As this letter is little known, as it was the last but one written by the great chancellor, and as it contains some interesting proofs of the close intimacy that existed between him and Bonvisi, we make no apology for giving a part of it from the collection of More's English works formed by his nephew William Rastell, who was an eminent printer. The original is in Latin, but Rastell has translated it.

"The faithful prosperity of this amity and friendship of yours towards me (I wot not how) seemeth in a manner to counterpoise this unfortunate shipwreck of mine, and, saving the indignation of my Prince, of me no less loved than feared, else as concerning all other things, doth almost move the counterpoise. For all those are to be accounted among the mischances of fortune. But if I should reckon the possession of so constant friendship (which no storms of adversity hath taken away, but rather hath fortified and strengthened) amongst the brittle gifts of fortune, then were I mad; for the felicity of so faithful and constant friendship in the storms of fortune, which is seldom seen, is doubtless a high and a noble gift proceeding of a certain singular benignity of God. And, indeed, as concerning myself, I cannot otherwise take it nor reckon it, but that it was ordained by the great mercy of God that you, good Master Bonvyse, amongst my poor friends, such a man as you are, and so great a friend, should be long afore provided; that should by your consolation assuage and relieve a great part of these troubles and griefs of mine, which the hugeness of fortune hath hastily brought upon me. I therefore, my dear friend, of all mortal men to me most dearest, do that which now only I am able to do, earnestly pray to Almighty God, which hath provided you for me, that sith He hath given you such a debtor as shall never be able to pay you, that it may please Him of his benignity to requite this bountifulness of yours, which you every day thus plenteously pour upon me; and that, for His mercy's sake, He will bring us from this wretched and stormy world into His rest, where we shall need no letters, where no wall shall dissever us, where no porter shall keep us from talking together, but that we may have the fruition of the eternal joy with God the Father, and with His only begotten Son, our Redeemer, Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit of them both, the Holy Ghost proceeding from them both. And in the mean season, Almighty God grant both you and me, good Master Bonvyse, and all mortal men everywhere, to set at nought all the richness of this world, with all the glory of it, and the pleasure of their life also, for the love and desire of that joy. Thus of all friends most truly, and to me most dearly beloved, and as I was wont to call you the apple of mine eye, right heartily fare ye well. And Jesus Christ keep you safe and sound, and in good health all your family, which be of like affection towards me as their master is.-THOMAS MORE. I should in vain put to it-yours, for thereof can you not be ignorant, since you have bought it with so many benefits; nor now I am not such a one that it forceth whose I am." But for Bonvisi, with possibly another friend or two of his stamp, and Margaret Roper, More's daughter, this great and good man would have been left by his murderers without proper clothes to cover him, or proper food to eat. When the order for his execution came to the Tower, and Sir Thomas Pope," his singular good friend," having informed More of his fate

-he was to die before nine in the morning of that same day-had left him to himself, Sir Thomas, as one that had been invited to a solemn banquet, changed himself into his best apparel, and put on his silk camlet gown, which his "entire friend, Mr. Antonie Bonvisi," gave him whilst he was in the Tower. He was induced, however, by the representations of the lieutenant, to take it off again, as it would have otherwise become a perquisite of the executioners. He then went cheerfully to the block, his wit and humour flashing brightly to the last. "Mr. Lieutenant, see me safe up," said he, referring to the danger that had been expressed of the weakness of the scaffold, " and for my coming down let me shift for myself." So perished this the greatest of the inhabitants of Crosby Place. His connexion with it can be scarcely said to have ended even then ; for Bonvisi in 1547 leased Crosby Place to William Roper, the husband of More's favourite daughter, Margaret, the affectionate and noble and high-spirited woman who so greatly contributed to the comfort of her father in his worst trials; and to William Rastell, his nephew before mentioned. In the reign of Edward VI., Bonvisi, Roper, and Rastell appear to have been all driven abroad by religious persecution, and the estate of Crosby Place forfeited. It was then granted to Sir Thomas D'Arcy, knight, Lord D'Arcy of Chule. But immediately on the accession of Mary, the persecution having changed sides, Bonvisi and his friends were free to return, which they did in the first year of her reign, and immediately regained their property. The next proprietors were Peter Crowle, Germayne Cioll, who married a cousin of Sir Thomas Gresham's, (the daughter of Sir John Gresham, with whom Thomas was apprenticed,) and William Bond, Alderman of London, and his sons. Some extensive alterations are supposed to have been made during the alderman's proprietorship; a turret in particular is mentioned as having been built by him, which greatly increased the height of the building. No traces of this turret are now to be found. From the inscription on the alderman's tomb in the adjoining church of St. Helen's it appears that he had been in his day a personage of considerable energy and importance :-" Here lieth the body of William Bond, alderman, and some time Sheriff of London, a merchant adventurer, and most famous in his age for his great adventures both by sea and land." In 1594 Sir John Spencer purchased Crosby Place, and kept his mayoralty that year in it, doubtless with great splendour. He was perhaps the richest citizen of his day, as he died worth nearly a million sterling. He was called "The Rich Spencer." His daughter and sole heiress married William, the second Lord Compton, afterwards Earl of Northampton, who was so transported at the value of his inheritance that he lost his wits, and remained for some years in that state. If he had weighed a little more closely the capabilities of his wife to spend the enormous wealth she brought him, it would perhaps have somewhat moderated his transports. Her fortune was large certainly, but we may see from the following unique letter, written to her husband soon after their marriage, that her ideas of her wants were fully" equal to any fortune."

My sweet Life,-Now I have declared to you my mind for the settling of your state, I suppose that it were best for me to bethink and consider within myself what allowance were meetest for me. I pray and beseech you to grant to me,

your most kind and loving wife, the sum of 2,6007., quarterly to be paid. Also I would, besides that allowance, have 6007., quarterly to be paid, for the performance of charitable works; and those things I would not, neither will be, accountable for. Also I will have three horses for my own saddle, that none shall dare to lend or borrow; none lend but I, none borrow but you. Also I would have two gentlewomen, lest one should be sick, or have some other let; also, believe it, it is an undecent thing for a gentlewoman to stand mumping alone, when God hath blessed their lord and lady with a great estate. Also when I ride a-hunting or a-hawking, or travel from one house to another, I will have them attending; so for either of these said women I must and will have for either of them a horse. Also I will have six or eight gentlemen; and I will have my two coaches, one lined with velvet to myself, with four very fine horses; and a coach for my women, lined with cloth, and laced with gold, otherwise with scarlet and laced with silver, with four good horses. Also I will have two coachmen, one for my own coach, the other for my women. Also, at any time when I travel, I will be allowed not only coaches and spare horses for me and my women, but I will have such carriages as shall be fitting for all; orderly, not pestering my things with my women's, nor theirs with either chambermaid's, nor theirs with wash-maids'. Also, for laundresses, when I travel, I will have them sent away before the carriages, to see all safe; and the chambermaids I will have go before, that the chamber may be ready, sweet, and clean. Also, for that it is undecent for me to crowd up myself with my gentleman-usher in my coach, I will have him to have a convenient horse to attend me either in city or country. And I must have two footmen. And my desire is that you defray all the charges for me. And for myself, besides my yearly allowance, I would have twenty gowns of apparel, six of them excellent good ones, eight of them for the country, and six other of them very excellent good ones. Also I would have to put in my purse 20007. and 2007., and so you to pay my debts. Also I would have 60007. to buy me jewels, and 4000l. to buy me a pearl chain. Now, seeing I have been and am so reasonable unto you, I pray you do find my children apparel and their schooling, and all my servants, men and women, their wages. Also I will have all my houses furnished, and my lodging-chambers to be suited with all such furniture as is fit; as beds, stools, chairs, suitable cushions, carpets, silver warming-pans, cupboards of plate, fair hangings, and such like. So for my drawing-chambers in all houses, I will have them delicately furnished, both with hangings, couch, canopy, glass, carpet, chairs, cushions, and all things thereunto belonging. Also my desire is that you would pay your debts, build up Ashley House, and purchase lands, and lend no money, as you love God, my Lord Chamberlain, who would have all, perhaps your life. **** So now that I have declared to you what I would have, and what it is that I would not have, I pray you, when you be an earl, to allow me 20007. more than I now desire, and double attendance."

to

This lady, who so considerately values herself upon her reasonableness, most probably occasionally resided here with her husband, during Sir John Spencer's lifetime, as well as after his death, which took place in 1609. Sir John, it appears, made some alterations in the place, and "builded a most large ware

house near thereunto." Ambassadors were entertained on several occasions here. The most important event of this kind took place during the "Rich Spencer's proprietorship; when no less important a person than M. de Rosney, afterwards the Duke of Sully, Henry IV. of France's great adviser, was entertained in Crosby Place. He came to London on a special embassy to James I., in the hope of inducing James to maintain the league which had existed between Elizabeth, France, and the Hollanders, and to prevent him from making peace with Roman Catholic Spain. Sully had one difficulty to contend with. Many excesses had been committed by the retinue of a former ambassador, and he therefore anticipated finding a strong popular prejudice against him. Referring to this and to the discredit which he felt such transactions cast upon his country, Sully writes, "I was fully resolved that if my conduct could not clear France from this reproach, it should not at least be incurred by those over whom I had authority. But in these cases precepts are seldom effectual; I therefore enforced them by an example, for which an opportunity happened almost immediately. I was the next day accommodated with apartments in a very handsome house (Crosby Place), situate in a great square, near which all my retinue were also provided with the necessary lodgings. Some of them went to entertain themselves with common women of the town. At the same place they met with some English, with whom they quarrelled, fought, and one of the English was killed. The populace, who were before prejudiced against us, being excited by the family of the deceased, who was a substantial citizen, assembled, and began loudly to threaten revenge upon all the French, even in their lodgings. The affair soon began to appear of great consequence; for the number of people assembled upon the occasion was presently increased to upwards of three thousand, which obliged the French to fly for an asylum into the house of the ambassador. I did not at first take notice of it; the evening advanced, and I was playing at primero with the Marquis d'Oraison, Saint-Luc, and Blerancourt. But observing them come in at different times, by three and four together, and with great emotion, I at last imagined something extraordinary had happened, and, having questioned Terrail and Gadancourt, they informed me of the particulars. The honour of my nation, my own in particular, and the interest of my negotiation, were the first objects that presented themselves to my mind. I was also most sensibly grieved that my entry into London should be marked at the beginning by so fatal an accident; and at that moment I am persuaded my countenance plainly expressed the sentiments with which I was agitated. Guided by my first impulse, I arose, took a flambeau, and, ordering all that were in the house (which was about a hundred) to range themselves round the walls, hoped by this means to discover the murderer, which I did without any difficulty, by his agitation and fear. He was for denying it at first, but I soon obliged him to confess the truth. He was a young man, and the son of the Sieur de Combant, principal examiner in Chancery, very rich, and a kinsman likewise of Beaumont's (the resident French ambassador), who, entering at the moment, desired me to give the young Combant into his hands, that he might endeavour to save him. I do not wonder,' I replied to Beaumont, with an air of authority and indignation, that the English and you are at variance,

'I

if you are capable of preferring the interest of yourself and your relations to that of the King and the public; but the service of the King, my master, and the safety of so many gentlemen of good families, shall not suffer for such an imprudent stripling as this.' I told Beaumont in plain terms, that Combant should be beheaded in a few minutes. 'How, Sir!' cried Beaumont, behead a kinsman of mine, possessed of two hundred thousand crowns, an only son!—it is but an ill recompense for the trouble he has given himself, and the expense he has been at to accompany you.' I again replied, in as positive a tone, I had no occasion for such company,' and, to be short, I ordered Beaumont to quit my apartment; for I thought it would be improper to have him present in the council, which I intended to hold immediately, in order to pronounce sentence of death upon Combant. In this council I made choice only of the oldest and the wisest of my retinue; and the affair being presently determined, I sent Arnaud to inform the Mayor of London of it, and to desire him to have his officers ready the next day to conduct the culprit to the place of execution, and to have the executioner there ready to receive him. The mayor returned me for answer, that his first care had been to quiet the tumultuous populace, not doubting but I would do him justice, and that he was just coming to demand it of me when he received my letter and the sentence; he moreover exhorted me to moderate it, either because my severity had disarmed his, or, which seemed most probable, because he had already suffered himself to be corrupted by presents from the friends of the criminal. I sent again to this magistrate to inform him that as no superior authority, nor respect for any person whatever, had determined me to pronounce this sentence, I could not consent to revoke it; that by carrying it into execution I should justify the King my master, and give the English nation a convincing proof that I had done everything upon the occasion which my duty required; therefore, in such an affair, I could only acquit myself of it by committing it to him, and by resigning the prisoner to such punishment as justice and the laws of England required. I accordingly sent Combant to him; so that the whole procedure became a particular affair between the mayor and Combant, or rather Beaumont, who, without much difficulty, obtained this magistrate's consent to set Combant at liberty,-a favour which none could impute to me; on the contrary, I perceived both the French and English seemed to think that if the affair had been determined by me, it would not have ended so well for Combant; and the consequence of this to me, with respect to the English and French, was that the former began to love me, and the latter to fear me more." Although the character of Sully precludes the idea that he would have hesitated in allowing the civic authorities to put Combant to death, had they so wished, yet it seems to us tolerably evident that Sully deserves great credit for his finesse; his severity disarmed that of more dangerous judges, and we have no doubt saved the young man's life. We may dismiss the Duke de Sully with the remark that by his address, his winning manners, and his gold (it is said he bribed the Queen herself), he completely succeeded in his objects. During the proprietorship of Lord Compton and his rich wife, another distinguished tenant

* Memoirs of the Duke of Sully. 4to. London, 1756. Vol. ii. P. 174.