No More Learning

If the archbishop was ready for death, they were not. The door
from the hall into the court was closed and barred, and a short
respite was thus secured. The intention of the knights, it may
be presumed, was to seize the archbishop and carry him off to
Saltwood or to De Morville's castle at Knaresborough, or perhaps
to Normandy. Coming back to execute their purpose, they found
themselves stopped by the hall door. To burst it open would
require time; the ante-room between the hall and the archbish-
op's apartments opened by an oriel window and an outside stair
into a garden. Robert de Broc, who knew the house well, led
the way to it in the dark. The steps were broken, but a ladder
was standing against the window, by which the knights mounted,
and the crash of the falling casement told the fluttered group
about the archbishop that their enemies were upon them. There
was still a moment. The party who entered by the window, in-
stead of turning into the archbishop's room, first went into the
hall to open the door and admit their comrades. From the arch-
bishop's room a second passage, little used, opened into the
northwest corner of the cloister, and from the cloister there was
a way into the north transept of the cathedral. The cry was
"To the church! To the church! " There at least there would
be immediate safety.


## p. 6080 (#50) ############################################

6080
JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
The archbishop had told the knights that they would find him.
where they left him. He did not choose to show fear; or he
was afraid, as some thought, of losing his martyrdom. He would
not move. The bell had ceased. They reminded him that ves-
pers had begun, and that he ought to be in the cathedral. Half
yielding, half resisting, his friends swept him down the passage
into the cloister. His cross had been forgotten in the haste. He
refused to stir till it was fetched and carried before him as usual.
Then only, himself incapable of fear, and rebuking the terror of
the rest, he advanced deliberately to the door into the south
transept. His train was scattered behind him, all along the
cloister from the passage leading out of the palace. As he en-
tered the church, cries were heard, from which it became plain
that the knights had broken into the archbishop's room, had
found the passage, and were following him. Almost immediately
Fitzurse, Tracy, De Morville, and Le Breton were discerned in
the dim light, coming through the cloister in their armor, with
drawn swords, and axes in their left hands. A company of
men-at-arms was behind them. In front they were driving be-
fore them a frightened flock of monks.
From the middle of the transept in which the archbishop was
standing, a single pillar rose into the roof. On the eastern side
of it opened a chapel of St. Benedict, in which were the tombs
of several of the old primates. On the west, running of course
parallel to the nave, was a Lady chapel. Behind the pillar, steps
led up into the choir, where voices were already singing vespers.
A faint light may have been reflected into the transept from the
choir tapers, and candles may perhaps have been burning before
the altars in the two chapels; of light from without through the
windows at that hour there could have been none. Seeing the
knights coming on, the clergy who had entered with the arch-
bishop closed the door and barred it. "What do you fear? " he
cried in a clear, loud voice. "Out of the way, you coward! the
Church of God must not be made a fortress. " He stepped back
and reopened the door with his own hands, to let in the trem-
bling wretches who had been shut out among the wolves. They
rushed past him, and scattered in the hiding-places of the vast
sanctuary, in the crypt, in the galleries, or behind the tombs.
All, or almost all, even of his closest friends,— William of Can-
terbury, Benedict, John of Salisbury himself,- forsook him to
shift for themselves, admitting frankly that they were unworthy


## p. 6081 (#51) ############################################

JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
6081
of martyrdom. The archbishop was left alone with his chaplain
Fitzstephen, Robert of Merton his old master, and Edward Grim,
the stranger from Cambridge,- or perhaps with Grim only, who
says that he was the only one who stayed, and was the only one
certainly who showed any sign of courage. A cry had been
raised in the choir that armed men were breaking into the
cathedral. The vespers ceased; the few monks assembled left
their seats and rushed to the edge of the transept, looking
wildly into the darkness.
The archbishop was on the fourth step beyond the central
pillar ascending into the choir, when the knights came in. The
outline of his figure may have been just visible to them, if light
fell upon it from candles in the Lady chapel. Fitzurse passed to
the right of the pillar, De Morville, Tracy, and Le Breton to
the left. Robert de Broc, and Hugh Mauclerc, another apostate
priest, remained at the door by which they entered. A voice
cried, "Where is the traitor? Where is Thomas Becket? " There
was silence; such a name could not be acknowledged. "Where
is the archbishop? " Fitzurse shouted. "I am here," the arch-
bishop replied, descending the steps, and meeting the knights full
in the face. "What do you want with me? I am not afraid of
your swords. I will not do what is unjust. " The knights closed
round him. "Absolve the persons whom you have excommuni-
cated," they said, "and take off the suspensions. " They have
made no satisfaction," he answered; "I will not. "
«Then you
shall die as you have deserved," they said.
They had not meant to kill him- certainly not at that time
and in that place. One of them touched him on the shoulder
with the flat of his sword, and hissed in his ears, "Fly, or you
are a dead man. " There was still time; with a few steps he
would have been lost in the gloom of the cathedral, and could
have concealed him in any one of a hundred hiding-places. But
he was careless of life, and he felt that his time was come. "I
am ready to die," he said. "May the Church through my blood
obtain peace and liberty! I charge you in the name of God that
you hurt no one here but me. "
The people from the town were now pouring into the cathe-
dral; De Morville was keeping them back with difficulty at the
head of the steps from the choir, and there was danger of a res-
cue. Fitzurse seized him, meaning to drag him off as a prisoner.
He had been calm so far; his pride rose at the indignity of an
«<
XI-381


## p. 6082 (#52) ############################################

6082
JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
arrest. "Touch me not, thou abominable wretch! " he said,
wrenching his cloak out of Fitzurse's grasp. "Off, thou pander,
thou! " Le Breton and Fitzurse grasped him again, and tried to
force him upon Tracy's back. He grappled with Tracy and flung
him to the ground, and then stood with his back against the
pillar, Edward Grim supporting him. Fitzurse, stung by the foul
epithet which Becket had thrown at him, swept his sword over
him and dashed off his cap. Tracy, rising from the pavement,
struck direct at his head. Grim raised his arm and caught the
blow. The arm fell broken, and the one friend found faithful
sank back disabled against the wall. The sword with its remain-
ing force wounded the archbishop above the forehead, and the
blood trickled down his face. Standing firmly, with his hands
clasped, he bent his neck for the death-stroke, saying in a low
voice, "I am prepared to die for Christ and for his Church. "
These were his last words. Tracy again struck him. He fell
forward upon his knees and hands. In that position Le Breton
dealt him a blow which severed the scalp from the head and
broke the sword against the stone, saying, "Take that for my
Lord William. " De Broc or Mauclerc - the needless ferocity was
attributed to both of them - strode forward from the cloister
door, set his foot on the neck of the dead lion, and spread the
brains upon the pavement with his sword's point. "We may go,"
he said; "the traitor is dead, and will trouble us no more.
>>
Such was the murder of Becket, the echoes of which are still
heard across seven centuries of time, and which, be the final
judgment upon it what it may, has its place among the most
enduring incidents of English history. Was Becket a martyr, or
was he justly executed as a traitor to his sovereign? Even in
that supreme moment of terror and wonder, opinions were di-
vided among his own monks. That very night Grim heard one
of them say, "He is no martyr, he is justly served. " Another
said - scarcely feeling, perhaps, the meaning of the words,— " He
wished to be king and more than king. Let him be king, let
him be king. " Whether the cause for which he died was to pre-
vail, or whether the sacrifice had been in vain, hung on the
answer which would be given to this momentous question. In a
few days or weeks an answer came in a form to which in that
age no rejoinder was possible; and the only uncertainty which
remained at Canterbury was whether it was lawful to use the or-
dinary prayers for the repose of the dead man's soul, or whether,
—


## p. 6083 (#53) ############################################

JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
6083
in consequence of the astounding miracles which were instantly
worked by his remains, the Pope's judgment ought not to be
anticipated, and the archbishop ought not to be at once adored
as a saint in heaven.
CHARACTER OF HENRY VIII.
From the History of England'
ROTESTANTS and Catholics united to condemn a government
which both had suffered; and a point on which ene-
mies were agreed was assumed to be proved. When I com-
menced the examination of the records, I brought with me the
inherited impression, from which I had neither any thought nor
any expectation that I should be disabused. I found that it
melted between my hands, and with it disappeared that other
fact, so difficult to credit, yet as it had appeared so impossible to
deny, that English Parliaments, English judges, English clergy,
statesmen whose beneficent legislature survives among the most
valued of our institutions, prelates who were the founders and
martyrs of the English Church, were the cowardly accomplices.
of abominable atrocities, and had disgraced themselves with a
sycophancy which the Roman Senate imperfectly approached
when it fawned on Nero.
Henry had many faults. They have been exhibited in the
progress of the narrative: I need not return to them. But his
position was one of unexampled difficulty; and by the work
which he accomplished, and the conditions, internal and exter-
nal, under which his task was allotted to him, he, like every
other man, ought to be judged. He was inconsistent: he can
bear the reproach of it. He ended by accepting and approving
what he had commenced with persecuting; yet it was with the
honest inconsistency which distinguishes the conduct of most
men of practical ability in times of change, and even by virtue
of which they obtain their success. If at the commencement of
the movement he had regarded the eucharist as a "remem-
brance," he must either have concealed his convictions or he
would have forfeited his throne; if he had been a stationary.
bigot, the Reformation might have waited for a century, and
would have been conquered only by an internecine war.
But as the nation moved the King moved, leading it, but
not outrunning it; checking those who went too fast, dragging


## p. 6084 (#54) ############################################

6084
JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
forward those who lagged behind. The conservatives, all that
was sound and good among them, trusted him because he so long
continued to share their conservatism; when he threw it aside he
was not reproached with breach of confidence, because his own
advance had accompanied theirs.
Protestants have exclaimed against the Six Articles Bill; Ro-
manists against the Act of Supremacy. Philosophers complain
that the prejudices of the people were needlessly violated, that
opinions should have been allowed to be free, and the reform of
religion have been left to be accomplished by reason. Yet, how-
ever cruel was the Six Articles Bill, the governing classes even
among the laity were unanimous in its favor. The King was not
converted by a sudden miracle; he believed the traditions in
which he had been trained; his eyes, like the eyes of others,
opened but slowly; and unquestionably, had he conquered for
himself in their fullness the modern principles of toleration, he
could not have governed by them a nation which was itself in-
tolerant. Perhaps, of all living Englishmen who shared Henry's
faith, there was not one so little desirous in himself of enforcing
it by violence. His personal exertions were ever to mitigate the
action of the law, while its letter was sustained; and England at
its worst was a harbor of refuge to the Protestants, compared to
the Netherlands, to France, to Spain, or even to Scotland.
That the Romanists should have regarded him as a tyrant is
natural; and were it true that English subjects owed fealty to the
Pope, their feeling was just. But however desirable it may be
to leave religious opinion unfettered, it is certain that if England
was legitimately free, she could tolerate no difference of opinion
on a question of allegiance, so long as Europe was conspiring to
bring her back into slavery. So long as the English Romanists
refused to admit without mental reservation that, if foreign ene-
mies invaded this country in the Pope's name, their place must
be at the side of their own sovereign, "religion" might palliate
the moral guilt of their treason, but it could not exempt them
from its punishment.
But these matters have been discussed in the details of this
history, where alone they can be understood.
Beyond and besides the Reformation, the constitution of these
islands now rests in large measure on foundations laid in this
reign. Henry brought Ireland within the reach of English civil-
ization. He absorbed Wales and the Palatinates into the general
English system. He it was who raised the House of Commons


## p. 6085 (#55) ############################################

JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
6085
from the narrow duty of voting supplies, and of passing without
discussion the measures of the Privy Council, and converted them
into the first power in the State under the Crown. When he as-
cended the throne, so little did the Commons care for their privi-
leges that their attendance at the sessions of Parliament was
enforced by a law. They woke into life in 1529, and they be-
came the right hand of the King to subdue the resistance of the
House of Lords, and to force upon them a course of legislation
which from their hearts they detested. Other kings in times of
difficulty summoned their "great councils," composed of peers, or
prelates, or municipal officials, or any persons whom they pleased
to nominate. Henry VIII. broke through the ancient practice,
and ever threw himself on the representatives of the people. By
the Reformation and by the power which he forced upon them,
he had so interwoven the House of Commons with the highest
business of the State that the peers thenceforward sunk to be
their shadow.
Something, too, ought to be said of his individual exertions
in the details of State administration. In his earlier life, though
active and assiduous, he found leisure for elegant accomplish-
ments, for splendid amusements, for relaxations careless, extrava-
gant, sometimes questionable. As his life drew onwards, his
lighter tastes disappeared, and the whole energy of his intellect
was pressed into the business of the commonwealth. Those who
have examined the printed State papers may form some impres-
sion of his industry from the documents which are his own com-
position, and the letters which he wrote and received: but only
persons who have seen the original manuscripts, who have ob-
served the traces of his pen in side-notes and corrections, and
the handwritings of his secretaries in diplomatic commissions, in
drafts of Acts of Parliament, in expositions and formularies, in
articles of faith, in proclamations, in the countless multitude of
documents of all sorts, secular or ecclesiastical, which contain the
real history of this extraordinary reign,—only they can realize the
extent of labor to which he sacrificed himself, and which brought
his life to a premature close. His personal faults were great, and
he shared, besides them, in the errors of his age; but far deeper
blemishes would be but as scars upon the features of a sovereign
who in trying times sustained nobly the honor of the English
name, and carried the commonwealth securely through the hard-
est crisis in its history.


## p. 6086 (#56) ############################################

6086
JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
ON A SIDING AT A RAILWAY STATION
From Short Studies on Great Subjects>
SOME
OME years ago I was traveling by railway, no matter whence
or whither. I was in a second-class carriage. We had been
long on the road, and had still some distance before us,
when one evening our journey was brought unexpectedly to an
end by the train running into a siding. The guards opened the
doors, we were told that we could proceed no further, and were
required to alight. The passengers were numerous, and of all
ranks and sorts. There were third class, second, first, with sa-
loon carriages for several great persons of high distinction. We
had ministers of State, judges on circuit, directors, leading men
of business, idle young men of family who were out amusing
themselves, an archbishop, several ladies, and a duke and duchess
with their suite. These favored travelers had Pullman cars to
themselves, and occupied as much room as was allotted to scores
of plebeians. I had amused myself for several days in observing
the luxurious appurtenances by which they were protected against
discomfort, the piles of cushions and cloaks, the baskets of
dainties, the novels and magazines to pass away the time, and
the profound attention which they met with from the conductors
and station-masters on the line. The rest of us were a miscel-
laneous crowd,-commercial people, lawyers, artists, men of let-
ters, tourists moving about for pleasure or because they had
nothing to do; and in third-class carriages, artisans and laborers
in search of work, women looking for husbands or for service, or
beggars flying from starvation in one part of the world to find
it follow them like their shadows, let them go where they pleased.
All these were huddled together, feeding hardly on such poor
provisions as they carried with them or could pick up at the
stopping-places. No more consideration was shown them than if
they had been so many cattle. But they were merry enough:
songs and sounds of laughter came from their windows, and
notwithstanding all their conveniences, the languid-looking fine
people in the large compartments seemed to me to get through
their journey with less enjoyment after all than their poor fellow
travelers. These last appeared to be of tougher texture, to care less
for being jolted and shaken, to be better humored and kinder to
one another. They had found life go hard with them wherever
―――――


## p. 6087 (#57) ############################################

JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
6087
they had been, and not being accustomed to have everything
which they wished for, they were less selfish and more consid-
erate.
The intimation that our journey was for the present at an
end came on most of us as an unpleasant surprise. The gran-
dees got out in a high state of indignation. They called for their
servants, but their servants did not hear them, or laughed and
passed on. The conductors had forgotten to be obsequious. All
classes on the platform were suddenly on a level. A beggar
woman hustled the duchess, as she was standing astonished be-
cause her maid had left her to carry her own bag. The patricians
were pushed about among the crowd with no more concern than
if they had been common mortals. They demanded loudly to
see the station-master. The minister complained angrily of the
delay; an important negotiation would be imperiled by his deten-
tion, and he threatened the company with the displeasure of his
department. A consequential youth who had just heard of the
death of his elder brother was flying home to take his inherit-
ance. A great lady had secured, as she had hoped, a brilliant
match for her daughter; her work over, she had been at the baths
to recover from the dissipation of the season; difficulty had arisen
unlooked for, and unless she was at hand to remove it the worst
consequences might be feared. A banker declared that the credit
of a leading commercial house might fail, unless he could be at
home on the day fixed for his return; he alone could save it. A
solicitor had the evidence in his portmanteau which would deter-
mine the succession to the lands and title of an ancient family.
An elderly gentleman was in despair about his young wife, whom
he had left at home; he had made a will by which she was to
lose his fortune if she married again after his death, but the will
was lying in his desk unsigned. The archbishop was on his way
to a synod, where the great question was to be discussed whether
gas might be used at the altar instead of candles. The altar
candles were blessed before they were used, and the doubt was
whether gas could be blessed. The right reverend prelate con-
ceived that if the gas tubes were made in the shape of candles
the difficulty could be got over, but he feared that without his
moderating influence the majority might come to a rash de-
cision.
All these persons were clamoring over their various anxi-
eties with the most naïve frankness, the truth coming freely out,


## p. 6088 (#58) ############################################

6088
JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
whatever it might be. One distinguished-looking lady in deep
mourning, with a sad, gentle face, alone was resigned and hopeful.
It seemed that her husband had been stopped not long before at
the same station. She thought it possible that she might meet
him again.
The station-master listened to the complaints with composed
indifference. He told the loudest that they need not alarm them-
selves. The State would survive the absence of the minister.
The minister, in fact, was not thinking of the State at all, but of
the party triumph which he expected; and the peerage which was
to be his reward, the station-master said, would now be of no use to
him. The youth had a second brother who would succeed instead
of him, and the tenants would not be inconvenienced by the
change. The fine lady's daughter would marry to her own liking
instead of her mother's, and would be all the happier for it. The
commercial house was already insolvent, and the longer it lasted
the more innocent people would be ruined by it. The boy whom
the lawyer intended to make into a rich baronet was now work-
ing industriously at school, and would grow up a useful man.
a great estate fell in to him he would be idle and dissolute.
The old man might congratulate himself that he had escaped so
soon from the scrape into which he had fallen. His wife would
marry an adventurer, and would suffer worse from inheriting his
fortune. The archbishop was commended for his anxiety. His
solution of the candle problem was no doubt an excellent one; but
his clergy were now provided with a harmless subject to quarrel
over, and if it was adopted they might fall out over something
else which might be seriously mischievous.
If
"Do you mean, then, that you are not going to send us for-
ward at all? " the minister inquired sternly.
"You will see," the station-master answered with a curious
short laugh. I observed that he looked more gently at the lady
in mourning. She had said nothing, but he knew what was in
her mind, and though he held out no hope in words that her
wish would be gratified, he smiled sadly, and the irony passed
out of his face.
The crowd meanwhile were standing about the platform,
whistling tunes or amusing themselves, not ill-naturedly at the
distress of their grand companions.
Something considerable was
happening. But they had so long experienced the ups and downs
of things that they were prepared for what fortune might send.


## p. 6089 (#59) ############################################

JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
6089
They had not expected to find a Paradise where they were going,
and one place might be as good as another. They had nothing.
belonging to them except the clothes they stood in and their bits
of skill in their different trades. Wherever men were, there
would be need of cobblers, and tailors, and smiths, and carpenters.
If not, they might fall on their feet somehow, if there was work
to be done of any sort.
Presently a bell rang, a door was flung open, and we were
ordered into a waiting-room, where we were told that our lug-
gage was to be examined. It was a large, barely furnished
apartment, like the salle d'attente at the Northern Railway Sta-
tion at Paris. A rail ran across, behind which we were all
penned; opposite to us was the usual long table, on which were
piled boxes, bags, and portmanteaus, and behind them stood a
row of officials, in a plain uniform with gold bands round their
caps, and the dry peremptory manner which passengers accus-
tomed to deference so particularly dislike. At their backs was a
screen extending across the room, reaching half-way to the ceil-
ing; in the rear of it there was apparently an office.
We each looked to see that our particular belongings were
safe, but we were surprised to find that we could recognize none
of them. Packages there were in plenty, alleged to be the property
of the passengers who had come in by the train. They were
arranged in the three classes,-first, second, and third,- but the
proportions were inverted: most of it was labeled as the luggage
of the travelers in fustian, who had brought nothing with them
but what they carried in their hands; a moderate heap stood
where the second-class luggage should have been, and some of
superior quality; but none of us could make out the shapes of
our own trunks. As to the grand ladies and gentlemen, the in-
numerable articles which I had seen put as theirs into the van
were nowhere to be found. A few shawls and cloaks lay upon
the planks, and that was all. There was a loud outcry; but the
officials were accustomed to it, and took no notice. The station-
master, who was still in charge of us, said briefly that the saloon
luggage would be sent forward in the next train. The late
owners would have no more use for it, and it would be delivered
to their friends.
The late owners! Were we no longer actual owners, then?
My individual loss was not great, and besides, it might be made
up to me; for I saw my name on a strange box on the table,


## p. 6090 (#60) ############################################

6090
JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
and being of curious disposition, the singularity of the adventure
made it interesting to me. The consternation of the rest was
indescribable. The minister supposed that he had fallen among
communists, who disbelieved in property, and was beginning a
speech on the elementary conditions of society; when silence was
called, and the third-class passengers were ordered to advance,
that their boxes might be opened. Each man had his own care-
fully docketed. The lids flew off, and within, instead of clothes,
and shoes, and dressing apparatus, and money, and jewels, and
such-like, were simply samples of the work which he had done
in his life. There was an account-book also, in which were
entered the number of days which he had worked, the number
and size of the fields, etc. , which he had drained and inclosed
and plowed, the crops which he had reaped, the walls which he
had built, the metal which he had dug out and smelted and
fashioned into articles of use to mankind, the leather which he
had tanned, the clothes which he had woven,-all entered with
punctual exactness; and on the opposite page, the wages which
he had received, and the share which had been allotted to him
of the good things which he had helped to create.
Besides his work, so specifically called, there were his actions,—
his affection for his parents or his wife and children, his self-
denials, his charities, his purity, his truth, his honesty; or it
might be ugly catalogues of sins and oaths and drunkenness and
brutality. But inquiry into action was reserved for a second
investigation before a higher commissioner. The first examina-
tion was confined to the literal work done by each man for the
general good,-how much he had contributed, and how much.
society had done for him in return; and no one, it seemed, could
be allowed to go any further without a certificate of having
passed this test satisfactorily. With the workmen, the balance in
most instances was found enormously in their favor. The state
of the case was so clear that the scrutiny was rapidly got over,
and they and their luggage were passed in to the higher court.
A few were found whose boxes were empty, who had done
nothing useful all their lives, and had subsisted by begging and
stealing. These were ordered to stand aside till the rest of us
had been disposed of.
The saloon passengers were taken next. Most of them, who
had nothing at all to show, were called up together and were
asked what they had to say for themselves. A well-dressed


## p. 6091 (#61) ############################################

JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
6091
gentleman, who spoke for the rest, said that the whole investiga-
tion was a mystery to him. He and his friends had been born
to good fortunes, and had found themselves, on entering upon
life, amply provided for. They had never been told that work
was required of them, either work with their hands or work with
their heads, in fact, work of any kind. It was right of course
for the poor to work, because they could not honestly live other-
wise. For themselves, they had spent their time in amusements,
generally innocent. They had paid for everything which they
had consumed. They had stolen nothing, taken nothing from
any man by violence or fraud. They had kept the Command-
ments, all ten of them, from the time when they were old enough
to understand them. The speaker, at least, declared that he had
no breach of any Commandment on his own conscience, and he
believed that he might say as much of his companions. They
were superior people, who had been always looked up to and
well spoken of; and to call upon them to show what they had
done was against reason and equity.
"Gentlemen," said the chief official, "we have heard this
many times; yet as often as it is repeated we feel fresh aston-
ishment. You have been in a world where work is the condition
of life. Not a meal can be had by any man that some one has
not worked to produce. Those who work deserve to eat; those
who do not work deserve to starve. There are but three ways
of living: by working, by stealing, or by begging. Those who
have not lived by the first have lived by one of the other two.
And no matter how superior you think yourselves, you will not
pass here till you have something of your own to produce. You
have had your wages beforehand - ample wages, as you acknowl-
edge yourselves. What have you to show? "
"Wages! " the speaker said: "we are not hired servants; we
received no wages. What we spent was our own. All the or-
We have
ders we received were that we were not to do wrong.
done no wrong. I appeal to the higher court. "
But the appeal could not be received. To all who presented
themselves with empty boxes, no matter who they were, or how
excellent their characters appeared to one another, there was the
irrevocable answer - "No admittance, till you come better fur-
nished. " All who were in this condition, the duke and duchess
among them, were ordered to stand aside with the thieves. The
duchess declared that she had given the finest parties in the
-


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6092
JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
season, and as it was universally agreed that they had been the
most tedious, and that no one had found any pleasure there, a
momentary doubt rose whether they might not have answered
some useful purpose in disgusting people with such modes of en-
tertainment; but no evidence of this was forthcoming: the world
had attended them because the world had nothing else to do,
and she and her guests had been alike unprofitable. Thus the
large majority of the saloon passengers was disposed of. The
minister, the archbishop, the lawyer, the banker, and others who
although they had no material work credited to them had yet
been active and laborious in their different callings, were passed
to the superior judges.
Our turn came next,- ours of the second class, and a motley
gathering we were. Busy we must all have been, from the mul-
titude of articles which we found assigned to us: manufacturers
with their wares, solicitors with their law-suits, doctors and cler-
gymen with the bodies and souls which they had saved or lost,
authors with their books, painters and sculptors with their pict-
ures and statues. But the hard test was applied to all that we
had produced,-the wages which we had received on one side, and
the value of our exertions to mankind on the other,— and im-
posing as our performances looked when laid out to be exam-
ined, we had been paid, most of us, out of all proportion to
what we were found to have deserved. I was reminded of a
large compartment in the Paris Exhibition, where an active gen-
tleman, wishing to show the state of English literature, had col-
lected copies of every book, review, pamphlet, or newspaper
which had been published in a single year. The bulk was over-
whelming, but the figures were only decimal points, and the
worth of the whole was a fraction above zero. A few of us
were turned back summarily among the thieves and the fine
gentlemen and ladies: speculators who had done nothing but
handle money which had clung to their fingers in passing
through them, divines who had preached a morality which they
did not practice, and fluent orators who had made speeches which
they knew to be nonsense; philosophers who had spun out of
moonshine systems of the universe, distinguished pleaders who
had defeated justice while they established points of law, writers
of books upon subjects of which they knew enough to mislead
their readers, purveyors of luxuries which had added nothing to
human health or strength, physicians and apothecaries who had
-


## p. 6093 (#63) ############################################

JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
6093
pretended to knowledge which they knew that they did not pos-
sess, these all, as the contents of their boxes bore witness
against them, were thrust back into the rejected herd.
There were some whose account stood better, as having at
least produced something of real merit, but they were cast on
the point of wages: modest excellence had come badly off; the
plausible and unscrupulous had thriven and grown rich. It was
tragical, and evidently a surprise to most of us, to see how
mendacious we had been: how we had sanded our sugar, watered
our milk, scamped our carpentering and mason's work, literally
and metaphorically; how in all things we had been thinking less.
of producing good work than of the profit which we could make
out of it; how we had sold ourselves to tell lies and act them,
because the public found lies pleasant and truth expensive and
troublesome. Some of us were manifest rogues, who had bought
cheap and sold dear, had used false measures and weights, had
made cotton pass for wool, and hemp for silk, and tin for silver.
The American peddler happened to be in the party, who had
put a rind upon a grindstone and had sold it as a cheese. These
were promptly sifted out and placed with their fellows; only per-
sons whose services were on the whole greater than the pay
which they had received were allowed their certificates. When
my own box was opened, I perceived that though the wages had
been small, the work done seemed smaller still; and I was sur-
prised to find myself among those who had passed.
The whistle of a train was heard at this moment, coming in
upon the main line. It was to go in half an hour, and those
who had been turned back were told that they were to proceed
by it to the place where they had been originally going. They
looked infinitely relieved at the news; but before they started, a
few questions had to be put to them, and a few alterations made
which were to affect their future. They were asked to explain
how they had come to be such worthless creatures. They gave
many answers, which came mainly to the same thing. Circum-
stances had been against them. It was all owing to circumstances.
They had been badly brought up. They had been placed in
situations where it had been impossible for them to do better.
The rich people repeated that they had never been informed that
any work was expected of them. Their wants had all been pro-
vided for, and it was unfair to expect that they should have ex-
erted themselves of their own accord when they had no motive


## p. 6094 (#64) ############################################

6094
JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
for working. If they had only been born poor, all would have
gone well with them. The cheating tradesman declared that the
first duty of a shopkeeper, according to all received principles,
was to make money and better his condition. It was the buyer's
business to see to the quality of the articles which he purchased;
the shopkeeper was entitled to sell his wares at the highest price
which he could get for them. So, at least, it was believed and
taught by the recognized authorities on the subject. The orators,
preachers, newspaper writers, novel-writers, etc. , etc. , of whom
there were a great many, appealed to the crowds who came to
listen to them, or bought and read their productions. Tout le
monde, it was said, was wiser than the wisest single sage. They
had given the world what the world wished for and approved;
they had worked at supplying it with all their might, and it was
extremely hard to blame them for guiding themselves by the
world's judgment. The thieves and vagabonds argued that they
had been brought into existence without their consent being
asked: they had not wished for it; although they had not been
without their pleasures, they regarded existence on the whole as
a nuisance which they would gladly have been spared. Being
alive, however, they had to keep alive; and for all that they
could see, they had as full a right to the good things which the
world contained as anybody else, provided they could get them.
They were called thieves. Law and language were made by the
property-owners, who were their natural enemies. If society had
given them the means of living honestly they would have found
it easy to be honest. Society had done nothing for them—why
should they do anything for society?
So, in their various ways, those who had been "plucked"
defended themselves. They were all delighted to hear that they
were to have another chance; and I was amused to observe that
though some of them had pretended that they had not wished to
be born, and had rather not have been born, not one of them
protested against being sent back. All they asked was that they
should be put in a new position, and that the adverse influ-
ences should be taken off. I expected that among these adverse
influences they would have mentioned the faults of their own
dispositions. My own opinion had been that half the misdoings
of men came from congenital defects of character which they
had brought with them into the world, and that constitutional
courage, right-mindedness, and practical ability were as much gifts


## p. 6095 (#65) ############################################

JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
6095
of nature or circumstance as the accidents of fortune. A change
in this respect was of more consequence than in any other. But
with themselves they were all apparently satisfied, and they
required only an improvement in their surroundings. The alter-
ations were rapidly made. The duchess was sent to begin her
life again in a laborer's cottage. She was to attend the village
school and rise thence into a housemaid. The fine gentleman
was made a plowboy. The authors and preachers were to become
mechanics, and bound apprentices to carpenters and blacksmiths.
A philosopher who, having had a good fortune and unbroken.
health, had insisted that the world was as good as it could be
made, was to be born blind and paralytic, and to find his way
through life under the new conditions. The thieves and cheats,
who pretended that their misdemeanors were due to poverty,
were to find themselves, when they arrived in the world again,
in palaces surrounded with luxury. The cup of Lethe was sent
round. The past became a blank. They were hurried into the
train; the engine screamed and flew away with them.
They will be all here again in a few years," the station-
master said, "and it will be the same story over again. I have
had these very people in my hands a dozen times. They have
been tried in all positions, and there is still nothing to show,
and nothing but complaints of circumstances. For my part,
I would put them out altogether. " "How long is it to last? " I
asked. "Well," he said, "it does not depend on me.
No one
passes here who cannot prove that he has lived to some purpose.
Some of the worst I have known made at last into pigs and
geese, to be fatted up and eaten, and made of use that way.
Others have become asses, condemned to carry burdens, to be
beaten with sticks, and to breed asses like themselves for a
hundred generations. All animated creatures tend to take the
shape at last which suits their character. "
The train was scarcely out of sight when again the bell rang.
The scene changed as at a theatre. The screen was rolled back,
and we who were left found ourselves in the presence of four
grave-looking persons, like the board of examiners whom we
remembered at college. We were called up one by one. The
work which had passed the first ordeal was again looked into,
and the quality of it compared with the talent or faculty of the
producer, to see how far he had done his best,- whether any-
where he had done worse than he might have done and knew


## p. 6096 (#66) ############################################

6096
JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
how to have done; while besides, in a separate collection, were
the vices, the sins, the selfishnesses and ill-humors, with-in the
other scale- the acts of personal duty, of love and kindness and
charity, which had increased the happiness or lightened the sor-
rows of those connected with him. These last, I observed, had
generally been forgotten by the owner, who saw them appear
with surprise, and even repudiated them with protest. In the
work, of course, both material and moral, there was every gra-
dation both of kind and merit. But while nothing was abso-
lutely worthless, everything, even the highest achievements of
the greatest artist or the greatest saint, fell short of absolute
perfection. Each of us saw our own performances, from our
first ignorant beginnings to what we regarded as our greatest
triumph; and it was easy to trace how much of our faults were
due to natural deficiencies and the necessary failures of inexperi-
ence, and how much to self-will or vanity or idleness. Some
taint of mean motives, too,- some desire of reward, desire of
praise or honor or wealth, some foolish self-satisfaction, when
satisfaction ought not to have been felt, was to be seen infect-
ing everything, even the very best which was presented for scru-
tiny.
So plain was this that one of us, an earnest, impressive-look-
ing person, whose own work bore inspection better than that of
most of us, exclaimed passionately that so far as he was con-
cerned the examiners might spare their labor. From his earliest
years he had known what he ought to do, and in no instance
had he ever completely done it. He had struggled; he had con-
quered his grosser faults: but the farther he had gone, and the
better he had been able to do, his knowledge had still grown
faster than his power of acting upon it; and every additional day
that he had lived, his shortcomings had become more miserably
plain to him. Even if he could have reached perfection at last,
he could not undo the past, and the faults of his youth would
bear witness against him and call for his condemnation. There-
fore, he said, he abhorred himself. He had no merit which could
entitle him to look for favor. He had labored on to the end,
but he had labored with a full knowledge that the best which he
could offer would be unworthy of acceptance. He had been told,
and he believed, that a high Spirit not subject to infirmity had
done his work for him, and done it perfectly, and that if he
abandoned all claim on his own account, he might be accepted


## p. 6097 (#67) ############################################

JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
6097
for the sake of what another had done. This, he trusted, was
true, and it was his sole dependence. In the so-called good
actions with which he seemed to be credited, there was nothing
that was really good; there was not one which was altogether
what it ought to have been.
He was evidently sincere, and what he said was undoubtedly
true true of him and true of every one. Even in the vehe-
mence of his self-abandonment a trace lingered of the taint which
he was confessing, for he was a polemical divine; he had spent
his life and gained a reputation in maintaining this particular
doctrine. He believed it, but he had not forgotten that he had
been himself its champion.
The examiner looked kindly at him, but answered:-
"We do not expect impossibilities; and we do not blame you
when you have not accomplished what is beyond your strength.
Only those who are themselves perfect can do anything perfectly.
Human beings are born ignorant and helpless. They bring into
the world with them a disposition to seek what is pleasant to
themselves, and what is pleasant is not always right. They learn
to live as they learn everything else. At first they cannot do
rightly at all. They improve under teaching and practice. The
best only arrive at excellence. We do not find fault with the
painter on account of his first bad copies, if they were as good
as could be looked for at his age. Every craftsman acquires his
art by degrees. He begins badly; he cannot help it; and it is
the same with life. You learn to walk by falling down. You
learn to live by going wrong and experiencing the consequences
of it. We do not record against a man 'the sins of his youth'
if he has been honestly trying to improve himself. We do not
require the same self-control in a child as in a man. We do
not require the same attainments from all. Some are well
taught, some are ill taught, some are not taught at all. Some
have naturally good dispositions, some have naturally bad dispo-
sitions. Not one has had power to fulfill the law,' as you call
it, completely. Therefore it is no crime in him if he fails. We
reckon as faults those only which arise from idleness, willfulness,
selfishness, and deliberate preference of evil to good. Each is
judged according to what he has received. "
I was amused to observe how pleased the archbishop looked
while the examiner was speaking. He had himself been engaged
in controversy with this gentleman on the share of "good works »
―
XI-382


## p. 6098 (#68) ############################################

6098
JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE
in justifying a man; and if the examiner had not taken his side in
the discussion, he had at least demolished his adversary. The arch-
bishop had been the more disinterested in the line which he had
taken, as his own "works," though in several large folios, weighed
extremely little; and indeed, had it not been for passages in his
early life,—he had starved himself at college that he might not
be a burden upon his widowed mother,—I do not know but that
he might have been sent back into the world to serve as a parish
clerk.
For myself, there were questions which I was longing to ask,
and I was trying to collect my courage to speak. I wanted chiefly
to know what the examiner meant by "natural disposition. " Was
it that a man might be born with a natural capacity for becom-
ing a saint, as another man with a capacity to become a great
artist or musician, and that each of us could only grow to the
limits of his natural powers? And again, were idleness, willful-
ness, selfishness, etc. , etc. , natural dispositions?