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CHAPTER XV.

THE TOWER.

FOUR days later the oath was again tendered, and refused, and More's term of remand having expired, he leaves the custody of Boston for a prison lodging in London's timeworn fortress, the Tower. He must have known full well the morning he left his home at Chelsea, never venturing to look back, that he was leaving it for ever, but strange yearning emotions must have filled his soul; as he left the abbot's custody and entered the boat; now steered in the direction of the city, instead of, as of old, to Chelsea, he now realized, for the first time, that he was a prisoner, and that home (such a home as his was too), for it comprised all that can constitute its charm, was gone from him for ever. Yes, all was gone now, for he was accompanied by Sir Richard Wingfield to the Tower of London; but he called his christian philosophy and resignation to his aid, and in this, the most trying moment in his life, More was composed and even cheerful.

And now the boat shoots swiftly under one of the arches of old London Bridge, and the ancient fortress, the walls of which could tell, if they could speak, such terrible tales of sin and wrong, frown down upon good Sir Thomas More.

In the direction of the Traitors' Gate the boat was steered. A wicket formed of heavy beams of massive oak was opened, only a step from thence to the block, he must have surely

thought. The dull splash of the water beating against the sides of the arch, the frowning fortress, the prospect of, perhaps, a life-long incarceration, or of a shorter imprisonment, to be ended by an ignominious death, must have struck terror into the hearts of all who have been doomed to pass beneath that gate; and in this wise More's thoughts must have run.

Before the usual form of delivering the warrant, and receiving an acknowledgment for the body of the prisoner, was gone through, Sir Richard, observing his gold chain around his neck, kindly advised him to send it home to his family.

"Nay," was his reply, "that will I not, for if my enemies take me on the field I should like them to have somewhat

for their pains." Indeed More was perfectly well aware that whether in his house at Chelsea, or in the Tower, all his personal effects would go; his home had already, according to the infamous custom of the times, been searched and ransacked by the King's officers, and it mattered nothing to him whether he was plundered there or where he now was.

As he landed at the Tower steps, the process of fleecing him, under the name of "garnish," was at once commenced by the porter demanding of him his outer garments as a perquisite.

"Marry, porter," said More, taking off his cap, "here it is, and I am sorry it is not a better one."

"No, no, sir, by your leave, it is your coat that I must have."

Without a word More submitted to be robbed, and following his conductors, ascended a narrow spiral staircase, lighted at intervals by small loopholes in the outer wall, and

which led to the prison lodging in which he was to be confined.

On entering his cell it was with a sigh of relief that he beheld on a small wooden table, beneath the grated loophole which served as a window, a writing desk, with pen, ink, and paper. It was removed later by the gaoler, but not until Sir Thomas had bequeathed to posterity some interesting letters and writings, all of which show us how entirely resigned he was to suffer persecution for justice sake. He was allowed the unusual privilege of an attendant, one John à Wood, an old servant of his own, who could neither read nor write, and who was sworn by the lieutenant that should he see or hear anything against the King he should declare it to him at once.

The use to which Sir Thomas applied his pen and ink was, without delay, to write the following letter to Margaret :

"April 17, 1534.

"My dearest Daughter,-When I was before the lords at Lambeth, I was the first called in; though Master Doctor, the vicar of Croydon, and several others, had come before me. After they had declared to me why I was sent for (at which I wondered), seeing there was no other secular man there but myself, I asked to see the oath, which they showed me under the great seal, as also the act of the succession, which was delivered me in a printed roll. I then read. them to myself, and considered the act with the oath, and showed them that my purpose was not to put any fault. in the act or he that made it, or in the oath or any man that swore it, nor to condemn any man's conscience; but, as for myself, my conscience so moved me, that though I

Q

would not deny to swear to the succession, yet to he oath I could not swear without jeopardy to my soul. And that if they doubted if I refused the oath for the grudge of my conscience or for any fancy, I was ready to satisfy them on my oath, which if they trusted not, what should hey be the better for giving me an oath; and if they trusted I would swear true, then I hoped they would not move me to swear the oath they offered me to swear, it being against my conscience. To this my Lord Chancellor* said, they were all very sorry to see me refuse the oath, saying, I was the very first who had refused it, which would cause the King's highness to conceive great suspicion and great indignation towards me; and then they showed me the roll, with the names of the lords and commons who had sworn and subscribed their names already. And seeing-I still refused to swear the same myself, not blaming any that had sworn, I was bid go down into the garden; but I tarried in the old chamber that looked into it, and would not go down on account of the heat. And then I saw Master Doctor Latimer come into the garden, walking about with various other doctors and chaplains of my lord of Canterbury; and very merry I saw he was, for he took one or two about the neck right handsomely. After that came Master Doctor Wilson forth from the lords; and he was with two gentlemen sent straight unto the Tower. What time my Lord of Rochester was called in before them I cannot tell; but at night I heard he had been before them; but where he remained until sent hither, I never heard. I heard also that Master Vicar of Croydon and the remainder of the priests of London that were sent for were sworn,

* Sir Thomas Audley.

and that they had such favour at the hands of the council that they were not detained and made to dance' attendance to their own cost, as suitors are sometimes wont to be; but were speedily dismissed. And that Master Vicar of Croydon, either for joy, or for thirst, or else that it might be seen quod ille notus erat pontifici,* went to my lord's buttery bar, called for drink, and drank valde familiariter.+

"As soon as they had played their pageant, and gone out of the place, I was called in again, and was told what a number had sworn since I had left, without any scruple, for which I blamed no man, answering only for myself as before. Then again they spoke of my obstinacy, that since I refused to swear, I would not declare any special part of the oath that pricked my conscience. And I told them that I feared the King's highness would, as they said, take displeasure enough only for refusing the oath; and if I should say why, I should but further exasperate him, and would rather abide all the harm that might come unto me than occasion his highness further displeasure than the offering of the oath to me constrained me of pure necessity. Then many times they imputed obstinacy to me, that I would neither swear nor say why I declined; and rather than I would be thus accounted, I said I would declare the cause in writing upon the King's gracious licence, or such commandment of his as might be my sufficient warrant that my declaration should not offend him, nor put me in danger of any of his statutes; and above that, I would give an oath in the beginning that if I might find those causes by any man answered as might satisfy my conscience, I would after swear the principal oath

* “That he was known to the chief priest.”

† Right jollily.