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Hen. Ha! This is somewhat.
Dig. So in her innocent heart I dipt
Hen. This is good news, sir John.
Dig. My daughter, sir,
Hen. No—no, think not of her,
She's pardoned. But the rest ? Advise, sir John.
Dig. Why sir, if they attempt and are opposed,
Hen. You're a good lieutenant,
Dig. The law, your grace
Hen. Aye. I have said. The law.
Dig. I merely said,
Hen. But I have clearer sight. No sword for me,
149.-CHARACTER OF HENRY WII.
This king, to speak of him in terms equal to his deserving, was one of the best sort of wonders—a wonder for wise men. He had parts both in his virtues and his fortune, not so fit for a common-place as for observation. Certainly he was religious, both in his affection and observance. But as he could see clear, for those times, through superstition, so he would be blinded, now and then, by human policy. He advanced churchmen ; he was tender in the privilege of sanctuaries, though they wrought him much mischief. He built and endowed many religious foundations, besides his memorable hospital of the Savoy; and yet was he a great alms-giver in secret, which showed that his works in public were dedicated rather to God's glory than his own. He professed always to love and seek peace; and it was his usual preface in his treatise, that when Christ came into the world peace was sung, and when he went out of the world peace was bequeathed. And this virtue could not proceed out of fear or softness, for he was valiant and active, and therefore no doubt it was truly Christian and moral. Yet he knew the way to peace was not to seem to be desirous to avoid war; therefore would he make offers and fames of wars till he had mended the conditions of peace. It was also much, that one that was so great a lover of peace should be so happy in war; for his arms, either in foreign or civil wars, were never infortunate: neither did he know what a disaster meant. The war of his coming in, and the rebellions of the Earl of Lincoln and the Lord Audley, were ended by victory; the wars of France and Scotland, by peaces sought at his hands; that of Britain by accident of the duke's death; the insurrection of the Lord Lovel, and that of Perkin at Exeter and in Kent, by flight of the rebels before they came to blows. So that his fortune of arms was still inviolate; the rather sure, for that in the quenching of the commotions of his subjects, he ever went in person; sometimes reserving himself to back and second his lieutenants, but ever in action ; and yet that was not merely forwardness, but partly distrust of others. He did much maintain and countenance his laws, which, nevertheless, was no impediment to him to work his will ; for it was so handled that neither prerogative nor profit went to diminution. And yet as he would sometimes strain up his laws to his prerogative, so he would also let down his prerogative to his parliament; for mint, and wars, and martial discipline, things of absolute power, he would nevertheless bring to parliament. Justice was well administered in his time, save where the king was party; save also that the council-table intermeddled too much with “meum” and “tuum.” For it was a very court of justice during his time, especially in the beginning; but in that part both of justice and policy which is the durable part, and cut, as it were, in brass or marble, which is the making of good laws, he did excel. And with his justice he was also a merciful prince; as in whose time there were but three of the nobility that suffered—the Earl of Warwick, the Lord Chamberlain, and the Lord Audley; though the first two were, instead of numbers, in the dislike and obloquy of the people. But there were never so great rebellions expiated with so little blood drawn by the hand of justice, as the two rebellions of Blackheath and Exeter. As for the severity used upon those which were taken in Kent, it was but a scum of people. His pardons went ever both before and after his sword. But then he had withala strange kind of interchanging of large and inexpected pardons with severe executions, which, his wisdom considered, could not be imputed to any inconstancy or inequality, but either to some reason which we do not now know, or to a principle he had set unto himself, that he would vary and try both ways in turn. But the less blood he drew, the more he took of treasure: and, as some construed it, he was the more sparing in the one that he might be the more pressing in the other, for both would have been intolerable. Of nature assuredly he coveted to accumulate treasure, and was a little poor in admiring riches. The people, into whom there is infused, for the preservation of monarchies, a natural desire to discharge their princes, though it be with the unjust charge of their counsellors and ministers, did impute this unto Cardinal Morton and Sir Reginald Bray, who, as it after appeared, as counsellors of ancient authority with him, did so second his humours, as nevertheless they did temper them. Whereas Empson and Dudley that followed being persons that had no reputation with him, otherwise than by the servile following of his bent, did not give way only as the first did, but shape him way to those extremities, for which himself was touched with remorse at his death, and which his successor renounced and sought to purge. This excess of his had at that time many glosses and inter
pretations. Some thought the continual rebellions wherewith he had been vexed had made him grow to hate his people; some thought it was done to pull down their stomachs, and to keep them low; some, for that he would leave his son a golden fleece ; some suspected he had some high design upon foreign parts; but those perhaps shall come nearest the truth that fetch not their reasons so far off, but rather impute it to nature, age, peace, and a mind fixed upon no other ambition or pursuit. Whereunto I should add, that having every day occasion to take notice of the necessities and shifts for money of other great princes abroad, it did the better, by comparison, set off to him the felicity of full coffers. As to his expending of treasure, he never spared charge which his affairs required; and in his buildings was magnificent ; but his rewards were very limited, so that his liberality was rather upon his own state and memory than upon the deserts of others. He was of an high mind, and loved his own will and his own way, as one that revered himself and would reign indeed. Had he been a private man he would have been termed proud ; but in a wise prince it was but keeping of distance, which indeed he did towards all, not admitting any near or full approach neither to his power or to his secrets, for he was governed by none. His queen, notwithstanding she had presented him with divers children, and with a crown also, though he would not acknowledge it, could do nothing with him. His mother he reverenced much, heard little ; for any person agreeable to him for society, such as was Hastings to King Edward the Fourth, or Charles Brandon after to King Henry the Eighth' he had none; except we should account for such persons as Fox, and Bray, and Empson, because they were so much with him. But it was but as the instrument is much with the workman. He had nothing in him of vain-glory, but yet kept state and majesty to the height; being sensible that majesty maketh the people bow, but vain-glory boweth to them. To his confederates abroad he was constant and just, but not open ; but rather such was his inquiry, and such his closeness, as they stood in the light towards him, and he stood in the dark to them. Yet without strangeness, but with a sem-' blance of mutual communication of affairs. As for little envies or emulations upon foreign princes, which are frequent with many kings, he never had many, but went substantially to his own business. Certain it is that though his reputation was great at home, yet it was greater abroad. For foreigners that could not see the passages of affairs, but made their judgments upon the issues of them, noted that he was ever in strife, and ever aloft. It grew also from the airs which the princes and states abroad received from their ambassadors and agents here, which were attending the court in great number, whom he did not only content with courtesy, reward, and privateness, but, upon such conferences as passed with them, put them in admiration to find his universal insight into the affairs of the world ; which, though he did suck chiefly from themselves, yet that which he had gathered from them all seemed admirable to every one, so that they did write ever to their superiors in high terms concerning his wisdom and art of rule; nay, when they were returned, they did commonly maintain intelligence with him: such a dexterity he had to impropriate to himself all foreign instruments. He was careful and liberal to obtain good intelligence from all parts abroad ; wherein he did not only use his interest in the liegers here, and his pensioner, which he had both in the court of Rome and other the courts of Christendom, but the industry and vigilancy of his own ambassadors in foreign parts: for which purpose his instructions were ever extreme, curious, and articulate; and in them morearticles touching inquisition than touching negotiation, requiring likewise from his ambassadors an answer in particular and distinct articles respectively to his questions, As for his secret spials, which he did employ both at home and abroad, by them
to discover what practices and conspiracies were against him, surely his case required it, he had such moles perpetually working and casting to undermine him. Neither can it be reprehended; for if spials be lawful against lawful enemies, much more against conspirators and traitors. But indeed to give them credence by oaths or curses, that cannot be well maintained: for those are too holy vestments for a disguise. Yet surely there was this further good in his employing of these flies and familiars; that as the use of them was cause that many conspiracies were revealed, so the fame and suspicion of them kept, no doubt, many conspiracies from being attempted. Towards his queen he was nothing uxorious, and scarce indulgent; but companionable and respective, and without jealousy. Towards his children he was full of paternal affection, careful of their education, aspiring to their high advancement, regular to see that they should not want of any due honour and respect, but not greatly willing to cast any popular lustre upon them. To his council he did refer much, and sat oft in person, knowing it to be the way to assist his power and inform his judgment. In which respect also he was fairly patient of liberty, both of advice and of vote, till himself were declared. He kept a strait hand on his nobility, and chose rather to advance clergymen and lawyers, which were more obsequious to him, but had less interest in the people, which made for his absoluteness but not for his safety; insomuch as, I am persuaded, it was one of the causes of his troublesome reign ; for that his nobles, though they were loyal and obedient, yet did not co-operate with him, but let every man go his own way. He was not afraid of an able man, as Lewis the Eleventh was ; but contrariwise, he was served by the ablest men that were to be found, without which his affairs could not have prospered as they did. For war, Bedford, Oxford, Surrey, D'Aubigny, Brooke, Poynings; for other affairs, Morton, Fox, Bray, the Prior of Lanthony, Warham, Urswick, Hussey, Frowick, and others. Neither did he care how cunning they were that he did employ, for he thought himself to have the master-reach. And as he chose well, so he held them up well; for it is a strange thing, that though he were a dark prince, and infinitely suspicious, and his times full of secret conspiracies and troubles, yet in twenty-four years' reign he never put down or discomposed counsellor, or near servant, save only Stanley, the lord chamberlain. As for the disposition of his subjects in general towards him, it stood thus with him ; that of the three affections which naturally tie the hearts of the subjects to their sovereigns, love, fear, and reverence, he had the last in height, the second in good measure, and so little of the first as he was beholden to the other two. He was a prince sad, serious, and full of thoughts and secret observations, and full of notes and memorials of his own hand, especially touching persons. As, whom to employ, whom to reward, whom to inquire of, whom to beware of what were the dependencies, what were the factions, and the like; keeping, as it were, a journal of his thoughts. There is to this day a merry tale, that his monkey, set on, as it was thought, by one of his chamber, tore his principal note-book all to pieces, when by chance it lay forth ; whereat the court, which liked not those pensive accounts, was almost tickled with sport. He was indeed full of apprehensions and suspicions, but as he did easily take them, so he did easily check them and master them, whereby they were not dangerous, but troubled himself more than others. It is true, his thoughts were so many, as they could not well always stand together; but that which did good one way, did hurt another : neither did he at some times weigh them aright in their proportions. Certainly, that rumour which did him so much mischief, that the Duke of York should be saved and alive, was, at the first, of his own nourishing,
because he would have more reason not to reign in right of his wife. He was affable and both well and fair spoken, and would use strange sweetness and blandishments of words where he desired to effect or persuade anything that he took to heart. He was rather studious than learned, reading most books that were of any worth in the French tongue; yet he understood the Latin, as appeareth in that Cardinal Hadrian and others, who could very well have written French, did use to write to him in Latin. For his pleasures, there is no news of them; and yet by his instructions to Marsin and Stile, touching the queen of Naples, it seemeth he could interrogate well touching beauty. He did by pleasures as great princes do by banquets, come and look a little upon them, and turn away. For never prince was more wholly given to his affairs, nor in them more of himself; insomuch as in triumphs of jousts, and tourneys, and balls, and masks, which they then called disguises, he was rather a princely and gentle spectator, than seemed much to be delighted. No doubt in him, as in all men, and most of all in kings, his fortune wrought upon his nature, and his nature upon his fortune. He attained to the crown not only from a private fortune, which might endow him with moderation, but also from the fortune of an exiled man, which had quickened in him all seeds of observation and industry. And his times, being rather prosperous than calm, had raised his confidence by success, but almost marred his nature by troubles. His wisdom, by often evading from perils, was turned rather into a dexterity to deliver himself from dangers, when they pressed him, than into a providence to prevent and remove them afar off. And even in nature, the sight of his mind was like some sights of eyes—rather strong at hand than to carry afar off; for his wit increased upon the occasion, and so much the more if the occasion were sharpened by danger. Again, whether it were the shortness of his foresight, or the strength of his will, or the dazzling of his suspicions, or what it was—certain it is, that the perpetual troubles of his fortunes, there being no more matter out of which they grew, could not have been without some great defects and main errors in his nature, customs, and proceedings, which he had enough to do to save and help with a thousand little industries and watches. But those do best appear in the story itself. Yet take him with all his defects, if a man should compare him with the kings his concurrents in France and Spain, he shall find him more politic than Lewis the Twelfth of France, and more entire and sincere than Ferdinando of Spain : but if you shall change Lewis the Twelfth for Lewis the Eleventh, who lived a little before, then the consort is more perfect; for that Lewis the Eleventh, Ferdinando, and Henry, may be esteemed for the “tres magi” of kings of those ages. To conclude, if this king did no greater matters, it was long of himself; for what he minded, he compassed. He was a comely personage, a little above just stature, well and straight-limbed, but slender. His countenance was reverend, and a little like a churchman ; and as it was not strange or dark, so neither was it winning or pleasing, but as the face of one well-disposed; but it was to the disadvantage of the painter, for it was best when he spake. His worth may bear a tale or two, that may put upon him somewhat that may seem divine. When the Lady Margaret, his mother, had divers great suitors for marriage, she dreamed one night that one in the likeness of a bishop, in pontifical habit, did tender her Edmund, Earl of Richmond, the king's father, for her husband; neither had she ever any child but the king, though she had three husbands. One day when King Henry the Sixth, whose innocency gave him holiness, was washing his hands at a great feast, and cast his eye upon King Henry, then a young youth, he said, “This is the lad that shall possess quietly that that we