the villages; wherefore many of the mean people loved him, and such as intended to no goodness said how he said truth; and so they would murmur one with another in the fields and in the ways as they went together, affirming how John Ball said truth. THE BURIAL OF RICHARD II they differ, yet they be true. I was in the city of Bordeaux and sitting at the table when king Richard was born, the which was on a Tuesday about ten of the clock. The same time 5 there came thereas I was, Sir Richard Pontchardon, marshal as then of Acquitaine, and he said to me: "Froissart, write and put in memory that as now my lady princess is brought abed with a fair son on this Twelfth day, that is the 10 day of the three kings, and he is son to a king's son and shall be a king." This gentle knight said truth, for he was king of England twentytwo year; but when this knight said these words, he knew full little what should be his It was not long after that true tidings ran through London, how Richard of Bordeaux1 was dead; but how he died and by what means, I could not tell when I wrote this chronicle. But this King Richard dead was laid in a litter and set in a chare2 covered with black baudkin, and four horses all black in the 15 conclusion. And the same time that king chare, and two men in black leading the chare, and four knights all in black following. Thus the chare departed from the Tower of London and was brought along through London fair and softly, till they came into Cheapside, 20 whereas the chief assembly of London was, and there the chare rested the space of two hours. Thither came in and out more than twenty thousand persons men and women, to see him whereas he lay, his head on a black cushion, 25 the queen were come thither to take leave of Richard was born, his father the prince was in Galice, the which king Don Peter had given him, and he was there to conquer the realm. Upon these things I have greatly imagined sith; for the first year that I came into England into the service of queen Philippa, king Edward and the queen and all their children were as then at Berkhamstead, a manor of the prince of Wales beyond London. The king and and his visage open. Some had on him pity their son the prince and princess, who were and some none, but said he had long deserved going into Acquitaine, and there I heard an death. Now consider well, ye great lords, ancient knight devise among the ladies and kings, dukes, earls, barons and prelates, and all said: "There is a book which is called le Brut, men of great lineage and puissance; see and 30 and it deviseth that the prince of Wales, eldest behold how the fortunes of this world are son to the king, nor the duke of Gloucester, marvellous and turn diversely. This king should never be king of England, but the realm Richard reigned king of England twenty two and crown should return to the house of year in great prosperity, holding great estate Lancaster." There I, John Froissart, author of and seignory. There was never before any 35 this chronicle, considering all these things, king of England that spent so much in his house I say these two knights, Sir Richard Pontas he did, by a hundred thousand florins every chardon and Sir Bartholomew of Burghersh, year; for I, Sir John Froissart, canon and said both truth; for I saw, and so did all the treasurer of Chimay, knew it well, for I was in world, Richard of Bordeaux twenty two year his court more than a quarter of a year together, 40 king of England, and after the crown returned and he made me good cheer, because that in to the house of Lancaster, and that was when my youth I was clerk and servant to the noble King Henry was king, the which he had never king Edward III, his grandfather, and with my been if Richard of Bordeaux had dealt amiably lady Philippa of Hainault, queen of England his with him; for the Londoners made him king grandam; and when I departed from him, it 45 because they had pity on him and on his was at Windsor, and at my departing the king sent me by a knight of his called Sir John Golofre a goblet of silver and gilt weighing two mark of silver, and within it a hundred nobles, children. Sir Thomas More 1478-1535 RICHARD FOR THEIR KING by the which I am as yet the better, and shall 50 THE PEOPLE ARE URGED TO CHOOSE be as long as I live; wherefore I am bound to pray to God for his soul, and with much sorrow I write of his death; but because I have continued this history, therefore I write thereof to follow it. (From History of Richard III, written c. 1513) When the Duke had said, and looked that 55 the people whom he hoped that the Mayor In my time I have seen two things: though had framed1 before, should after this flattering proposition made, have cried King Richard, King Richard, all was still and mute, and not one word answered thereunto. Wherewith the Duke was marvellously abashed, and taking the Mayor nearer to him, with other that were about him privy to that matter, said unto them softly; "What meaneth this, that the people be so still?" "Sir," quoth the Mayor, "parcase they perceive you not well." "That shall we amend," quoth he, "if that will help." And by and by somewhat louder, he rehearsed 10 them the same matter again in other order and other words, so well and ornately, and natheles so evidently and plain, with voice, gesture, and countenance so comely and convenient, that every man much marvelled that heard him, and 15 their heads marvelling thereat, but nothing the nobles of the realm be, to have this noble Prince, now Protector, to be your King." At these words the people began to whisper among themselves secretly, that the voice was neither 5 loud nor distinct, but as it were the sound of a swarm of bees, till at the last at the nether end of the hall, a bushment' of the Duke's servants and one Nashfield, and others longings to the Protector, with some prentices and lads that thrust into the hall among the press, began suddenly at men's backs to cry out as loud as their throats would give: King Richard, King Richard, and threw up their caps in token of joy. And they that stood before, cast back they said. And when the Duke and the mayor saw this manner, they wisely turned it to their purpose. And said it was a goodly cry and a joyful, to hear every man with one voice, and thought that they never had in their lives heard before, but all were as still as the midnight, not All the time in the same manner. • Whispered. quoth the Duke, “since we perceive that it is your whole minds to have this nobleman for your King, whereof we shall make his Grace so effectual report, that we doubt not but it shall redound unto your great weal and commonality. We therefore require you that tomorrow ye go with us, and we with you, unto his noble Grace, to make your humble request unto him in manner before remembered." And therefore with, 10 the lords came down, and the company dissolved and departed, the most part all sad, some with glad semblance that were not very merry, and some of those that came hither with the Duke, not able to dissemble their sorrow, were fain, at his back, to turn their face to the wall, while the dolour of their hearts burst out of their eyes. UTOPIA AND EUROPE CONTRASTED (From Utopia, 1516, Ralph Robinson's transla tion, second and revised ed. 1556) Now I have declared and described unto you, as truly as I could, the form and order of that Commonwealth, which verily in my judgment is not only the best, but also that which alone of good right may claim and take upon it the name of a common wealth, or public weal. 7 A body of men in hiding, or in ambush. 8 Belonging. • Advantage. 10 Forthwith; thereupon. 1 The speaker is a fictitious character, one Raphael Hythloday, whom More introduces in the early part of the narrative as a Portuguese scholar and explorer. Hythloday is supposed to have visited Utopia in the course of his travels, and he is represented as relating his impressions of the strange land to More. The greater part of More's book consists of Hythloday's narrative. and his reflections on the Utopian Commonwealth. 2 Weal, primarily wealth, riches, and hence prosperity, success. much pleasanter, taking no thought in the mean season for the time to come. But these seely poor wretches be presently tormented with barren and unfruitful labour. And the 5 remembrance of their poor, indigent, and beggarly old age, killeth them up. For their daily wages is so little, that it will not suffice for the same day, much less it yieldeth any overplus, that may daily be laid up for the relief of public weal, which giveth great fees and rewards to gentlemen, as they call them, and to goldsmiths, and to such other, which be either idle persons, or else only flatterers, and de part, maketh no gentle provision for poor plowmen, colliers, labourers, carters, ironsmiths, and carpenters; without whom no Commonwealth can continue? But after it An 20 hath abused the labourers of their lusty and flowering age, at the last, when they be oppressed with old age and sickness,-being needy, poor, and indigent of all things, then forgetting their so many painful watchings, not remembering their so many and so great benefits, recompenseth and aquitteth them most unkindly with miserable death. And yet, besides this, the rich men, not only by private fraud, but also by common laws, do every day pluck and snatch away from the poor some part of their daily living. So, whereas it seemed before unjust to recompense with unkindness their pains that have been beneficial to the public weal, now they have to 25 For in other places they speak still of the Commonwealth, but every man procureth his own private gain. Here, where nothing is private, the common affairs be earnestly looked upon. And truly on both parts they have good cause so to do as they do. For in other countries who knoweth not that he shall starve for hunger, unless he make some several3 provision for himself, though the Commonwealth flourish never so much in riches? And 10 old age. Is not this an unjust and unkind therefore he is compelled, even of very necessity, to have regard to himself, rather than to the people, that is to say, to others. Contrarywise there, where all things be common to every man, it is not to be doubted that any 15 visers of vain pleasures; and of the contrary man shall lack anything necessary for his private uses; so that the common store-houses and barns be sufficiently stored. For there nothing is distributed after a niggish sort,^ neither is there any poor man or beggar. though no man have anything, yet every man is rich. For what can be more rich than to live joyfully and merrily, without all grief and pensiveness: not caring for his own living, nor vexed or troubled with his wife's importunate complaints, nor dreading poverty to his son, nor sorrowing for his daughter's dowry? Yea, they take no care at all for the living and wealth of themselves and all theirs, of their wives, their children, their nephews, their children's chil- 30 dren, and all the succession that ever shall follow in their posterity. And yet, besides this, there is no less provision for them that were once labourers, and be now weak and impotent, than for them that do now labour and take 35 this their wrong and unjust dealing (which is pain. Here now would I see if any man dare be so bold as to compare with this equity, the justice of other nations; among whom, I forsake God, if I can find any sign or token of equity and justice. For what justice is this, that a rich goldsmith, or an usurer, or, to be short, any of them which either do nothing at all, or else that which they do is such that it is not very necessary to the commonwealth, should have a pleasant and a wealthy living, either by 45 idleness, or by unnecessary business; when in the meantime poor labourers, carters, ironsmiths, carpenters, and plowmen, by so great and continual toil, as drawing and bearing beasts be scant able to sustain, and again so 50 to be kept and observed under colour of the necessary toil, that without it no commonwealth were able to continue and endure one year, should yet get so hard and poor a living, and live so wretched and miserable a life, that the state and condition of the labouring beasts 55 may seem much better and wealthier? For they be not put to so continual labour, nor their living is not much worse, yea to them Separate, personal. Niggardly fashion. 40 yet a much worse point) given the name of justice, yea, and that by force of a law. Therefore, when I consider and weigh in my mind all these Commonwealths, which nowadays anywhere do flourish, so God help me, I can perceive nothing but a certain conspiracy of rich men procuring their own commodities under the name and title of the Commonwealth. They invent and devise all means and crafts, first how to keep safely, without fear of losing, that they have unjustly gathered together, and next how to hire and abuse the work and labour of the poor for as little money as may be. These devices, when the rich men have decreed (them) commonalty, that is to say, also of the poor people, then they be made laws. But these most wicked and vicious men, when they have by their unsatiable covetessness divided among themselves all those things, which would have Happy; innocent; simple. Suitable; adequate. (See Cent. Dict. genteel.) 7 Repays; requites. 8 Under the pretense that they are for the benefit of the common people. This sufficed all men, yet how far be they from the wealth and felicity of the Utopian Commonwealth? Out of the which, in that all the desire of money with the use thereof is utterly secluded and banished, how great a heap of cares is cut away! How great an occasion of wickedness and mischief is plucked up by the roots! For who knoweth not, that fraud, theft, rapine, brawling, quarrelling, brabbling, strife, chiding, contention, murder, treason, poison- 10 ing, which by daily punishments are rather revenged than refrained, do die when money dieth? And also that fear, grief, care, labours, and watchings do perish even the very same moment that money perisheth? Yea, poverty 15 forever. For, seeing the chief causes of ambi poverty she might vex, torment, and increase, by gorgeously setting forth her riches. hell hound creepeth into men's hearts; and plucketh them back from entering the right 5 path of life, and is so deeply rooted in men's breasts, that she cannot be plucked out. 10 This form and fashion of a weal public, which I would gladly wish unto all nations, I am glad yet that it hath chanced to the Utopians, which have followed those institutions of life, whereby they have laid such foundations of their Commonwealth, as shall continue and last not only wealthily, but also as far as man's wit may judge and conjecture, shall endure tion and sedition with other vices be plucked up by the roots and abandoned at home, there can be no jeopardy of domestical dissension, which alone hath cast under foot and brought defenced wealth and riches of many cities. But forasmuch as perfect concord remaineth, and wholesome laws be executed at home, the envy of all foreign princes be not able to shake or move the Empire, though they have many times long ago gone about to do it, being evermore driven back. itself, which only seemed to lack money, if money were gone, it also would decrease and vanish away. And that you may perceive this more plainly, consider with yourselves some barren and unfruitful year, wherein many 20 to nought the well-fortified and strongly thousands of people have starved for hunger: I dare be bold to say, that in the end of that penury so much corn or grain might have been found in the rich men's barns, if they had been searched, as being divided among them whom 25 famine and pestilence then consumed, no man at all should have felt that plague and penury. So easily might men get their living, if that same worthy Princess, Lady Money, did not alone stop up the way between us and our 30 living, which, a God's name, was very excellently devised and invented, that by her the way thereto should be opened. I am sure the rich men perceive this, nor they be not too ignorant how much better it were to lack no 35 necessary thing, than to abound with overmuch superfluity; to be rid out11 of innumerable cares and troubles, than to be besieged and encumbered with great riches. And I doubt not that either the respect of every man's 40 private commodity, or else the authority of our Saviour Christ (which for his great wisdom could not but know what were best, and for his inestimable goodness could not but counsel to that which he knew to be best) would have 45 brought all the world long ago into the laws of this weal public, if it were not that one only beast, the princess and mother of all mischief, Pride, doth withstand and let12 it. She measureth not wealth and prosperity by her own 50 commodities, but by the miseries and incommodities of others; she would not by her good will be made a goddess, if there were no wretches left, over whom she might like a scornful lady rule and triumph; over whose 55 miseries her felicities might shine; whose • Wrangling. 10 In God's name. Cf. Taming of the Shrew, I, 2, 195. Thus when Raphael13 had made an end of his tale, though many things came to my mind, which in the manners and laws of that people seemed to be instituted and founded of no good reason, not only in the fashion of their chivalry, and in their sacrifices and religions, and in other of their laws, but also, yea, and chiefly, in that which is the principal foundation of all their ordinances, that is to say, in the community of their life and living, without any occupying1 of money, by the which things only are nobility, magnificence, worship, honour, and majesty, the true ornaments and honours, as the common opinion is, of a Commonwealth, utterly be overthrown and destroyed: yet because I knew he was weary of talking, and was not sure whether he could abide that anything should be said against his mind, especially remembering that he had reprehended this fault in others, which be afeard lest they should seem not to be wise enough unless they could find some fault in other men's inventions; therefore I, praising both their institutions and his communication, took him by the hand, and led him in to supper; saying that we would choose another time to weigh and examine the same matters, and to talk with him more at large therein. Which would God it might once come to pass. In the mean time, as I cannot agree and consent to all things that he said,being else without doubt a man singularly 13 Raphael Hythloday. 14 Holding; using. well learned, and also in all worldly matters exactly and profoundly experienced,―so must I needs confess and grant that many things be in the Utopian weal public, which in our cities I may rather wish for than hope after. Thus endeth the afternoon's talk of Raphael Hythloday concerning the laws and institutions of the Island of Utopia. William Roper 1496-1578 THE EXECUTION OF SIR THOMAS (From Life of Sir Thomas More, first printed, 1626) seen, to my wife, his dearly beloved daughter, and a letter written with a coal, contained in the aforesaid book of his works, plainly expressing the fervent desire he had to suffer 5 on the morrow, in these words: "I cumber you, good Margaret, much, but would be sorry if it should be longer than tomorrow. For tomorrow is St. Thomas' even, and the Utas2 of St. Peter, and therefore tomorrow I long to 10 go to God, it were a day very meet and convenient for me. Dear Megg, I never liked your manner better towards me than when you kissed me last. For I like when daughterly love and dear charity hath no leisure to look to 15 worldly courtesy." And so upon the next morrow, being Tuesday, St. Thomas his even, and the Utas of St. Peter, in the year of our Lord 1535, according as he in his letter the day before had wished, early in the morning came friend, on message from the King and his Council, that he should before nine of the clock of the same morning suffer death; and that therefore he should forthwith prepare himself thereto. "Master Pope," saith he, "for your good tidings I heartily thank you. I have been always much bounden to the King's Highness for the benefits and honours that he hath still from time to time most bountifull heaped upon When Sir Thomas More came from West- 20 to him Sir Thomas Pope, his singular good minster to the Tower-ward1 again, his daughter, my wife, desirous to see her father, whom she thought she would never see in this world after, and also to have his final blessing, gave attendance about the Tower Wharf, where she knew 25 he should pass by, before he could enter into the Tower. Where tarrying his coming as soon as she saw him, after his blessing upon her knees reverently received, she, hasting towards him, without consideration or care of 30 me, and yet more bounden am I to His Grace for putting me into this place, where I have had convenient time and space to have remembrance of my end. And so help me God, most of all, Master Pope, am I bounden to his herself, pressing in amongst the midst of the throng and company of the guard, that with halberds and bills were round about him, hastily ran to him, and there openly in sight of them all embraced him and took him about the 35 Highness, that it pleaseth him so shortly to neck and kissed him. Who well liking her most natural and dear daughterly affection towards him, gave her his fatherly blessing, and many godly words of comfort besides. From whom after she was departed, she not satisfied with 40 the former sight of her dear father, and like one that had forgotten herself, being all ravished with the entire love of her dear father, having respect neither to herself, nor to the press of people and multitude that were about 45 him, suddenly turned back again, and ran to him as before, took him about the neck, and divers times kissed him most lovingly; and at last with a full heavy heart, was fain to depart from him; the beholding whereof was to many 50 of them that were present thereat so lamentable that it made them for very sorrow thereof to weep and mourn. So remained Sir Thomas More in the Tower, more than a seven-night after his judgment. 55 From whence the day before he suffered, he sent his shirt of hair, not willing to have it 1 More had been tried and condemned in Westminster Hall, after which he was taken back to the Tower. rid me out of the miseries of this wretched world, and therefore will I not fail earnestly to pray for his Grace, both here, and also in the world to come." "The King's pleasure is further," quoth Master Pope, "that at your execution you shall not use many words." "Master Pope" quoth he, "you do well to give me warning of his Grace's pleasure, for otherwise, at that time had I purposed somewhat to have spoken; but of no matter wherewith his Grace or any other should have had cause to be offended. Nevertheless, whatsoever I had intended I am ready obediently to conform myself to his Grace's commandment; and I beseech you, good Master Pope, to be a mean to his Highness, that my daughter Margaret may be at my burial." "The King is content already," quoth Master Pope, "that your wife, children, and other friends shall have liberty to be present thereat." "O how much beholden then," said Sir Thomas More, "am I unto his Grace, that unto my poor burial vouchsafeth ? The eighth day after St. Peter's day, i. e., the 6th of July. |