I'm not so sure about this analysis. I think the duty to honor the king, rooted in the fourth commandments is underappreciated here and possibly in the play - but not by More the man.
While the full-throated principled stand certainly has precedent (see John Fisher's handling of the situation), More's recognition of man's law as a participation in natural and therefore God's law is quite possibly a plausible explanation for his course of action.
Aquinas' opinions on the grounds for rebelling (narrow to none) would certainly be familiar to More, and should be considered in the background to his approach to Henry
One man’s “Bastardization” is another man’s Lionization.
The truth here, likely, favors the latter. Bolt’s More is not a Saint, yet.
I had the privilege of playing the role of More in a production in my last year of college.
The director was very helpful, “This is not ‘The Lives of the Saints.’” His reason:
Hagiography does not make compelling theater/moviegoing.
Everybody already knows that the real More is a Saint. The challenge for the play/screenwriter is to portray the Saint as a compelling character. Hence, for Bolt’s play, the device of the driving character of the Everyman, which is absent and subsumed into Schofield’s More.
The “crisis of conscience” and “running from the Law”, on the other hand, makes for great drama. The genius of Bolt is how easy it is to relate to More. Bolt spends Two-hours getting everybody onto the side of the Chancellor of the Realm over what in fact was an obscure matter of Law and controversial religious Dogma.
I’ll accept that Bolt’s More is something of a convenient simplification of the man. But this popularization helps—not hinders—as it alerts folks to the gravity of the real need to form one’s conscience to accord with the Truth. This in fact does more honor to the Saint. That everyone can do their part, by forming well their own consciences, to imitate him.
Malick’s Jägerstätter is similar. Jägerstätter in real life, was far more evangelical and far less conflicted. But that grace is rare. Instead Malick masterfully portrays a universally accessible ‘crisis of conscience’ and as a result introduces millions of people to the Cross.
From Hilaire Belloc’s “Characters of the Reformation” (1936), pp. 68-69:
Observe the circumstances of that death, and see how strange they were compared with what might be called, with due respect, the general run of martyrdoms.
The King had determined to get his true marriage declared null, to make Anne Boleyn his queen, and to make Anne Boleyn's child his heir. Sir Thomas More did not protest when he saw that the royal policy was drifting more and more away from unity with the Holy See; he resigned his office, but he did so without explanation. If another should take his place who had not these scruples, he would raise no voice against the newcomer.
When the royal supremacy was declared in its final and most conclusive form, in November of 1534, and the Pope was repudiated (though the Mass and everything else went on as usual) he remained what was called, in the language of the day, a loyal subject to his "natural Lord," King Henry.
He did not challenge; he remained silent, so far as official action went, although, of course, his private conviction was known.
Even when the Oath of Supremacy was administered he was prepared to accept the marriage of Henry with Anne, and to admit that their child should inherit the throne, through the disinheritance of the true heiress, the Princess Mary.
When the document was put before him for his acceptance, to be sworn to in the presence of Granmer at Lambeth in the Archbishop's palace, he made no protest against it as a whole. All he said was that there was a point in the Preamble which he could not accept. He held out over a detail or what seemed to contemporaries a detail. "One" poor scruple." He said that the Preamble implied something he could not in conscience accept.
They did not want to sacrifice him. They bade him think it over; and he walked up and down in the gardens of Lambeth palace thinking it over, as they thought, but he was not likely to think himself into another state of mind. He stood firm, on that one small point: that the phraseology of one small part of a law which, in everything
else, he accepted, was at issue with orthodoxy. For that he was imprisoned, for that, many months after, he willingly accepted death.
When they went through the form of trial in the last days before his sacrifice, it is remarkable to observe how silent he still remained, how wholly upon the defensive, still asking his opponents to prove their case, and keeping back in reserve all that he might have said. Until sentence was delivered no man could have proved out of his own mouth what that doctrine was for which none the less he was ready to lay down his life. Only when sentence had been passed did he speak at last, fully, and tell them precisely what his position was.
But thoroughly impracticable is the middle way, that religion of least resistance. And every existential quandary that plagues America today stems from our attempt to worship it.
"But thoroughly impracticable is the middle way, that religion of least resistance. And every existential quandary that plagues America today stems from our attempt to worship it."
I'm not so sure about this analysis. I think the duty to honor the king, rooted in the fourth commandments is underappreciated here and possibly in the play - but not by More the man.
While the full-throated principled stand certainly has precedent (see John Fisher's handling of the situation), More's recognition of man's law as a participation in natural and therefore God's law is quite possibly a plausible explanation for his course of action.
Aquinas' opinions on the grounds for rebelling (narrow to none) would certainly be familiar to More, and should be considered in the background to his approach to Henry
Agreed, Christopher, though on slightly different grounds. I wrote out my thoughts here: https://dominicoption.substack.com/p/saints-dont-need-to-be-fanatics
Respectfully, disagree.
One man’s “Bastardization” is another man’s Lionization.
The truth here, likely, favors the latter. Bolt’s More is not a Saint, yet.
I had the privilege of playing the role of More in a production in my last year of college.
The director was very helpful, “This is not ‘The Lives of the Saints.’” His reason:
Hagiography does not make compelling theater/moviegoing.
Everybody already knows that the real More is a Saint. The challenge for the play/screenwriter is to portray the Saint as a compelling character. Hence, for Bolt’s play, the device of the driving character of the Everyman, which is absent and subsumed into Schofield’s More.
The “crisis of conscience” and “running from the Law”, on the other hand, makes for great drama. The genius of Bolt is how easy it is to relate to More. Bolt spends Two-hours getting everybody onto the side of the Chancellor of the Realm over what in fact was an obscure matter of Law and controversial religious Dogma.
I’ll accept that Bolt’s More is something of a convenient simplification of the man. But this popularization helps—not hinders—as it alerts folks to the gravity of the real need to form one’s conscience to accord with the Truth. This in fact does more honor to the Saint. That everyone can do their part, by forming well their own consciences, to imitate him.
Malick’s Jägerstätter is similar. Jägerstätter in real life, was far more evangelical and far less conflicted. But that grace is rare. Instead Malick masterfully portrays a universally accessible ‘crisis of conscience’ and as a result introduces millions of people to the Cross.
From Hilaire Belloc’s “Characters of the Reformation” (1936), pp. 68-69:
Observe the circumstances of that death, and see how strange they were compared with what might be called, with due respect, the general run of martyrdoms.
The King had determined to get his true marriage declared null, to make Anne Boleyn his queen, and to make Anne Boleyn's child his heir. Sir Thomas More did not protest when he saw that the royal policy was drifting more and more away from unity with the Holy See; he resigned his office, but he did so without explanation. If another should take his place who had not these scruples, he would raise no voice against the newcomer.
When the royal supremacy was declared in its final and most conclusive form, in November of 1534, and the Pope was repudiated (though the Mass and everything else went on as usual) he remained what was called, in the language of the day, a loyal subject to his "natural Lord," King Henry.
He did not challenge; he remained silent, so far as official action went, although, of course, his private conviction was known.
Even when the Oath of Supremacy was administered he was prepared to accept the marriage of Henry with Anne, and to admit that their child should inherit the throne, through the disinheritance of the true heiress, the Princess Mary.
When the document was put before him for his acceptance, to be sworn to in the presence of Granmer at Lambeth in the Archbishop's palace, he made no protest against it as a whole. All he said was that there was a point in the Preamble which he could not accept. He held out over a detail or what seemed to contemporaries a detail. "One" poor scruple." He said that the Preamble implied something he could not in conscience accept.
They did not want to sacrifice him. They bade him think it over; and he walked up and down in the gardens of Lambeth palace thinking it over, as they thought, but he was not likely to think himself into another state of mind. He stood firm, on that one small point: that the phraseology of one small part of a law which, in everything
else, he accepted, was at issue with orthodoxy. For that he was imprisoned, for that, many months after, he willingly accepted death.
When they went through the form of trial in the last days before his sacrifice, it is remarkable to observe how silent he still remained, how wholly upon the defensive, still asking his opponents to prove their case, and keeping back in reserve all that he might have said. Until sentence was delivered no man could have proved out of his own mouth what that doctrine was for which none the less he was ready to lay down his life. Only when sentence had been passed did he speak at last, fully, and tell them precisely what his position was.
🤗😉😁📜 Nevertheless, Peter Ackroyd and overmore Richard Marius did establish his fierce responsability in the legal death of douzains of Lutherans!
But thoroughly impracticable is the middle way, that religion of least resistance. And every existential quandary that plagues America today stems from our attempt to worship it.
Amen
"But thoroughly impracticable is the middle way, that religion of least resistance. And every existential quandary that plagues America today stems from our attempt to worship it."
Amen.