ween what he could and what he could not do. Strictly speaking, he
was a constitutional king; he neither attempted to break up
Parliament, nor to evade the law. He combined in his royal person the
parts of despot and demagogue, and both he clothed in Tudor grace and
majesty. He led his people in the way they wanted to go, he tempted
them with the baits they coveted most, he humoured their prejudices
against the clergy and against the pretensions of Rome, and he used
every concession to extract some fresh material for building up his
own authority. He owed his strength to the skill with which he (p. 431)
appealed to the weaknesses of a people, whose prevailing characteristics
were a passion for material prosperity and an absolute indifference to
human suffering. "We," wrote one of Henry's Secretaries of State, "we,
which talk much of Christ and His Holy Word, have, I fear me, used a
much contrary way; for we leave fishing of men, and fish again in the
tempestuous seas of this world for gain and wicked Mammon."[1170] A
few noble examples, Catholic and Protestant, redeemed, by their blood,
the age from complete condemnation, but, in the mass of his subjects,
the finer feelings seem to have been lost in the pursuit of wealth.
There is no sign that the hideous tortures inflicted on men condemned
for treason, or the equally horrible sufferings of heretics burnt at
the stake, excited the least qualm of compassion in the breast of the
multitude; the Act of Six Articles seems to have been rather a popular
measure, and the multiplication of treasons evoked no national
protest.

[Footnote 1170: Sir William Petre in Tytler's
_Edward VI. and Mary_, i., 427.]

Henry, indeed, was the typical embodiment of an age that was at once
callous and full of national vigour, and his failings were as much a
source of strength as his virtues. His defiance of the conscience of
Europe did him no harm in England, where the splendid isolation of
_Athanasius contra mundum_ is always a popular attitude; and even his
bitterest foes could scarce forbear to admire the dauntless front he
presented to every peril. National pride was the highest motive to
which he appealed. For the rest, he based his power on his people's
material interests, and not on their moral instincts. He took no such
hold of the ethical nature of men as did Oliver Cromwell, but he (p. 432)
was liked none the less for that; for the nation re