CHAPTER FOUR

MORE'S FAME as a scholar was steadily growing. He was a hospitable man, and there was a steady traffic of learned guests to awe young Mistress Jane.

"In London there are five or six men," wrote Desiderius Erasmus to Servatius on the occasion of his second visit to that city, "who are accurate scholars in both tongues, such as I think even Italy itself does not at present possess."[1]

The celebrated Hollander was about twelve years older than More, and a friendship spontaneously and quickly developed between them. This association was to prove immensely stimulating and valuable to two men who were able in many respects and with like interests, yet differed widely in character and conscience. They were peers in scholarship and wit, and, with More and Machiavelli, Erasmus has been called a pioneer in political philosophy. Father Phillip Hughes agrees with Mesmard in declaring that as an influence in European life Erasmus won importance never achieved by any other writer, even Voltaire. Some writers have dubbed him "the Voltaire of the Renaissance," but in this they are mistaken, for Erasmus, while bitterly attacking a corrupt clergy was never, like the Frenchman, against the Church itself.

The circumstances which surrounded his birth and early life reflected his times and the need for that reform which employed the pen of both himself and More. He was the son of a priest, and while still a youth he had been thrust into a monastery without any true liking for the religious life.

Monastic discipline proved terribly irksome, and the confining walls of a Priory of the Augustinian Canons were a harsh restraint to the vocationless lad who yearned to travel and to enjoy the delights of secular scholarship and classical research. A wise superior made it possible for him to leave the cloister and, as a Latin secretary, to secure employment in the household of the Bishop of Cambrai. His literary skill and productivity soon won him fame and the patronage and esteem of the great. Unlike most of his contemporaries, he was aware of the true significance of the printing press and the tremendous changes it was to bring. He became the most important leader of German Humanism, and because of his ceaseless and savage attacks on existing ecclesiastical conditions he has been charged with being the intellectual father of the Reformation. But unlike Luther, he never broke with Rome. He watched the revolt with interest, but he was appalled by the bigotry and ferocious intolerance of its leaders. He was a prodigy, but, alas, the possession of genius has never been a guaranty against the weaknesses of egotism and vanity. He was brilliant and discerning and utterly devoid of that strength of character which was so markedly the property of More.

Holbein shows him long-nosed and thin-lipped, cadaverous, and somewhat bland in expression, bent with the stoop of a scholar. He had pale blue eyes and, as Lindsay in his famed book on the Reformation remarks, "the dainty hands, and general primness of his appearance" suggested descent "from a long line of maiden aunts." Unhappy in his own ill-bestowed priesthood and ever cynical of the practice of formalized religion in others, he never, in his long friendship with More, found anything to criticize in the life and habits of one who rigidly adhered to the practices of his staunch faith.

More and Erasmus met, so legend has it, in the great hall where the Lord Mayor of London was accustomed to preside over a lavish banqueting table. The conversation and company fitted well the generous hospitality, and in the repartee that was exchanged the two scholars discovered the measure of each other. "You must be More or no one," cried the delighted Hollander. "You must be Erasmus or the Devil," was the reply from the Englishman.

Their intellectual prowess brought the two friends into exalted company, and from Erasmus we learn of a historic meeting with the future Henry VIII. More came to meet Erasmus, who was a guest in Lord Mountjoy's country house. They walked as far as the next village. ". . . there all the Royal children were being educated, Arthur alone excepted, the eldest son. When we came to the Hall, all the retinue was assembled; not only that of the palace, but Mountjoy's as well. In the midst stood Henry, aged nine, and having already something of royalty in his demeanour; in which there was a certain dignity combined with singular courtesy. On his right was Margaret, about eleven years old, who afterwards married James, King of Scots; and on his left played Mary, a child of four. Edmund was an infant in arms. More with his companion Arnold, after paying his respects to the boy Henry, the same that is now King of England, presented him with some writing."[2] The golden-haired boy looked at the two scholars with respect. Favoured by God in every way this most princely of princes was, in a very few years, to court the services of both. He, too, was to be dazzled by wide and splendid prospects of the New Learning, and it was their friend Linacre who was to teach him a workable knowledge of Latin within the brief span of six weeks.

Many years of friendship and even the crucible of literary collaboration did not lessen Erasmus' admiration for More. In a famous letter to Ulrich von Hutten the Hollander's talent and affection moulded a striking eulogy of his friend which invariably is, as it should be, quoted whenever a full-length portrait of More is sought: "Most illustrious Hutten--your love, I had almost said your passion for the genius of Thomas More,--kindled as it is by his writings, which, as you truly say, are as learned and witty as anything can possibly be,--is, I assure you, shared by many others, and moreover the feeling in this case is mutual; since More is so delighted with what you have written, that I am myself almost jealous of you. It is an example of what Plato says of that sweetest wisdom, which excites much more ardent love among men than the most admirable beauty of form. It is not discerned by the eye of sense, but the mind has eyes of its own, so that even here the Greek saying holds true, that out of Looking grows Liking; and so it comes to pass that people are sometimes united in the warmest affection, who have never seen or spoken to each other. And, as it is a common experience, that for some unexplained reason different people are attracted by different kinds of beauty, so between one mind and another, there seems to be a sort of latent kindred, which causes us to be specially delighted with some minds, and not with others.

"As to your asking me to paint you a full-length portrait of More, I only wish my power of satisfying your request were equal to your earnestness in pressing it. For me, too, it will be no unpleasant task to linger a while in the contemplation of a friend, who is the most delightful character in the world. But, in the first place, it is not given to every man to be aware of all More's accomplishments; and in the next place, I know not whether he will himself like to have his portrait painted by any artist that chooses to do so. For indeed I do not think it more easy to make a likeness of More than of Alexander the Great or of Achilles; neither were those heroes more worthy of immortality. The hand of an Apelles is required for such a subject, and I am afraid I am more like a Fulvius or a Rutuba than an Apelles. Nevertheless I will try to draw you a sketch, rather than a portrait of the entire man, so far as daily and domestic intercourse has enabled me to observe his likeness and retain it in my memory. But if some diplomatic employment should ever bring you together, you will find out, how poor an artist you have chosen for this commission; and I am afraid you will think me guilty of envy or of willful blindness m taking note of so few out of the many good points of his character.

"To begin with that part of him which is least known to you--in shape and stature More is not a tall man, but not remarkably short, all his limbs being so symmetrical, that no deficiency is observed in this respect. His complexion is fair, being rather blonde than pale, but with no approach to redness, except a very delicate flush, which lights up the whole. His hair is auburn inclining to black, or if you like it better, black inclining to auburn; his beard thin, his eyes a bluish grey with some sort of tinting upon them. This kind of eye is thought to be a sign of the happiest character, and is regarded with favour in England, whereas with us black eyes are rather preferred. It is said, that no kind of eye is so free from defects of sight. His countenance answers to his character, having an expression of kind and friendly cheerfulness with a little air of raillery. To speak candidly, it is a face more expressive of pleasantry than of gravity or dignity, though very far removed from folly or buffoonery. His right shoulder seems a little higher than his left, especially when he is walking, a peculiarity that is not innate, but the result of habit, like many tricks of the kind. In the rest of his body there is nothing displeasing, only his hands are a little coarse, or appear so, as compared with the rest of his figure. He has always from his boyhood been very negligent of his toilet, so as not to give much attention even to the things which according to Ovid are all that men need care about. What a charm there was in his looks when young, may even now be inferred from what remains; although I knew him myself when he was not more than three-and-twenty years old, for he has not yet passed much beyond his fortieth year. His health is sound rather than robust, but sufficient for any labours suitable to an honourable citizen, and we may fairly hope that his life may be long, as he has a father living of a great age, but an age full of freshness and vigour.

"I have never seen any person less fastidious in his choice of food. As a young man, he was by preference a waterdrinker, a practice he derived from his father. But, not to give annoyance to others, he used at table to conceal this habit from his guests by drinking, out of a pewter vessel, either small beer almost as weak as water, or plain water. As to wine, it being the custom, where he was, for the company to invite each other to drink in turn of the same cup, he used sometimes to sip a little of it, to avoid appearing to shrink from it altogether, and to habituate himself to the common practice. For his eating he has been accustomed to prefer beef and salt meats, and household bread thoroughly fermented to those articles of diet which are commonly regarded as delicacies. But he does not shrink from things that impart an innocent pleasure, even of a bodily kind, and has always a good appetite for milk puddings and for fruit, and eats a dish of eggs with the greatest relish.

"His voice is neither loud nor excessively low, but of a penetrating tone. It has nothing in it melodious or soft, but is simply suitable for speech, as he does not seem to have any natural talent for singing, though he takes pleasure in music of every kind. His articulation is wonderfully distinct, being equally free from hurry and from hesitation.

"He likes to be dressed simply, and does not wear silk, or purple, or gold chains, except when it is not allowable to dispense with them. He cares marvellously little for those formalities which with ordinary people are the test of politeness, and as he does not exact these ceremonies from others, so he is not scrupulous in observing them himself, either on occasions of meeting or at entertaimnents, though he understands how to use them, if he thinks proper to do so; but he holds it to be effeminate and unworthy of a man to waste much of his time on such trifles. . .

"He seems to be born and made for friendship, of which he is the sincerest and most persistent devotee. Neither is he afraid of that multiplicity of friends, of which Hesiod disapproves. Accessible to every tender of intimacy, he is by no means fastidious m choosing his acquaintance, while he is most accommodating in keeping it on foot, and constant in retaining it. If he has fallen in with anyone whose faults he cannot cure, he finds some opportunity of parting with him, untying the knot of intimacy without tearing it; but when he has found any sincere friends, whose characters are suited to his own, he is so delighted with their society and conversation, that he seems to find in these the chief pleasure of life, having an absolute distaste for tennis and dice and cards, and the other games with which the mass of gentlemen beguile the tediousness of Time. It should be added that, while he is somewhat neglectful of his own interest, no one takes more pains in attending to the concerns of his friends. What more need I say? If anyone requires a perfect example of his true friendship, it is in More that he will best find it.

"In company his extraordinary kindness and sweetness of temper are such as to cheer the dullest spirit, and alleviate the annoyance--of the most trying circumstances. From boyhood he was always so pleased with a joke, that it might seem that jesting was the main object of his life; but with all that, he did not go so far as buffoonery, nor had ever any inclination to bitterness. When quite a youth, he wrote farces and acted them. If a thing was facetiously said, even though it was aimed at himself, he was charmed with it, so much did he enjoy any witticism that had a flavour of subtlety or genius. This led to his amusing himself as a young man with epigrams, and taking great delight in Lucian. Indeed, it was he that suggested my writing the Moriae, or Praise of Folly, which was much the same thing as setting a camel to dance.

"There is nothing that occurs in human life, from which he does not seek to extract some pleasure, although the matter may be serious in itself. If he has to do with the learned and intelligent, he is delighted with their cleverness, if with unlearned or stupid people, he finds amusement in their folly. He is not offended even by professed clowns, as he adapts himself with marvellous dexterity to the tastes of all, while with ladies generally and even with his wife, his conversation is made up of humour and playfulness. You would say it was a second Democritus, or rather that Pythagorean philosopher, who strolls in leisurely mood through the marketplace, contemplating the turmoil of those who buy or sell. There is no one less guided by the opinion of the multitude, but on the other hand no one sticks more closely to common sense.

"One of his amusements is in observing the forms, characters and instincts of different animals. Accordingly, there is scarcely any kind of bird that he does not keep about his residence, and the same of other animals not quite so common, as monkeys, foxes, ferrets, weasels, and the like. Besides these, if he meets with any strange object, imported from abroad or otherwise remarkable, he is most eager to buy it, and has his house so well supplied with these objects, that there is something in every room which catches your eye, as you enter it, and his own pleasure is renewed every fame that he sees others interested. . .

"His house seems to have a sort of fatal felicity, no one having lived in it without being advanced to higher fortune, no inmate having ever had a stain upon his character.

"It would be difficult to find anyone living on such terms with a mother as he does with his stepmother. For his father had brought in one stepmother after another; and he has been as affectionate with each of them as with a mother. He has lately introduced a third, and More swears that he never saw anything better. His affection for his parents, children and sisters is such, that he neither wearies them with his love, nor ever fails in any kind attention.

"His character is entirely free from any touch of avarice. He has set aside out of his property what he thinks sufficient for his children, and spends the rest in a liberal fashion. When he was still dependent on his profession, he gave every client true and friendly counsel, with an eye to their advantage rather than his own, generally advising them, that the cheapest thing they could do was to come to terms with their opponents. If he could not persuade them to do this, he pointed out how they might go to law at least expense; for there are some people whose character leads them to delight in litigation....

"It has always been part of his character to be most obliging to everybody, and marvellously ready with his sympathy, and this disposition is more conspicuous than ever, now that his power of doing good is greater. Some he relieves with money, some he protects by his authority, some he promotes by his recommendation, while those whom he cannot otherwise assist are benefited by his advice. No one is sent away in distress, and you might call him the general patron of all poor people. He counts it a great gain to himself, if he has relieved some oppressed person, made the path clear for one that was in difficulties, or brought back into favour one that was in disgrace. No man more readily confers a benefit, no man expects less in return. And successful as he is in so many ways-while success is generally accompanied by self-conceit, I have never seen any mortal being more free from this failing.

"I now propose to turn to the subject of those studies which have been the chief means of bringing More and me together. In his first youth his principal literary exercises were in verse. He afterwards wrestled for a long time to make his prose more smooth; practicing his pen in every kind of writing in order to form that style, the character of which there is no occasion for me to recall, especially to you, who have his books always in your hands. He took the greatest pleasure in declamations, choosing some disputable subject, as involving a keener exercise of mind. Hence, while still a youth, he attempted a dialogue, in which he carried the defence of Plato's community even to the matter of wives! He wrote in answer to Lucian's Tyrannicide, in which argument it was his wish to have me for a rival, in order to test his own proficiency in this kind of writing.

"He published his Utopia for the purpose of showing what are the things that occasion mischief in commonwealths; having the English constitution especially in view, which he so thoroughly knows and understands. He had written the second book at his leisure, and afterwards, when he found it was required, added the first off-hand. Hence there is some inequality in the style.

"It would be difficult to find anyone more successful in speaking ex tempore, the happiest thoughts being attended by the happiest language; while a mind that catches and anticipates all that passes, and a ready memory, having everything as it were in stock, promptly supply whatever the time, or the occasion, demands. In disputations nothing can be imagined more acute, so that the most eminent theologians often find their match, when he meets them on their own ground. Hence John Colet, a man of keen and exact judgment, is wont to say in familiar conversation, that England has only one genius, whereas that island abounds in distinguished intellects.

"However averse he may be from all superstition, he is a steady adherent of true piety; having regular hours for his prayers, which are not uttered by rote, but from the heart. He talks with his friends about a future life in such a way as to make you feel that he believes what he says, and does not speak without the best hope. Such is More, even at Court; and there are still people who think that Christians are only to be found in monasteries!"[3]

The Story of Thomas More, by John Farrow

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