“And how can you want matter of writing to me, who am delighted to hear either of your studies or your play, whom you may then exceedingly please when,
having nothing to write of, you write as largely as you can of that nothing, than which nothing is more easy for you to do, especially being women, and therefore prattlers by nature, amongst whom a great story riseth out of nothing.” He then advises them to be careless in nothing, but to bestow conscientious pains on all their performances. The homelife of Sir Thomas affords us the best glimpse of the true character of this great man, and lends a new and sad significance to the scene which occurred between his heart-broken daughter and himself, as he tottered, haggard and emaciated, to the block. He loved his home as the pupil of his eye, and sighed for it when duty called him away. With even such a shrew as his second wife he contrived to make his a model household, where refinement, piety, and cheerfulness ever reigned. Smart retort and repartee, brilliant things and witty sayings, were the salt which lent savor to many a pious reflection and devout allusion while the family shared their daily meals. Thus did Sir Thomas, by being a devout Catholic and a lover of learning, convert a possible home of bickering and discontent into one which nurtured peace, contentment, happiness, and hope.
Unless we pause to study Sir Thomas More in his home at Chelsea, we will fail to discern the peerless knight, the virtuous man, the lover of religion, the sententious philosopher (all which he was), amid the grime and lustful air of Henry’s court,
“Where the individual withers, and the world is more and more.”
Next to Sir Thomas as father, friend, and husband, the reader loves to view him in his exalted capacity of chancellor. From him indeed, the title has acquired its synonymous meaning with unblemished integrity and purity immaculate; for throughout his whole political career he never recognized friend or foe as such; he treated all alike with unswerving impartiality. And in pursuing this course he obtained the reward which he especially desired: the testimony of a good conscience. He felt that, though “there are innumerable hopes to innumerable men, he is happy who is happy day by day”; and this is just the sort of happiness which is born of a good conscience. His decisions bore the mark of his sterling sense and unyielding will, and
though many exceptions had been taken to his renderings by those whose interests he countered, not a single reversal could be obtained, while others degraded their high offices and stooped to pander to the lustful instincts of the king. More studied to grace the chancellor’s gown by the practice of every virtue pertaining to the dignity of his position, and shone forth more brilliantly by contrast with the pliant tools of Henry.
“Velut inter ignes
Luna minores.”
The speech which he delivered on the occasion of his investiture will ever remain a model of dignity and modesty. While deprecating the praise bestowed on him by the Duke of Norfolk, he failed not to express his just appreciation of the high and important trust to which he had been called, and this in language so fitting and graceful that his admirers likened him to Cicero.
Miss Stewart, who but a short time ago gave to the world a charming novelette with the title of the Chancellor and his Daughter, addressed herself to the task of compiling these memoirs with laudable enthusiasm, such, indeed, as no one acquainted with the subject could fail to experience. Here is a hero-worship of the right sort, growing out of the virtues and learning of her idol, and so far not to be reckoned with Macaulay’s stupid admiration of William III. or Carlyle’s still more fatuous veneration for Frederick of Prussia. She has earned a new title to the esteem in which she is held in England. The book contains an admirable autotype fac-simile of the celebrated picture of the meeting between the chancellor and his daughter.