Harrison spoke his mind about dignitaries.  He makes a passing reference to Thomas a Becket as “the old Cocke of Canturburie,” who did crow in behalf of the see of Rome, and the “young cockerels of other sees did imitate his demeanour.”  He is glad that images, shrines, and tabernacles are removed out of churches.  The stories in glass windows remain only because of the cost of replacing them with white panes.  He would like to stop the wakes, guilds, paternities, church-ales, and brides-ales, with all their rioting, and he thinks they could get on very well without the feasts of apostles, evangelists, martyrs, the holy-days after Christmas, Easter, and Whitsuntide, and those of the Virgin Mary, with the rest.  “It is a world to see,” he wrote of 1552, “how ready the Catholicks are to cast the communion tables out of their churches, which in derision they call Oysterboards, and to set up altars whereon to say mass.”  And he tells with sinful gravity this tale of a sacrilegious sow:  “Upon the 23rd of August, the high altar of Christ Church in Oxford was trimly decked up after the popish manner and about the middest of evensong, a sow cometh into the quire, and pulled all to the ground; for which heinous fact, it is said she was afterwards beheaded; but to that I am not privy.”  Think of the condition of Oxford when pigs went to mass!  Four years after this there was a sickness in England, of which a third part of the people did taste, and many clergymen, who had prayed not to live after the death of Queen Mary, had their desire, the Lord hearing their prayer, says Harrison, “and intending thereby to give his church a breathing time.”

There were four classes in England—­gentlemen, citizens, yeomen, and artificers or laborers.  Besides the nobles, any one can call himself a gentleman who can live without work and buy a coat of arms—­though some of them “bear a bigger sail than his boat is able to sustain.”  The complaint of sending abroad youth to be educated is an old one; Harrison says the sons of gentlemen went into Italy, and brought nothing home but mere atheism, infidelity, vicious conversation, and ambitious, proud behavior, and retained neither religion nor patriotism.  Among citizens were the merchants, of whom Harrison thought there were too many; for, like the lawyers, they were no furtherance to the commonwealth, but raised the price of all commodities.  In former, free-trade times, sugar was sixpence a pound, now it is two shillings sixpence; raisins were one penny, and now sixpence.  Not content with the old European trade, they have sought out the East and West Indies, and likewise Cathay and Tartary, whence they pretend, from their now and then suspicious voyages, they bring home great commodities.  But Harrison cannot see that prices are one whit abated by this enormity, and certainly they carry out of England the best of its wares.