time which is great
at another. Men are rich and poor, not only in proportion to what they
have, but to what they want. In some ages, not only necessaries are
cheaper, but fewer things are necessary. In the age of Ascham, most of
the elegancies and expenses of our present fashions were unknown:
commerce had not yet distributed superfluity through the lower classes
of the people, and the character of a student implied frugality, and
required no splendour to support it. His pension, therefore, reckoning
together the wants which he could supply, and the wants from which he
was exempt, may be estimated, in my opinion, at more than one hundred
pounds a year; which, added to the income of his fellowship, put him
far enough above distress.
This was a year of good fortune to Ascham. He was chosen orator to the
university on the removal of sir John Cheke to court, where he was
made tutor to prince Edward. A man once distinguished soon gains
admirers. Ascham was now received to notice by many of the nobility,
and by great ladies, among whom it was then the fashion to study the
ancient languages. Lee, archbishop of York, allowed him a yearly
pension; how much we are not told. He was, probably, about this time,
employed in teaching many illustrious persons to write a fine hand;
and, among others, Henry and Charles, dukes of Suffolk, the princess
Elizabeth, and prince Edward.
Henry the eighth died two years after, and a reformation of religion
being now openly prosecuted by king Edward and his council, Ascham,
who was known to favour it, had a new grant of his pension, and
continued at Cambridge, where he lived in great familiarity with
Bucer, who had been called from Germany to the professorship of
divinity. But his retirement was soon at an end; for, in 1548, his
pupil Grindal, the master of the princess Elizabeth, died, and the
princess, who had already some acquaintance with Ascham, called him
from his college to direct her studies.
He obeyed the summons, as we may easily believe, with readiness, and,
for two years, instructed her with great diligence; but then, being
disgusted either at her, or her domesticks, perhaps eager for another
change of life, he left her, without her consent, and returned to the
university. Of this precipitation he long repented; and, as those who
are not accustomed to disrespect cannot easily forgive it, he probably
felt the effects of his imprudence to his death.
After having visited Cambrid
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