads us to take delight.’ And from reason they deduced, as

modern utilitarians do, that not merely the pleasure of the moment must be

regarded as the object of life, but what will produce the greatest amount

and highest kind of pleasure in the long run; that, _e.g._ a greater

pleasure must not be sacrificed to a lesser one, or a pleasure pursued

which will be followed by pain. And from reason they also deduced that,

nature having bound men together by the ties of Society, and no one in

particular being a special favourite of nature, men are bound, in the

pursuit of pleasure, to regard the pleasures of others as well as their

own--to act, in fact, in the spirit of the golden rule; which course of

action, though it may involve some immediate sacrifice, they saw clearly

never costs so much as it brings back, both in the interchange of mutual

benefits, and in the mental pleasure of conferring kindnesses on others.

And thus they arrived at the same result as modern utilitarians, that,

while ‘nature enjoins _pleasure_ as the end of all men’s efforts,’ she

enjoins such a reasonable and far-sighted pursuit of it that ‘to live by

this rule is “_virtue_.”’

In other words, in Utopian philosophy, ‘_utility_’ was recognised as _a_

criterion of right and wrong; and from experience of what, under the laws

of Nature, is man’s real far-sighted interest, was derived _a_ sanction to

the golden rule. And thus, instead of setting themselves against the

doctrine of utility, as some would do, on the ground of a supposed

opposition to Christianity, they recognised the identity between the two

standards. They recognised, as Mr. Mill urges, that Christians ought to do

now, ‘in the golden rule of Jesus of Nazareth, the complete spirit of the

ethics of utility.’[566]

The Utopians had no hesitation in defining ‘virtue’ as ‘living according

to nature;’ for, they said, ‘to this end we have been created by God.’

Their religion itself taught them that ‘God in his goodness created men

for happiness;’ and therefore there was nothing unnatural in his

rewarding, with the promise of endless happiness hereafter, that ‘virtue’

which is living according to those very laws of nature which He Himself

established to promote the happiness of men on earth.

Nor was this, in More’s hands, a merely philosophical theory. He made the

right practical use of it, in correcting those false notions of religion

and piety which had poisoned the morality of the middle ages, and soured

the devotion even of those mediæval mystics whose mission it was to uphold

the true religion of the heart. Who does not see that the deep devotion

even of a Tauler, or of a Thomas à Kempis, would have been deepened had

it recognised the truth that the religion of Christ was intended to add

heartiness and happiness to daily life, and not to draw men out of it;

that the highest ideal of virtue is, not to stamp out those feelings and

instincts which, under the rule of selfishness, make a hell of earth, but

so, as it were, to tune them into harmony, that, under the guidance of a

heart of love, they may add to the charm and the perfectness of life? The

ascetic himself who, seeing the vileness and the misery which spring out

of selfish riot in pleasure, condemns natural pleasure as almost in itself

a sin, fills the heaven of his dreams with white robes, golden crowns,

harps, music and angelic songs. Even _his_ highest ideal of perfect

existence is the unalloyed enjoyment of pleasure. He is a Utilitarian in

his dreams of heaven.

More, in his ‘Utopia,’ dreamed of this celestial morality as practised

under earthly conditions. He had banished selfishness from his

commonwealth. He was bitter as any ascetic against vanity, and empty show,

and shams of all kinds, as well as all sensuality and excess; but his

definition of ‘virtue’ as ‘living according to nature’ made him reject the

ascetic notion of virtue as consisting in crossing all natural desires, in

abstinence from natural pleasure, and stamping out the natural instincts.

The Utopians, More said, ‘gratefully acknowledged the tenderness of the

great Father of nature, who hath given us appetites which make the things

necessary for our preservation also agreeable to us. How miserable would

life be if hunger and thirst could only be relieved by bitter drugs.’[567]

Hence, too, the Utopians esteemed it not only ‘madness,’ but also

‘_ingratitude to God_,’ to waste the body by fasting, or to reject the

delights of life, unless by so doing a man can serve the public or promote

the happiness of others.[568]

[Sidenote: The reverence of the Utopians for natural science.]

Hence also they regarded the pursuit of natural science, the ‘searching

out the secrets of nature,’ not only as an agreeable pursuit, but as

‘peculiarly acceptable to God.’[569] Seeing that they believed that ‘the

first dictate of reason is love and reverence for Him to whom we owe all

we have and all we can hope for,’[570] it was natural that they should

regard the pursuit of science rather as a part of their religion than as

in any way antagonistic to it. But their science was not likely to be

speculative and dogmatic like that of the Schoolmen; accordingly, whilst

they were said to be very expert in the mathematical sciences (_numerandi

et metiendi scientia_), they knew nothing, More said, ‘of what even boys

learn here in the “_Parva logicalia_;”’ and whilst, by long use and

observation, they had acquired very exact knowledge of the motions of the

planets and stars, and even of winds and weather, and had invented very

exact instruments, they had never dreamed, More said, of those

astrological arts of divination ‘which are now-a-days in vogue amongst

Christians.’[571]

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Their religion broad and tolerant.]

[Sidenote: No man punished for his religion.]

From the expression of so fearless a faith in the consistency of

Christianity with science, it might be inferred that More would represent

the religion of the Utopians as at once broad and tolerant. It could not

logically be otherwise. The Utopians, we are told, differed very widely;

but notwithstanding all their different objects of worship, they agreed

in thinking that there is one Supreme Being who made and governs the

world. By the exigencies of the romance, the Christian religion had only

been recently introduced into the island. It existed there side by side

with other and older religions, and hence the difficulties of complete

toleration in Utopia were much greater hypothetically than they would be

in any European country. Still, sharing Colet’s hatred of persecution,

More represented that it was one of the oldest laws of Utopia ‘that no man

is to be punished for his religion.’ Every one might be of any religion he

pleased, and might use argument to induce others to accept it. It was only

when men resorted to other force than that of persuasion, using reproaches

and violence, that they were banished from Utopia; and _then_, not on

account of their religion, and irrespective of whether their religion were

true or false, but for sowing sedition and creating a tumult.[572]

This law Utopus founded to preserve the public peace, and for the

interests of religion itself. Supposing only one religion to be true and

the rest false (which he dared not rashly assert), Utopus had faith that

in the long run the innate force of truth would prevail, if supported only

by fair argument, and not damaged by resort to violence and tumult. Thus,

he did not punish even avowed atheists, although he considered them unfit

for any public trust.[573]

[Sidenote: Priests of both sexes selected by ballot.]

[Sidenote: Utopian priests.]

Their priests were very few in number, of either sex,[574] and, like all

their other magistrates, elected by ballot (_suffragiis occultis_);[575]

and it was a point of dispute even with the Utopian _Christians_, whether

_they_ could not elect their own Christian priests in like manner, and

qualify them to perform all priestly offices, without any apostolic

succession or authority from the Pope.[576] Their priests were, in fact,

rather conductors of the public worship, inspectors of the public morals,

and ministers of education, than ‘priests’ in any sacerdotal sense of the

word. Thus whilst representing _Confession_ as in common use amongst the

Utopians, More significantly described them as confessing not to the

priests but to the heads of families.[577] Whilst also, as in Europe, such

was the respect shown them that they were not amenable to the civil

tribunals, it was said to be on account of the extreme fewness of their

number, and the high character secured by their mode of election, that no

great inconvenience resulted from this exemption in Utopian practice.

If the diversity of religions in Utopia made it more difficult to suppose

perfect toleration, and thus made the contrast between Utopian and

European practice in this respect all the more telling, so also was this

the case in respect to the conduct of _public worship_.

[Sidenote: Public worship in Utopia.]

The hatred of the Oxford Reformers for the endless dissensions of European

Christians; the advice Colet was wont to give to theological students, ‘to

keep to the Bible and the Apostles’ Creed, and let divines, if they like,

dispute about the rest;’ the appeal of Erasmus to Servatius, whether it

would not be better for ‘all Christendom to be regarded as one monastery,

and all Christians as belonging to the same religious brotherhood,’--all

pointed, if directed to the practical question of public worship, to a

mode of worship in which all of every shade of sentiment could unite.

This might be a dream even then, while as yet Christendom was nominally

united in one Catholic Church; and still more practically impossible in a

country like Utopia, where men worshipped the Supreme Being under

different symbols and different names, as it might be now even in a

Protestant country like England, where religion seems to be the source of

social divisions and castes rather than a tie of brotherhood, separating

men in their education, in their social life, and even in their graves, by

the hard line of sectarian difference. It might be a dream, but it was one

worth a place in the dream-land of More’s ideal commonwealth.

[Sidenote: All sects unite in public worship.]

Temples, nobly built and spacious, in whose solemn twilight men of all

sects meet, in spite of their distinctions, to unite in a public worship

avowedly so arranged that nothing may be seen or heard which shall jar

with the feelings of any class of the worshippers--nothing in which all

cannot unite (for every sect performs its own _peculiar_ rites in

_private_);--no images, so that every one may represent the Deity to his

own thoughts in his own way; no forms of prayer, but such as every one may

use without prejudice to his own private opinion;--a service so expressive

of their common brotherhood that they think it a great impiety to enter

upon it with a consciousness of anger or hatred to any one, without having

first purified their hearts and reconciled every difference; incense and

other sweet odours and waxen lights burned, not from any notion that they

can confer any benefit on God, which even men’s prayers cannot, but

because they are useful aids to the worshippers;[578] the men occupying

one side of the temple, the women the other, and all clothed in white;

the whole people rising as the priest who conducts the worship enters the

temple in his beautiful vestments, wonderfully wrought of birds’ plumage,

to join in hymns of praise, accompanied by music; then priest and people

uniting in solemn prayer to God in a set form of words, so composed that

each can apply its meaning to himself, offering thanks for the blessings

which surround them, for the happiness of their commonwealth, for their

having embraced a religious persuasion which they _hope_ is the most true

one; praying that if they are mistaken they may be led to what is _really_

the true one, so that all may be brought to unity of faith and practice,

unless in his inscrutable will the Almighty should otherwise ordain; and

concluding with a prayer that, as soon as it may please Him, He may take

them to Himself; lastly, this prayer concluded, the whole congregation

bowing solemnly to the ground, and then, after a short pause, separating

to spend the remainder of the day in innocent amusement,--this was More’s

ideal of public worship![579]

Such was the second book of the ‘Utopia,’ probably written by More whilst

on the embassy, towards the close of 1515, or soon after his return. Well

might he conclude with the words, ‘I freely confess that many things in

the commonwealth of Utopia I rather _wish_ than _hope_ to see adopted in

_our own_!’

IV. THE ‘INSTITUTIO PRINCIPIS CHRISTIANI’ OF ERASMUS (1516).

Some months before More began to write his ‘Utopia,’ Erasmus had commenced

a little treatise with a very similar object. In the spring of 1515,

while staying with More in London, he had mentioned, in a letter to

Cardinal Grimanus[580] at Rome, that he was already at work on his

‘Institutes of the Christian Prince,’ designed for the benefit of Prince

Charles, into whose honorary service he had recently been drawn.

[Sidenote: Connection between the ‘Utopia’ and the ‘Christian Prince.’]

The similarity in the sentiments expressed in this little treatise and in

the ‘Utopia’ would lead to the conclusion that they were written in

concert by the two friends, as their imitations of Lucian had been under

similar circumstances. Political events must have often formed the topic

of their conversation when together in the spring; and the connection of

the one with the Court of Henry VIII. and the other with that of Prince

Charles, would be likely to give their thoughts a practical direction.

Possibly they may have parted with the understanding that, independently

of each other, both works should be written on the common subject, and

expressing their common views. Be this as it may, while More went on his

embassy to Flanders, and returned to write his ‘Utopia,’ Erasmus went to

Basle to correct the proof-sheets of the ‘Novum Instrumentum,’ and to

finish the ‘Institutio Principis Christiani.’

On his return from Basle in the spring of the following year Erasmus

brought his manuscript with him, and left it under the care of the

Chancellor of Prince Charles,[581] to be printed by Thierry Martins, the

printer of Louvain, whilst he himself proceeded to England. Thus it was

being printed while Erasmus was in England in August 1516, and while the

manuscript of the second book of More’s ‘Utopia’ was still lying

unpublished, waiting until More should find leisure to write the

Introductory Book which he was intending to prefix to it.

* * * * *

The publication by Erasmus of the ‘Christian Prince’ so soon after the

‘Novum Instrumentum’ that the two came before the public together was not

without its significance. It gave to the public expression of the views of

Erasmus that wideness and completeness of range which More had given to

his views by embracing both religious and political subjects in his as yet

unpublished ‘Utopia.’

[Sidenote: Christianity and the laws of nature.]

By laying hold of the truth that the laws of nature and Christianity owe

their origin to the same great Founder, More had adopted the one

standpoint from which alone, in the long run, the Christian in an age of

rapid progress can look calmly on the discoveries of science and

philosophy without fears for his faith. He had trusted his bark to the

current, because he was sure it must lead into the ocean of truth; while

other men, for lack of that faith, were hugging the shore, mistaking

forsooth, in their idle dreams, the shallow bay in which they had moored

their craft for the fathomless ocean itself! This faith of More’s had been

shared by Colet--nay, most probably More had caught it from him. It was

Colet who had been the first of the little group of Oxford Reformers to

proclaim that Christianity had nothing to fear from the ‘new

learning,’--witness his school, and the tone and spirit of his Oxford

lectures. Erasmus, too, had shared in this same faith. In his ‘Novum

Instrumentum’ he had placed Christianity, so far as he was able, in its

proper place--at the head of the advanced thought of the age.

But More had gone one step further. The man who believes that Christianity

and the laws of nature were thus framed in perfect harmony by the same

Founder must have faith in _both_. As he will not shrink from accepting

the results of science and philosophy, so he will not shrink, on the other

hand, from carrying out Christianity into practice in every department of

social and political life.

Accordingly More had fearlessly done this in his ‘Utopia.’ And this Colet

also had done in his own practical way; preaching Christian politics to

Henry VIII. and Wolsey, from his pulpit as occasion required, believing

Christianity to be equally of force in the sphere of international policy

as within the walls of a cloister. And now, in the ‘Institutio Principis

Christiani,’ Erasmus followed in the same track for the special benefit of

Prince Charles, who, then sixteen years old, had succeeded, on the death

of Ferdinand in the spring of 1516, to the crowns of Castile and Aragon,

as well as to the kingdoms of Naples and Sicily and of the island of

Sardinia.

[Sidenote: ‘_The Prince_,’ of Machiavelli.]

[Sidenote: Hugo Grotius.]

The full significance of this joint action of the three friends will only

be justly appreciated if it be taken into account that probably, at the

very moment when Erasmus was writing his ‘Christian Prince’ and More his

‘Utopia,’ the as yet unpublished manuscript of ‘_The Prince_’ of

_Machiavelli_ was lying in the study of its author. The semi-pagan school

of Italy was not only drifting into the denial of Christianity itself, but

it had already cast aside the Christian standard of morals as one which

would not work in practice at least in political affairs. The

Machiavellian theory was already avowedly accepted and acted upon in

international affairs by the Pope himself; and indeed, as I have said, it

was not a theory invented by Machiavelli; what that great philosopher had

achieved was rather the codification of the current practice and

traditions of the age.[582] A revolution had to be wrought in public

feeling before the Christian theory of politics could be established in

place of the one then in the ascendant--a revolution to attempt which at

that time might well have seemed like a forlorn hope. But placed as the

Oxford Reformers were, so close to the ears of royalty, in a position

which gave them some influence at least with Henry VIII., with Prince

Charles, and with Leo X., it was their duty to do what they could. And

possibly it may have been in some measure owing to their labours that a

century later Hugo Grotius, the father of the modern international system,

was able in the name of Europe to reject the Machiavellian theory as one

that would not work, and to adopt in its place the Christian theory as the

one which was sanctioned by the laws of nature, and upon which alone it

was safe to found the polity of the civilised world.[583]

It may be worth while to notice also one other point which may be said to

turn upon this perception of the relation of Christianity to the laws of

nature.

To the man who does not recognise the harmony between them, religion and

the world are divorced, as it were. Religion has no place in politics or

business, and scarcely even in family life. These secular matters begin to

be considered as the devil’s concerns. A man must choose whether he will

be a monk or man of the world, or still more often he tries to live at the

same time two separate lives, the one sacred, the other secular, trusting

that he shall be able to atone for the sins of the one by the penances and

devotions of the other. This was the condition into which the dogmatic

creed of the Schoolmen had, in fact, brought its adherents. It is a matter

of notorious history that there _had_ grown up this vicious severance

between the clergy and the laity, and between things religious and

secular, and that in consequence religion had lost its practical and

healthy tone, while worldly affairs were avowedly conducted in a worldly

spirit. The whole machinery of confession, indulgences, and penances bore

witness as well to the completeness of the severance as to the

hopelessness of any reunion.

But to the man who _does_ recognise in the laws of nature the laws of the

Giver of the golden rule, the distinction between things religious and

things secular begins to give way. In proportion as his heart becomes

Christian, and thus catches the spirit of the golden rule, and his mind

becomes enlightened and begins to understand the laws of social and

political economy, in that proportion does his religion lose its ascetic

and sickly character, and find its proper sphere, not in the fulfilment of

a routine of religious observances, but in the honest discharge of the

daily duties which belong to his position in life.

[Sidenote: The ‘_Christian Prince_’ of Erasmus.]

The position assumed by Erasmus in these respects will be best learned by

a brief examination of the ‘Institutes of the Christian Prince.’

First he struck at the root of the notion that a prince having received

his kingdom _jure Divino_ had a right to use it for his own selfish ends.

He laid down at starting the proposition that the one thing which a

‘prince ought to keep in view in the administration of his government is

that same thing which a people ought to keep in view in choosing a prince,

viz. _the public good_.’[584]

Christianity in his view was as obligatory on a prince as on a priest or

monk. Thus he wrote to Prince Charles:--

‘As often as it comes into your mind that you are a prince, call to mind

also that you are a _Christian_ prince.’[585]

[Sidenote: Duties of a Christian Prince to his people.]

But the Christianity he spoke of was a very different thing from what it

was thought to be by many. ‘Do not think,’ he wrote, ‘that Christianity

consists in ceremonies, that is, in the observance of the decrees and

constitutions of the Church. The Christian is not he who is baptized, or

he who is consecrated, or he who is present at holy rites; but he who is

united to Christ in closest affection, and who shows it by his holy

actions.... Do not think that you have done your duty to Christ when you

have sent a fleet against the Turks, or when you have founded a church or

a monastery. There is no duty by the performance of which _you_ can more

secure the favour of God _than by making yourself a prince useful to the

people_.’[586]

Having taken at the outset this healthy and practical view of the

relations of Christianity to the conduct of a prince, Erasmus proceeded to

refer everything to the Christian standard. Thus he continued:--

‘If you find that you cannot defend your kingdom, without violating

justice, without shedding much human blood, without much injury to

religion, rather lay it down and retire from it.’

But he was not to retire from the duties of his kingdom merely to save

himself from trouble or danger. ‘If you cannot defend the interests of

your people without risk to your life, prefer the public good even to your

own life.’[587]... The Christian prince should be a true father to his

people.[588]

The good of the people was from the Christian point of view to override

everything else, even royal prerogatives.

[Sidenote: Limited monarchy the best.]

‘If princes were perfect in every virtue, a pure and simple monarchy

might be desirable; but as this can hardly ever be in actual practice, as

human affairs are now, a _limited monarchy_[589] is preferable, one in

which the aristocratic and democratic elements are mixed and united, and

so balance one another.’[590] And lest Prince Charles should kick against

the pricks, and shrink from the abridgment of his autocratic power,

Erasmus tells him that ‘if a prince wish well to the republic, his power

will not be restrained, but aided by these means.’[591]

After contrasting the position of the pagan and Christian prince, Erasmus

further remarks:--

[Sidenote: Consent of the people makes a Prince.]

‘He who wields his empire as becomes a Christian, does not _part_ with his

right, but he holds it in a different way; both more gloriously and more

safely.... Those are not your subjects whom you _force_ to obey you, for

it is _consent_ which makes a prince, but those are your true subjects who

serve you voluntarily.... The duties between a prince and people are

_mutual_. The people owe _you_ taxes, loyalty, and honour; you in your

turn ought to be to the people a good and watchful prince. If you wish to

levy taxes on your people as of right, take care that you first perform

your part--first in the discharge of your duties pay _your_ taxes to

them.’[592]

[Sidenote: Taxes should not oppress the poor.]

Proceeding from the general to the particular, there is a separate

chapter, ‘De Vectigalibus et Exactionibus,’ remarkable for the clear

expression of the views which More had advanced in his ‘Utopia,’ and

which the Oxford Reformers held in common, with regard to the unchristian

way in which the interests of the poor were too often sacrificed and lost

sight of in the levying of taxes. The great aim of a prince, he contended,

should be to reduce taxation as much as possible. Rather than increase it,

it would be better, he wrote, for a prince to reduce his unnecessary

expenditure, to dismiss idle ministers, to avoid wars and foreign

enterprises, to restrain the rapacity of ministers, and rather to study

the right administration of revenues than their augmentation. If it should

be really necessary to exact something from the people, then, he

maintained, it is the part of a good prince to choose such ways of doing

so as should cause as little inconvenience as possible to those of

_slender means_. It may perhaps be expedient to call upon the rich to be

frugal; but to reduce the _poor_ to hunger and crime would be both most

inhuman and also hardly _safe_.... It requires care also, he continued,

lest the inequality of property should be too great. ‘Not that I would

wish to take away any property from any one by force, but that means

should be taken to prevent the wealth of the multitude from getting into

few hands.’[593]

[Sidenote: Necessaries of life should not be taxed.]

[Sidenote: It is best to tax luxuries.]

Erasmus then proceeded to inquire what mode of taxation would prove least

burdensome to the people. And the conclusion he came to was, that ‘a good

prince will burden with as few taxes as possible such things as are in

_common use amongst the lowest classes_, such things as corn, bread, beer,

wine, clothes, and other things necessary to life. Whereas these are what

are now most burdened, and that in more than one way; first by heavy taxes

which are farmed out, and commonly called _assizes_; then by _customs_,

which again are farmed out in the same way; lastly by _monopolies_, from

which little revenue comes to the prince, while the poor are mulcted with

great charges. Therefore it would be best, as I have said, that a prince

should increase his revenue by contracting his expenditure; ... and if he

cannot avoid taxing something, and the affairs of the people require it,

let those foreign products be taxed which minister not so much to the

necessities of life as to _luxury and pleasure, and which are used only by

the rich_; as, for instance, fine linen, silk, purple, pepper, spices,

ointments, gems, and whatever else is of that kind.’[594]

Erasmus wound up this chapter on taxation by applying the principles of

common honesty to the question of _coinage_, in connection with which many

iniquities were perpetrated by princes in the sixteenth century.

[Sidenote: Honesty in regard to the coinage.]

‘Finally, in coining money a good prince will maintain that good faith

which he owes to both God and man, ... in which matter there are four ways

in which the people are wont to be plundered, as we saw some time ago

after the death of Charles, when a long anarchy more hurtful than any

tyranny afflicted your dominions. First the metal of the coins is

deteriorated by mixture with alloys, next its weight is lessened, then it

is diminished by clipping, and lastly its nominal value is increased or

lowered whenever such a process would be likely to suit the exchequer of

the prince.’[595]

In the chapter on the ‘_Making and Amending of Laws_,’[596] Erasmus in the

same way fixes upon some of the points which are so prominently mentioned

in the ‘Utopia.’

[Sidenote: Prevention of crime rather than punishment.]

Thus he urges that the greatest attention should be paid, not to the

punishment of crimes when committed, but to the prevention of the

commission of crimes worthy of punishment. Again, there is a paragraph in

which it is urged that just as a wise surgeon does not proceed to

amputation except as a last resort, so all remedies should be tried before

_capital punishment_ is resorted to.[597] This was one of the points urged

by More.

[Sidenote: The nobility.]

[Sidenote: War.]

Thus also in speaking of the removal of occasions and causes of crime, he

urged, just as More had done, that idle people should either be set to

work or banished from the realm. The number of priests and monasteries

should be kept in moderation. Other idle classes--especially

soldiers--should not be allowed. As to the nobility, he would not, he

said, detract from the honour of their noble birth, if their character

were noble also. ‘But if they are such as we see plenty nowadays, softened

by ease, made effeminate by pleasure, unskilled in all good arts,

revellers, eager sportsmen, not to say anything worse; ... why should this

race of men be preferred to shoemakers or husbandmen?’[598] The next

chapter is ‘_De Magistratibus et Officiis_,’ and then follows one, ‘_De

Fœderibus_,’[599] in which Erasmus takes the same ground as that taken by

More, that Christianity itself is a bond of union between Christian

nations which ought to make leagues unnecessary.[600] In the chapter ‘_De

Bello suscipiendo_,’ he expressed his well-known hatred of war. ‘A good

prince,’ he said, ‘will never enter upon any war at all unless after

trying all possible means it cannot be avoided. If we were of this mind,

scarcely any wars would ever occur between any nations. Lastly, if so

pestilential a thing cannot be avoided, it should be the next care of a

prince that it should be waged with as little evil as possible to his

people, and as little expense as possible of Christian blood, and as

quickly as possible brought to an end.’ It was natural that, holding as he

did in common with Colet and More such strong views against war, he should

express them as strongly in this little treatise as he had already done

elsewhere. It is not needful here to follow his remarks throughout. It

would involve much repetition. But it may be interesting to inquire what

remedy or substitutes for war be proposed. He mentioned two. First, the

reference of disputes between princes to arbitrators; second, the

disposition on the part of princes rather to concede a point in dispute

than to insist upon it at far greater cost than the thing is worth.[601]

[Sidenote: Conclusion.]

He concludes this, the last chapter of the book, with a personal appeal to

Prince Charles. ‘Christ founded a bloodless empire. He wished it always to

be bloodless. He delighted to call himself the “Prince of _Peace_.” May He

grant likewise that by _your_ good offices and by _your_ wisdom there may

be a cessation at last from the maddest of wars. The remembrance of past

evils will commend peace to our acceptance, and the calamities of former

times redouble the honour of the benefits conferred by _you_!’

This was the ‘Institutio Principis Christiani’ of Erasmus; a work written,

as I have said, while More was writing his ‘Utopia,’ but printed in August

1516, at Louvain, while Erasmus was in England, and while the manuscript

of the ‘Utopia’ was lying unpublished, waiting for the completion of

More’s Introduction.

V. MORE COMPLETES HIS ‘UTOPIA’--THE INTRODUCTORY BOOK (1516).

More’s Introduction was still unwritten, and the ‘Utopia’ thus in an

unfinished state, when Erasmus arrived in England in the autumn of 1516.

Erasmus seems on this occasion to have spent more time with Fisher at

Rochester than with More in London; but he at least paid the latter a

short visit on his way to Rochester,[602] and repeated it before leaving

England. The latter visit seems also to have been more than a flying one,

for we find him writing to Ammonius, that he might possibly stay a few

days longer in England, were he not ‘afraid of making himself a stale

guest to More’s wife.’[603] Encouraged as More doubtless was by Erasmus,

and spurred on by the knowledge that the ‘Institutio Principis Christiani’

was already in the press, he still does not seem to have been able to find

time to complete his manuscript before Erasmus left England. Probably,

however, it was arranged between them that it should be completed and

printed with as little delay as possible at the same press and in the same

type and form as Erasmus’s work.

[Sidenote: ‘Utopia’ sent to the press.]

The manuscript was accordingly sent after Erasmus in October,[604] and by

him and Peter Giles at once placed in the hands of Thierry Martins for

publication at Louvain.[605]

This long delay in the completion of the ‘Utopia’ had been caused by a

concurrence of circumstances. More had been closely occupied by public

matters, in addition to his judicial duties in the city, and a large

private practice at the bar--a combination of pressing engagements likely

to leave him but little leisure for literary purposes. Even when the daily

routine of public labours was completed, there were domestic duties which

it was not in his nature to neglect. He was passionately fond of his home,

and ‘reckoned the enjoyment of his family a necessary part of the business

of the man who does not wish to be a stranger in his own house.’[606]

Nor did the ‘Utopia’ itself suffer from the delay in its publication.

Instead of losing its freshness it gained in interest and point; for, as

it happened, the introductory book was written under circumstances which

gave it a peculiar value which it could not otherwise have had.

On More’s return to England from his foreign mission, he had been obliged

to throw himself again into the vortex of public business. The singular

discretion and ability displayed by him in the conduct of the delicate

negotiations entrusted to his charge on this and another occasion, had

induced Henry VIII. to try to attach him to his court.

[Sidenote: More declines to enter the Royal service.]

Hitherto he had acted more on behalf of the London merchants than directly

for the King. Now Wolsey was ordered to retain him in the King’s service.

More was unwilling, however, to accede to the proposal, and made excuses.

Wolsey, thinking no doubt that he shrank from relinquishing the emoluments

of his position as undersheriff, and the income arising from his practice

at the bar, offered him a pension, and suggested that the King could not,

consistently with his honour, offer him less than the income he would

relinquish by entering his service.[607] More wrote to Erasmus that he had

declined the pension, and thought he should continue to do so; he

preferred, he said, his present judicial position to a higher one, and was

afraid that were he to accept a pension without relinquishing it, his

fellow-citizens would lose their confidence in his impartiality in case

any questions were to arise, as they sometimes did, between them and the

Crown. The fact that he was indebted to the King for his pension might

make them think him a little the less true to their cause.[608] Wolsey

reported More’s refusal to the King, who it seems honourably declined to

press him further at present.[609] Such, however, was More’s popularity in

the city, and the rising estimation in which he was held, that it was

evident the King would not rest until he had drawn him into his

service--yes, ‘_dragged_,’ exclaims Erasmus, ‘for no one ever tried harder

to get admitted to court than he did to keep out of it.’[610]

[Sidenote: Writes the Introductory Book to explain his reasons.]

As the months of 1516 went by, More, feeling that his entry into Royal

service was only a question of time, determined, it would seem, to take

the opportunity, while as yet he was free and unfettered, to insert in the

introduction to his unfinished ‘Utopia’ still more pointed allusion to one

or two matters relating to the social condition of the country and the

policy of Henry VIII.; also at the same time to make some public

explanation of his reluctance to enter the service of his sovereign.

The prefatory book which More now added to his description of the

commonwealth of Utopia was arranged so as to introduce the latter to the

reader in a way likely to attract his interest, and to throw an air of

reality over the romance.

[Sidenote: More’s imaginary story.]

[Sidenote: Meets Raphael.]

More related how he had been sent as an ambassador to Flanders in company

with Tunstal, to compose some important disputes between Henry VIII. and

Prince Charles. They met the Flemish ambassadors at Bruges. They had

several meetings without coming to an agreement. While the others went

back to Brussels to consult their prince, More went to Antwerp to see his

friend Peter Giles. One day, coming from mass, he saw Giles talking to a

stranger--a man past middle age, his face tanned, his beard long, his

cloak hanging carelessly about him, and wearing altogether the aspect of a

seafaring man.

More then related how he had joined in the conversation, which turned upon

the manners and habits of the people of the new lands which Raphael (for

that was the stranger’s name) had visited in voyages he had recently taken

with Vespucci. After he had told them how well and wisely governed were

some of these newly-found peoples, and especially the Utopians, and here

and there had thrown in just criticisms on the defects of European

governments, Giles asked the question, why, with all his knowledge and

judgment, he did not enter into Royal service, in which his great

experience might be turned to so good an account? Raphael expressed in

reply his unwillingness to enter into Royal servitude. Giles explained

that he did not mean any ‘_servitude_’ at all, but _honourable service_,

in which he might confer great public benefits, as well as increase his

own happiness. The other replied that he did not see how he was to be made

happier by doing what would be so entirely against his inclinations. Now

he was free to do as he liked, and he suspected very few courtiers could

say the same.

[Sidenote: Why Raphael will not enter into Royal service.]

Here More put in a word, and urged that even though it might be against

the grain to Raphael, he ought not to throw away the great influence for

good which he might exert by entering the council of some great prince.

Raphael replied that his friend More was doubly mistaken. His talents were

not so great as he supposed, and if they were, his sacrifice of rest and

peace would be thrown away. It would do no good, for nearly all princes

busy themselves far more in military affairs (of which, he said, he

neither had, nor wished to have, any experience), than in the good arts of

peace. They care a great deal more how, by fair means or foul, to acquire

new kingdoms, than how to govern well those which they have already.

Besides, their ministers either are, or think that they are, too wise to

listen to any new counsellor; and, if they ever do so, it is only to

attach to their own interest some one whom they see to be rising in their

prince’s favour.

[Sidenote: Raphael on the number of thieves in England.]

After this, Raphael having made a remark which showed that he had been in

England, the conversation turned incidentally upon _English_ affairs, and

Raphael proceeded to tell how once at the table of Cardinal Morton he had

expressed his opinions freely upon the social evils of England. He had on

this occasion, he said, ventured to condemn the system of the wholesale

execution of thieves, who were hanged so fast that there were sometimes

twenty on a gibbet.[611] The severity was both unjustly great, and also

ineffectual. No punishment, however severe, could deter those from robbing

who can find no other means of livelihood.

Then Raphael is made to allude to three causes why the number of thieves

was so large:--

1st. There are numbers of wounded and disbanded soldiers who are unable to

resume their old employments, and are too old to learn new ones.

2nd. The gentry who live at ease out of the labour of others, keep around

them so great a number of idle fellows not brought up to any trade, that

often, from the death of their lord or their own illness, numbers of these

idle fellows are liable to be thrown upon the world without resources, to

steal or starve. Raphael then is made to ridicule the notion that it is

needful to maintain this idle class, as some argue, in order to keep up a

reserve of men ready for the army, and still more severely to criticise

the notion that it is necessary to keep a standing army in time of peace.

France, he said, had found to her cost the evil of keeping in readiness

these human wild beasts, as also had Rome, Carthage, and Syria, in ancient

times.

[Sidenote: Raphael on the rage for pasture-farming.]

3rd. Raphael pointed out as another cause of the number of thieves--an

evil peculiar to England--the rage for sheep-farming, and the ejections

consequent upon it. ‘For,’ he said, ‘when some greedy and insatiable

fellow, the pest of his county, chooses to enclose several thousand acres

of contiguous fields within the circle of one sheepfold, farmers are

ejected from their holdings, being got rid of either by fraud or force, or

tired out by repeated injuries into parting with their property. In this

way it comes to pass that these poor wretches, men, women, husbands,

wives, orphans, widows, parents with little children--households greater

in number than in wealth, for arable-farming requires many hands--all

these emigrate from their native fields without knowing where to go. Their

effects are not worth much at best; they are obliged to sell them for

almost nothing when they are forced to go. And the produce of the sale

being spent, as it soon must be, what resource then is left to them but

either to steal, and to be hanged, justly forsooth, for stealing, or to

wander about and beg. If they do the latter, they are thrown into prison

as idle vagabonds when they would thankfully work if only some one would

give them employment. For there is no work for husbandmen when there is no

arable-farming. One shepherd and herdsman will suffice for a pasture-farm,

which, while under tillage, employed many hands. Corn has in the meantime

been made dearer in many places by the same cause. Wool, too, has risen in

price, owing to the rot amongst the sheep, and now the little clothmakers

are unable to supply themselves with it. For the sheep are falling into

few and powerful hands; and these, if they have not a _monopoly_, have at

least an _oligopoly_, and can keep up the price.

[Sidenote: On beer-houses, &c.]

‘Add to these causes the increasing luxury and extravagance of the upper

classes, and indeed of all classes--the tippling houses, taverns,

brothels, and other dens of iniquity, wine and beer houses, and places for

gambling. Do not all these, after rapidly exhausting the resources of

their devotees, educate them for crime?

[Sidenote: Practical remedies suggested.]

‘Let these pernicious plagues be rooted out. Enact that those who destroy

agricultural hamlets or towns should rebuild them, or give them up to

those who will do so. Restrain these engrossings of the rich, and the

license of exercising what is in fact a monopoly. Let fewer persons be

bred up in idleness. Let tillage farming be restored. Let the woollen

manufacture be introduced, so that honest employment may be found for

those whom want has already made into thieves, or who, being now vagabonds

or idle retainers, will become thieves ere long. Surely if you do not

remedy these evils, your rigorous execution of justice in punishing

thieves will be in vain, which indeed is more specious than either just or

efficacious. For verily if you allow your people to be badly educated,

their morals corrupted from childhood, and then, when they are men, punish

them for the very crimes to which they have been trained from childhood,

what is this, I ask, but first to make the thieves and then to punish

them?’[612]

Raphael then went on to show that, in his opinion, it was both a bad and a

mistaken policy to inflict the same punishment in the case of both theft

and murder, such a practice being sure to operate as an encouragement to

the thief to commit murder to cover his crime, and suggested that hard

labour on public works would be a better punishment for theft than

hanging.

[Sidenote: More’s connection with Henry VIII.]

After Raphael had given an amusing account of the way in which these

suggestions of his had been received at Cardinal Morton’s table, More

repeated his regret that his talents could not be turned to practical

account at some royal court, for the benefit of mankind. Thus the point of

the story was brought round again to the question whether Raphael should

or should not attach himself to some royal court--the question which Henry

VIII. was pressing upon More, and which he would have finally to settle,

in the course of a few months, one way or the other. It is obvious that,

in framing Raphael’s reply to this question, More intended to express his

own feelings, and to do so in such a way that if, after the publication of

the ‘Utopia,’ Henry VIII. were still to press him into his service, it

would be with a clear understanding of his strong disapproval of the

King’s most cherished schemes, as well as of many of those expedients

which would be likely to be suggested by courtiers as the best means of

tiding over the evils which must of necessity be entailed upon the country

by his persistence in them.

Raphael, in his reply, puts the supposition that the councillors were

proposing schemes of international intrigue, with a view to the

furtherance of the King’s desires for the ultimate extension of his

empire:--

[Sidenote: Evident reference to English politics and More’s position.]

What if Raphael were then to express his own judgment that this policy

should be entirely changed, the notion of extension of empire given up,

that the kingdom was already too great to be governed by one man, and that

the King had better not think of adding others to it? What if he were to

put the case of the ‘Achorians,’ neighbours of the Utopians, who some time

ago waged war to obtain possession of another kingdom to which their king

contended that he was entitled by descent through an ancient marriage

alliance [just as Henry VIII. had claimed France as ‘_his very true

patrimony and inheritance_’], but which people, after conquering the new

kingdom, found the trouble of keeping it a constant burden [just as

England was already finding Henry’s recent conquests in France], involving

the continuance of a standing army, the burden of taxes, the loss of their

property, the shedding of their blood for another’s glory, the destruction

of domestic peace, the corrupting of their morals by war, the nurture of

the lust of plunder and robbery, till murders became more and more

audacious, and the laws were treated with contempt? What if Raphael were

to suggest that the example of these Achorians should be followed, who

under such circumstances refused to be governed by half a king, and

insisted that their king should choose which of his two kingdoms he would

govern, and give up the other; how, Raphael was made to ask, would such

counsel be received?

And further: what if the question of ways and means were discussed for

the supply of the royal exchequer, and one were to propose tampering with

the currency; a second, the pretence of imminent war to justify war taxes,

and the proclamation of peace as soon as these were collected; a third,

the exaction of penalties under antiquated and obsolete laws which have

long been forgotten, and thus are often transgressed; a fourth, the

prohibition under great penalties of such things as are against public

interest, and then the granting of dispensations and licenses for large

sums of money; a fifth, the securing of the judges on the side of the

royal prerogative;--‘What if here again I were to rise’ [Raphael is made

to say] ‘and contend that all these counsels were dishonest and

pernicious, that not only the king’s honour, but also his safety, rests

more upon his people’s wealth than upon his own, who (I might go on to

show) choose a king for their own sake and not for his, viz. that by his

care and labour they might live happily and secure from danger; ... that

if a king should fall into such contempt or hatred of his people that he

cannot secure their loyalty without resort to threats, exactions, and

confiscations, and his people’s impoverishment, he had better abdicate his

throne, rather than attempt by these means to retain the name without the

glory of empire?... What if I were to advise him to put aside his sloth

and his pride, ... that he should live on his own revenue, that he should

accommodate his expenditure to his income, that he should restrain crime,

and by good laws prevent it, rather than allow it to increase and then

punish it, that he should repeal obsolete laws instead of attempting to

exact their penalties?... If I were to make such suggestions as these to

men strongly inclined to contrary views, would it not be telling idle

tales to the deaf?’[613]

Thus was Raphael made to use words which must have been understood by

Henry VIII. himself, when he read them, as intended to convey to a great

extent More’s own reasons for declining to accept the offer which Wolsey

had been commissioned to make to him.

The introductory story was then brought to a close by the conversation

being made again to turn upon the laws and customs of the Utopians, the

detailed particulars of which, at the urgent request of Giles and More,

Raphael agreed to give after the three had dined together. A woodcut in

the Basle edition, probably executed by Holbein, represents them sitting

on a bench in the garden behind the house, under the shade of the trees,

listening to Raphael’s discourse, of which the second book of the ‘Utopia’

proposed to give, as nearly as might be, a verbatim report.

[Sidenote: _Utopia_ published at Louvain.]

With this bold and honest introduction the ‘Utopia’ was published at

Louvain by Thierry Martins, with a woodcut prefixed, representing the

island of Utopia, and with an imaginary specimen of the Utopian language

and characters. It was in the hands of the public by the beginning of the

new year.[614]

Such was the remarkable political romance, which, from its literary

interest and merit, has been translated into almost every modern

language--a work which, viewed in its close relations to the history of

the times in which it was written, and the personal circumstances of its

author when he wrote it, derives still greater interest and importance,

inasmuch as it not only discloses the visions of hope and progress

floating before the eyes of the Oxford Reformers, but also embodies, as I

think I have been able to show, perhaps one of the boldest declarations of

a political creed ever uttered by an English statesman on the eve of his

entry into a king’s service.[615]