Chapter XII (1)

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.]