One king after another added to Edward's building, till there arose a great pile — almost a city by itself- — Westminster Abbey, Chapter-house, St.Margaret's Church, Hall Palace, clock-towers, infirmary, cloisters, abbot's house, prior's house, sanctuary, granary, and other buildings. The kings spent their money freely, employing architects and masons, who hammered away at the stones, making elaborate adornments, spending such enormous sums of money that the House of Commons protested against expenditures so lavish. That did not stop the work from going on, however, and year by year additions were made, not only to Westminster, but to other abbeys, till, through the exactions of the kings, and the extortions of the priests, monks, and friars, a large part of the earnings of the people was swallowed up by the Church, either in the erection of buildings or the support of tile great swarm of prelates.
Of all the abbeys and monasteries in England, Westminster is the most renowned. Gracefully the Gothic arches rise, springing from the massive pillars bending like the interlacing branches of the forest trees. The mellow sunlight streams in through gorgeously painted windows, throwing a flood of golden, purple, and crimson light upon the long-drawn aisles, the oaken seats, the elaborately carved work of the choir, where the priests chant the service, robed in white; figures of saints and angels — carved in the enduring stone — entwined with vines and flowers. Beneath the abbey is the crypt, where, in niches, the kings and queens of England are entombed. Along the walls of the abbey are tablets and shrines erected to the memory of men who were mightier than kings — the poets, the men who have reigned in the realm of mind.
Upon the stony pavement of the cloisters the monks of Westminster knelt and said their prayers, for religion in those days consisted mainly in counting beads and saying Pater-nosters — going over the same prayer again and again. It did not much affect the heart. It did not recognize the rights of man. It consisted in fasting, praying, doing penance, and observing all the requirements of the Church.
The kings of England delighted to add to the attractions of Westminster. Quite likely the abbots and priors were ever ready to make suggestions to the kings in regard to the endowments; be that as it may, it is certain that the kings, one after another, made liberal contributions for the support of the abbey, and for the addition of something new and attractive in or about the building. Henry VII. plundered his subjects to obtain money to give to the Church. He decided to build a chapel which should be the most magnificent of any in England. An army of masons were employed to hammer the stone, and the skilful builders to lay them in the walls. But it was the people, and not the king, who paid the bills fur quarrying tho stone, hammering the blocks, chiselling the beautiful and intricate scroll-work and tracery of vines, leaves, and flowers. Quite likely the idea never occurred to the king that the building, by good rights, belonged to the people, from whom he wrenched the money by taxation and by the tyranny of the Star-chamber; and the monks, the bishops, and prelates of the Church would have lifted their hands in horror had any one suggested such an idea. But the time was approaching when people would begin to entertain the idea that the king's property was in reality their own property; and there was a little boy — Henry's son — then playing around the king's palace at Hampton Court and at Windsor, who would unwittingly help on such an idea. By-and-by we shall see the boy; but for the present we will make the acquaintance of the boy's older brother, Arthur.
When Arthur is only three years of age, the king looks around to see whom the boy shall marry, and selects the little girl who was playing in the Alhambra on that day when Columbus stood there, making his last earnest plea to Ferdinand and Isabella for aid to enable him to reach the east by sailing west. He is good at driving a bargain, and persuades Ferdinand to give his daughter a handsome dowry. Arthur is three and Katherine five when the betrothal is made.
On the 2d of October, 1501, when Katherine is sixteen and Arthur fourteen, Katherine comes to England, and they are married. Ferdinand pays two hundred thousand ducats in gold as a part of her dowry. But in the next April, Arthur suddenly dies. What shall be done now? Henry VII. loves money. If Katherine goes back to Spain, he will have to give up the two hundred thousand ducats. There is his younger son, Henry, twelve years old; he will betroth him to Katherine, and so hold on to the money. But the Bible says, in Leviticus, that a man must not marry his brother's widow. the Archbishop of Canterbury says that such a marriage would be wrong; but the Bishop of Winchester says it was a law binding on tho Jews, and not on Christians. Henry will see what the head of the Church of Rome says. The Pope is at war with Louis XII., King of France, and would like to have the King of England for an ally, and grants the desired permission. Being the head of the Church, no one can object to his decision; and as he is infallible, the decision is right, no matter what command there may be in Leviticus to the contrary.
The betrothal between Henry and Katherine takes place at the house of the Archbishop of Salisbury, in Fleet Street, June 3d, 1503. The boy Henry objects to being betrothed — not because Katherine is eight years older than himself, not because she is his sister-in-law, but because he has not been consulted, and because he is under age. Let us not forget it, for we shall see great events come to pass through this objection. Henry does not make the objection because he does not love Katherine, for lie does like her, and is willing, notwithstanding his objection, to have the betrothal go an. It is not the boy, but the selfish, money-making, prudent king, who, though he has obtained the Pope's permission for the marriage, thinks it worth while to provide a loop-hole through which he can crawl, if it shall be for his interest so to do by-and-by. Henry will not be of age these six years, and no one knows what may happen in that time. If the boy objects to the betrothal, he can make that an excuse, if need be, for not consummating the marriage when he becomes of age.
The king has a daughter, Margaret, older than Henry, who is married to King James of Scotland. It is a long journey which the young lady has to make on horseback from London to Edinburgh. She does not go alone, however, but is accompanied by a party of high-born ladies and gentlemen.
One night the royal cavalcade stops at a house owned by the Archbishop of York, near the little old town of Scrooby, where the river Idle winds through the meadows, turning and winding as if trying to tie itself in a knot. Myriads of ducks rear their young in the reeds along the river-banks. The archbishop has built a manor-house, in which he can reside, and enjoy himself while hunting, fowling, and fishing. It is an old building, partly of wood, partly of brick, with a great hall, and kitchen with a wide-mouthed fireplace, where the cook gets up grand dinners for tho archbishop and his friends. In the old house, Margaret and her maids, the lords and ladies, rest and refresh themselves and spend the night.
The old Scrooby church rears its tower aloft near at hand. Let us take a good look at the manor-house — at the spacious kitchen, at the dining-hall with its massive table, the stag-horns nailed upon the oaken beams; for we shall come back to the mansion again and again as the years roll by. We shall see gathered around the hearth-stone some men and women who have done great things for liberty.
Margaret, after a night's entertainment, rides on to become Queen of Scotland, holding her court in Holyrood. We shall see her granddaughter (Mary by name) in that palace, leading a life tilled with