Rote's Mtopta* i f i ■Vv, Utopia: SUfflritte n tn Satine bp £>pr Cbomas JWore, Jutpgbt, anti translated into (£n= glpsbe bp asapbe asobpnson: anno m.crrce.Iw aaittb copious JJJotes and a Biographical ana Siterarp 3|ntroauction bp tlje C* if* SDtfrtitn, if*£>*21* printed from fe»ir f?. (Ellis’s copy, tottfj ab; ai'tional iPotca ana Corrections* Boston, ^Lincolnshire: l&obert Roberts, Strait Barbate. 1878. BOSTON COLLEGE LIBKAKr chestnut hill, mass. Contents. PREFACE .... EPISTLE TO THE READER . INTRODUCTION TITLE NOTE .... SIR T. MORE, HIS PARENTS HIS FAMILY HIS WIVES . HIS CHILDREN BIOGRAPHY, BEING AN ACCOUNT OF THE VARIOUS LIVES THAT HAVE BEEN PUB¬ LISHED OF HIM. THE WORKS OF SIR T. MORE, WITH SPECIMENS OF THE SAME ENGRAVED PORTRAITS OF SIR T. MORE EDITIONS OF THE UTOPIA THE COMMONWEALTH OF THE UTOPIA DEDICATION TO CRESACRE MORE THOMAS MORE TO PETER GILES PROLOGUE . INTRODUCTORY DISCOURSE UTOPIA.—CAP. I.—OF THE ISLAND AND INHABITANTS OF UPOPIA. CAP. II.-OF THE CITIES, STREETS, HOUSES, ETC. CAP. III.-OF THE MAGISTRATES CAP. IV.-TRADES, ARTS, AND OCCUPATIONS OF THE UTOPIANS . CAP. V.—DOMESTIC LIFE AND CHARACTER OF THE UTOPIANS . . . . , -s r; o o n (> ^ iJ PAGE V. VII. XI. XIII. 15 17 18 37 53 93 IX 3 T 45 147 149 I 57 ^5 231 238 244 247 256 IV CONTENTS UTOPIA.—CAP. VI.—MODES OF TRAVELLING, ETC. „ CAP. VII.—EDUCATION, LEARNING, PHILOSOPHICAL OPINIONS, ETC. „ CAP. VIII.—OF SERVANTS, INVALIDS, AND OF MAR¬ RIAGE, ETC. . „ CAP. IX.-SPIRIT OF THE LAWS „ CAP. X.—OF WAR ...... „ CAP. XI.—OF THE RELIGIONS IN UTOPIA „ CAP. XII.—hythloday’s REFLECTIONS ON THE COMMONWEALTH OF UTOPIA EPILOGUE. EPISTLE OF PETER GILES TO JEROME BUSLIDE SPECIMEN OF THE UTOPIAN LANGUAGE . . . . SUPPLEMENTAL NOTES. EXTRACTS FROM MORE’S WORKS. PAGE 268 280 307 3 21 3 2 7 343 367 373 375 379 383 417 preface. MONG the pleasant things to look back upon in life, are the many conversations about books and literature, I have had with the late la¬ mented B. M. Pickering, in the large room at the back of his shop, after the business of the day was over. Many a fine old volume was taken from the shelves around and its merits discussed, or its peculiar value explained. On one of these occasions, shortly before the terrible stroke which laid him low, I asked him to name some¬ thing suitable for reprinting in a handsome style. He im¬ mediately mentioned “Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy,” in 3 vols., 8vo. I remarked—“ It is a book which everybody talks about, but very few (except authors) read.” “Why, what has that to do with it?” he replied, his face all over smiles, “ It is a book that it looks well to have, and that it is hardly respectable to be without: very few people do read the books they buy; they never intend to read them.” There were other reasons why Burton would not suit my purpose. He next proposed “ a good Library Edi- tion of ‘ More’s Utopia,’ a reprint of Dibdin’s.” At once I said “ Yes, that’s just the book,—I will do it.” “ If you do,” said he, “ let’s have no nasty cheap type ornaments; either quite plain, or only ornament of the best kind.” When I began the work I did not forget Mr. Pickering’s advice. The head-pieces, borders, &c., have been engraved under VI PREFACE. my own eye, from “Books of Hours” of the Early French Printers, which I am fortunate enough to possess. While watching the progress of the engraver, I often pictured to myself the gratified smile with which I thought Pickering would turn over the leaves of the book when finished; a vision never to be realised, for I only saw him once again, and then he was too ill to talk much. He died without seeing it. I began to print literatim from Dibdin, but soon discov¬ ered that his text was so carelessly done that it was not safe to follow. After cancelling two or three sheets, I started afresh, and read the text carefully with the first edition, printed by Vele in 1551, and I hope this edition will be found all the better for it. The book has been produced under many disadvantages ; and with it closes my career as a printer. Ill health has made it impossible for me to give that constant personal attention which is necessary to produce good work. Boston , R. R. April \th, 1878. Cl)e Cpistle to ttje Meatier* GENTLE READER, HERE present unto thee a new edition of a celebrated work, which has not had the good fortune to be so much admired in our own, as in foreign countries. Whether this may have arisen from the want of curiosity or discernment in our ancestors, is a point too delicate and weighty for my determination : cer¬ tain it is, that almost all editors have complained of the backwardness of our countrymen to notice and commend the Utopia of Sir Thomas More. The text of the present edition is taken from the first English one, which was translated by Raphe Robinson, and printed by Abraham Vele, in 1551 : a work of such scarcity as to have escaped the notice of all Editors of ancient English Authors. Its intrinsic value * has appeared to me to be equal to its rarity. * This first English edition is particularly analised at page 129 &c. post. As specimens of the purity of its style, the reader may, in limine , consult pp. 160, I. of the Prologue, and pp. 173, &c. of the First Book. If I were to mention any contemporary work, analogous to it in style it wouid be Michael Wood’s translation of the famous Treatise Vlll THE EPISTLE The Notes, which accompany the text, are exe¬ cuted on the plan of a Variorum Edition; and, without the affectation of antiquarian research, they are intended to throw some little light on the Man¬ ners, Customs, and Sentiments of our ancestors in the sixteenth century. The “ Supplemental Notes,” while they may be thought to exhibit amusing specimens of the litera¬ ture of the seventeenth century, connect, in some degree, the chain of research with the present times.* Those Notes, which allude to modern customs and opinions, may probably, at first sight, be considered superficial ; but it should be remembered that, at a future period, (if the edition be permitted to live) they may in turn become interesting to the curious antiquary. The Biographical and Literary Introduc¬ tion, was intended to give an additional interest to the subsequent pages; so that in reading the most celebrated performance of Sir Thomas More, a toler- De Vera Obedtenha” by the Bishop of Winchester, with Bonner’s pre ace ^printed at Roane, xxvi of October mdliii. 8vo.— a work sufficiency known to, and coveted by, black-letter collectors ! It is the fi 7 y C v n0US - 1He reader Wili com P are the following with the first half dozen lines of page 158, book i. (post.) g * I . haV f a ( dopte ^ both the ar >cient and the modern orthography in the extracts from the authors of the sixteenth 1 C ° m P liment t0 Dr. Johnson’s TemarUn respect to the good sensHvincId by'Mr thelatt f’ from 66 post. y M Ellls > a s noticed at p. TO THE READER. IX ably accurate idea might be formed of the Family, the Life, and the Works of its Author. In the present ago of elegant and curious disquisition, the “ Portraits of Sir Thomas More,” and the “ Edi¬ tions of the Utopia,” may not be thought the least acceptable parts of this “ Introduction.” In fine, (following the example of ancient Lyndsay , and the author of the Complaynt of Scotland ,) I entreat the “ Gude Redar to correct me familiarly, and be cherite, and til interpreit my intentione favour¬ able. Or, in the language of another ancient wight, “ the good reader is to be praied, for his own relief and the Authors, first to correct the errors of the print, and then to read and judge. ”t And thus heartily wishing thee farewell, / am Thine Kensington, June 21, 1808- T. F. D. * Dr. Leyden’s edition of the Complaynt of Scotland , 1801. 4to, p. 23. Prel. Dissert, and p. 27. of the text. A work of equal interest and erudition. The first 292 pages are devoted to a Preliminary Disser¬ tation; the following 294 to a reprint of the text. A useful Glossary of 80 pages concludes the volume. f See “An Anszvere to a Supplicatorie Epistle of G. TP Printed for Tobie Smith, London, 8vo. No date. if 0 Biographical anO Xiterarp 3Jntrot)UCtion, I T was my original intention to have prefixed to this edition of the Utopia, Some account of the Life of Sir Thomas More; but recollecting how frequently (and indeed recently) the sub¬ ject had been before the public, it appeared to be a more eligible plan to reserve for the notes, subjoined to the text of the Utopia, such anec¬ dotes of our author’s life as might enliven, while they illustrated, the work. I shall therefore beg the reader’s attention to the following arrange¬ ment of my introductory materials : I. The Family of Sir T. More. II. The Biography of Sir T. More. III. Account of his Works; with Speci¬ mens of the same. IV. Editions of the Utopia. [T. F. D.] "\! f* w Vis scire in literis, quis, et quid esset Thomas ille Morus decus suorum ? Orator fuit elegans, disertus. Festivus fuit et Poeta suavis. Non Graecum seats ac Latina callens. Nec callet modo ; sed tuetur illa Linguarum haud seats Advocatits acer ; Quam legum f iterat Britannicarum. Quantus Philosophus, docere possunt Leges Utopia recens apertce. &=c. &c. Stapleton, Vit. Mori. p. 365. I. Ci)e jfamtlp of £>tt C* * * § 50ore* i. His Parents. IR THOMAS, on the authority of Staple- ton,* and his Great Grandson,J* was the only son of Sir JOHN More, many years a puisne judge of the court of King’s Bench. The father is described by his son, as a amiable temper and inoffensive manners ; accompanied with unshaken integrity.! “He bare arms from his birth, having his coat quartered ; which doth argue that he came to his inheritance by descent: and therefore, by reason of king Henry’s seizure of all our evidences (says More’s great-grandson,) we cannot certainly tell, who were £ir John's ancestors ,§ yet must they needs be gentlemen ; * Cap. i. p. io. f Ch. i. ! “ Homo civilis, suavis, innocens, mitis, misericors, aequus et inte¬ ger, annis quidem gravis, sed corpore plus quam pro aetate vivido, postquam eo sibi productam vitam vidit, ut filium videret Angliae Can¬ cellarium, satis in terra jam se moratum ratus, libens emigravit in coelum.” Sir Thomas’s Epitaph on his father : among his Latin Works cited by Stapleton, p. io. § I shall here take notice of a very curious and uncommon book, in man of the most 1 6 SIR T. MORE. and, as I have heard, they either came out of the MORES of Ireland or they of Ireland came out of us.”* which there is an ancestry assigned to the “ Mores,” wholly unknown to the biographers of Sir Thomas. This book is in the possession of Mr. Todd ; whose readiness to oblige his friends, is only equalled by his ability to gratify them, in literary communications. The title is as follows : “The English Catholike Christian, or the Saint’s Utopia : by Thomas de Eschallers de la More, an unprofitable Servant of Jesus Christ: of Grazes- Inne, Barrister, and Minister of the Gospel of Eternal Salvation. In the year of Grace and Truth, 1649, &c. &c.” Published in the same year, at London, in 4to. pp. 36. The title, as well as the contents of the book, are evidently the production of an en¬ thusiast, or even madman. It is dedicated to King Charles the First, and in the “ Epistle Dedicatory,” p. 2. the author thus speaks of his family, “ I am a branch sprouted from a root, that many ages hath grown, spread and flourished, lived and revived in the light of the countenance, and sun-shine days of divers Kings of England, your Royall Progenitors; whose princely bounty and most munificent con¬ stant favours unto mine ancestors, hath been as a cloud of the latter rain; •videlicet, Sir Hugh de Founts, un chivaler , qui vint de Nor¬ mandie avec le Conquerour; et transacto regimine Regis Haroldi Secundi ; Laurentius de la More, qui erat in exercitu Willielmi Bas- tardi Regis in Conquestu suo Regni Anglice, &c. et Dominus Galfridus de Scalariis, Miles; et Sir Thomas de Eschallers, et Sir John de Chalers, Knights: (Scalarii isti sunt editi atavo Galfridi Senioris Hardwino de Scalariis Domino totius Baronice de Caxton in Comitate Cantabrigice tempore Willielmi Regis Anglice), and Sir Thomas de la More, Knight, who was a courtier in the reigns of Edward the First, Edward the Second, and Edward the Third, and was a servant (and wrote the life) of King Edward the Second. And my grandfather, who was a servant to king Henry the Eighth .” By this latter sentence, he must allude to Sir Thomas More — which is a manifest absurdity. Sir Thomas died in 1535 ; his only son John, who was born when Sir T. was a young man, had five chil¬ dren—he married young and died young. The eldest of More’s grandsons, Thomas, had thirteen children, of whom the youngest, great-grandson to Sir Thomas, wrote the valuable life of his great¬ grandfather. Now, it would follow that the grandson Thomas, eldest son of John, should be a contemporary with the author of this Tract; and yet we find that the great-grandson , the biographer, died in 1625, twenty-four years before the publishing of this professed grandson’s book! The author of it, therefore, was an impostor or madman. There is a copy of this curious work in the British Museum. * Great-Grandson’s Life, p. 3, 4. HIS WIVES. 19 man of an ancient family in Essex, one Mr. John Colte, of Newhall,* that invited him to his house, being much de¬ lighted in his company ; and proffered unto him the choice of any of his daughters, who were young gentlewomen of very good carriage and complexions, and very religiously inclined ; whose honest and sweet conversation, whose vir¬ tuous education enflamed Sir Thomas not a little. And although his affection most served him to the second, for that he thought her the fairest and best favoured ; yet when he thought with himself that would be a grief and some blemish in the eldest, to see her young sister preferred before her, he, of a kind of compassion, settled his fancy upon the eldest (Jane), and soon after married her, with all her friends good liking.” * « More married,” says Erasmus, “ a maiden young lady of an excellent family, residing in the country with her pa¬ rents and relatives, with a mind somewhat uncultivated, in order that he might the more readily form it according to his own ideas of education. He took care to have her in¬ structed in learning, and in all musical accomplishments, f We are told by the Great-grandson, that Sir Thomas soon “ began to be clogged with wife and family, for his wife brought unto him almost every year a child.” They lived together only six years ; she dying soon after her de¬ livery of the fourth and last child, John. Her remaining children were Margaret, Elizabeth, and Cicely . She appears * Great Grandson’s Life, 4to. edit. p. 46, 7 - Ro P er ’ s Life, edit. L 7 In Farrag. Epist. It seems to have been a settled principle with More that the wife was to learn every thing of her husband.—In his « Treatise upon the Passion,” he says, “ St. Paul commandeth that a woman shall not take upon her to teach her husband but that er husband should teach her : and that she should learn of him in silentio —that is, in silence; that is to wit, she should sit and hear him, an hold herself her tongue .”—Works, 1557. p. 1275 - G. 20 SIR T. MORE. to have been a woman of pleasing manners and sweet dis¬ position, and to have secured and deserved the affections of her husband. We hear of no weak speeches, or disgusting anecdotes, relating to her; and, although the biographers of More do not record any expressed commendations of her by her husband, (nor have I been able to discover any among Sir Thomas’s Works, or Epistles to Erasmus), yet there is just reason to conclude that our author lived happily in his first married state, and that he deeply regretted its transi¬ toriness. There is no doubt but that the Utopia was written during this congenial period of the author’s life.* We are now to speak of More’s Second Wife. In his “ History of Richard the Third,” Sir Thomas tells us that “ small pleasure taketh a man of all he hath beside, if he be wived against his appetite ,”*f* This was emphatically the case of our author in his second marriage, which is thus re¬ lated by his Great-grandson. “ Within two or three years after the death of his first wife, he married a widow, called Mrs. ALICE MIDDLETON, by whom he had no children. This he did not of any con¬ cupiscence, for he would often affirm that chastity is more hardly kept in wedlock, than in single life—but, because she might have care of his children, that were very young, from whom of necessity he must be very often absent. She was of good years,J of no good favour nor complexion, nor very rich : by disposition, very near and worldly. I have heard it reported,” continues our biographer, “that he * See More’s Letter to Peter Giles, post. t More’s English Works, edit. 1556. p. 59. F. + “ He married,” says Erasmus, “ a widow, not for lust, but to be a governess to his young family; who, although she were inclining to old age, and of a nature somewhat harsh, and besides very worldly, he persuaded her to play upon the lute, viol, and some other instru¬ ments, every day performing thereon her task.” Thus did our bene¬ volent author try his utmost to convert discord into harmony. HIS WIVES. 21 wooed her for a friend of his, not once thinking to have her himself; but she wisely answering him that—“he might speed the better if he would speak in his own behalf,”— telling his friend what she had said unto him—with his good liking, he married her : and did that, which otherwise, he would perhaps never have thought to have done. And indeed her favour, as I think, could not have bewitched or scarce moved any man to love her ; but yet she proved a kind and careful mother-in-law to his children.”* Any heart, but More’s, would have been broken by this match ; for Mrs. Alice Middleton appears to have been one of the most loquacious, ignorant, and narrow-minded, of women. Like another Socrates, More endeavoured to laugh away his conjugal miseries ; always replying to the sarcastic remarks of his wife, with complacency and poig¬ nant good humour. The reader will probably be amused with an anecdote or two relating to this good lady. The first has been noticed by Mr. Seward.*]* Sir Thomas would say of her that “she was often penny wise and pound foolish ; saving a candle’s end, and spoiling a velvet gown.” In his book of “ Comfort and Tribulacion,” he calleth this wife of his, a a jollie maister-woman.” —Life of More, 4to. ed. p. 127. When More had resigned the seals of the Chancellor, “he went to Chelsea church, with my lady, and his children and family : and after mass was done, because it was a custom, that one of my Lord’s gentlemen should then go to my Lady’s pew, and tell her my Lord was gone before —then did he HIMSELF come, and making unto her a curtesy, with his cap in his hand, said—“ May it please your Ladyship to come forth—now my Lord is gone ! ” Whereto, she imagin¬ ing it to be but one of his jests, as he used many unto her, * Page 48, 49. 4to. edit. t Anecdotes, vol. i. 93. edit. 1804. 22 SIR T. MORE. he sadly affirmed unto her that it was tiue for he had re¬ signed up his office , and the King had graciously accepted it.” When she used to say afterwards “ Tillie vctllie, tillie vallie , what will you do, Mr. More ?—will you sit and make goslings in the ashes ? it is better to rule than be ruled More then began to find fault with her dressing—but none of his daughters observing it, Sir Thomas merrily said, “ Do you not perceive that your mother's nose is awry ? ”—at which words she stepped away from him in a rage. All which he did, to make her think the less of her decay of honour, which else would have troubled her sore.” Ibid. 244 , 5 - “ When Sir Thomas had remained a good while in the Tower, my Lady, his wife, obtained leave to see him, that he might have more motives to break his conscience. Who, at the first, coming to him like a plain rude woman, and somewhat worldly too, in this manner began bluntly to sa¬ lute. “ What the good year, Mr. More, I marvel that you, who have been hitherto always taken for a wise man, wall now so play the fool, as to lie here in this close filthy prison, and be content to be shut up thus, with mice and rats ! when you might be abroad at your liberty, with the favour and good will both of the king and the counsel—if you would but do as all the bishops and best learned of his realm have done ! And seeing you have at Chelsea a right fair house, your library, your books, your gallery, your garden, your orchard, and all other necessaries so handsome about you—where you might, in company with me your wife, your children, and household, be merry—I muse, what a God’s name you mean here still thus fondly to tarry! ” After he had a good while heard her, he said unto her, with a chearful countenance—“I pray thee, good Mrs. Alice, tell me one thing”—“What is that ? ”—sayeth she,— “Is HIS CHILDREN. not this house as near heaven as mine own ? ” She answering after her custom, “ Til lie vallie, tillie vallie ,”—he replied, “ How sayest thou, Mrs. Alice, is it not so indeed ? ” “Bone Deus , man, will this gear never be left ? ”—“ Well then, Mrs. Alice, if it be so, I see no great cause why I should much joy either of my fair house, or anything belonging there¬ unto ; when if I should be but seven years buried under the ground, and rise and come thither again, I should not fail to find some therein, that would bid me get me out of doors, and tell me plainly that it were none of mine ! What cause have I then to like such a house, as would so soon forget his master ? Again tell me, Mrs. Alice, how long do you think may we live and enjoy it ?”—“ Some twenty years,” said she. “Truly,” replied he, “if you had said some thou¬ sand years, it had been somewhat! and yet he were a very bad merchant that would put himself in danger to lose eter¬ nity for a thousand years ! ” Ibid. p. 306. She survived her husband ; but how long, is not men¬ tioned by More’s biographers. On his death, she was driven from her house at Chelsea, and is said to have sub¬ sisted entirely upon an annuity of twenty pounds per annum, granted her by king Henry VIII. “A poor allowance,” as the great grandson well observes, “ to maintain a Lord Chancellor’s lady! ” 3. His Children . SIR THOMAS More, as has been already observed, had three daughters and one son ; the latter was the youngest. It seems that his first wife wished very much for a boy ; at last she brought him this Son , who proved to be but of slen¬ der capacity—upon which Sir Thomas is reported to have said to his wife, that “ she had prayed so long for a boy , that 24 SIR T. MORE. she had now one who would be a boy as long as he lived /”* The education of the son was not however neglected, and it is reasonable to suppose that he made some progress, as Erasmus styles him “a youth of great hopes.” He also dedicated to him his edition of Aristotle’s works, by which it would appear that young More understood Greek as well as Latin. “ Grynseus, although a heretic , (says the grandson of John,) did dedicate Plato and other books in Greek, unto my grand¬ father, John More, as to one that was also very skilful in the tongue.” The dedication is fulsome enough. Grynaeus tells him that “ the Muses are his sisters, and that a divine heat of spirit, to the admiration and new example of our age, hath driven him far into the seat of learning, &c.”—See the Grandson’s Translation, p. 182. On the death of the father, the son was committed to the Tower, and was condemned for refusing to take the oath of supremacy, for which his parent suffered : “ yet because ” (says his grandson) “ they had sufficiently fleeced him be¬ fore, and could now get no more by his death, he got at last his pardon and liberty, but lived not many years after.”*!* He married a Yorkshire heiress of the name of Cresacres, and had by her five children ; four of whom died shortly after coming of age—the youngest married, and had thirteen children, of which, again, the youngest inherited the estates, and has bequeathed to us his truly valuable life of his Great- Grandfather, Sir Thomas. Of the Daughters of More, the eldest, and most accom¬ plished, was Margaret : a woman, indeed, of such trans¬ cendant talents as to place her in the very first rank of learned women of the age. She appears to have been a pei feet character, as far as human nature may be said to * Old Biogr. Britan, vol. v. p. 3168. t p. 280, 1. 8vo. edit. HIS CHILDREN. 25 approach perfection ; for the attainments of her mind were rendered still more brilliant and attractive by the virtues of her heart. Her disposition was gentle and affectionate ; her sentiments were always expressed with diffidence; and her filial love and reverence towards the best of parents, throws a never-fading lustre upon her memory. The same principles of filial duty which inclined her, at all times, to learn and to practise her father’s precepts—the same intellectual energies which stimulated her to become acquainted with the great authors of antiquity—the same refined feelings which taught her the importance of domestic duties and domestic happiness—these, collectively, seem to have animated her at the great and painful moment of trial, when her father was led to execution—when she, again and again, burst through the crowd, embraced his knees, implored his blessing, wept upon his cheek, and bade him for ever farewell! But the reader shall judge for himself. “ This daughter,”* says her grandson, (the biographer of her father), “was likest * Vide Great Grandson’s Life of Sir Thomas More, 8vo. edit. 1726. p. 139, &c. Stapleton has devoted the eleventh chapter of his biography to an account of the accomplishments of More’s daughter, Margaret; in¬ serting some of the original Latin letters that passed between her and her father. “ Haec Margareta, (says he,) liberorum natu maxima praeter omnes alias Mori proles et statura corporis, et forma, et voce, et ingenio, et tota indole, proxime ad patrem accedebat. Composuit Graece Latineque, soluta et pedestri oratione elegantissime. Vidi ego duas ejus declamationes Latinas exercitii causa scriptas, quae ut stilo quidem ornatae et facundae erant, sic inventione non ita multum patri cedebant.” Speaking of the first of the above letters, written by More to his daughter, Stapleton thus remarks —“ Ex hac sane epistola liquet Margaretam non vulgariter eruditam aut mediocriter literatam fuisse; sed ea scribendo elaborasse quae in lucem emitti et omnibus commu¬ nicari merebantur : etsi vel sexus pudor, vel animi modestia, vel ipsa rei vix credenda novitas, (ut hic Morus insinuat,) ut id aliquando fieret, non permiserit.”—Vit. Thom. Mori. p. 237-240. 2 6 SIR T. MORE. her father as well in favour as in wit, and proved a most rare woman for learning, sanctity, and secrecy; and there¬ fore he trusted her with all his secrets. She wrote Two De¬ clamations in English, which her father and she turned into Latin so elegantly, as one could hardly judge which was the best. She made also a treatise of the “Four Last Things which her father sincerely protested that it was better than his, and therefore, it may be, never finished it. She corrected by her wit a corrupted passage of St. Cyprian. To her, Erasmus wrote an epistle, as to a woman not only famous for manners and virtue, but most of all, for learning. She made an oration to answer Quintilian, defending that rich man which he accuseth for having poisoned a poor man’s bees, with certain venemous flowers in his garden—so elo¬ quent and witty that it may strive with his ! She translated Eusebius out of Greek, but it was never printed ; because Christopherson at that time had done it exactly before.” Cardinal Pole so much admired one of her letters, that when he had read it, he would not believe it could be any woman’s. More thus alludes to it in one of his letters to his daughter :— “ I thought with myself how true I found that now, which once I remember I spoke unto you in jest, when I pitied your hard hap, that men that read your writings would suspect you to have had help of some other man therein, which would derogate somewhat from the praises due to your works; seeing that you of all others deserve least to have such a suspicion had of you, or that you never could abide to be decked with the plumes of other birds. But you, sweet Meg, are rather to be praised for this, that seeing you cannot hope for condigne praise of your labours, yet for all this you go forward with this your invincible courage, to join with your virtue the knowledge of most excellent sciences; and con¬ tenting yourself with your own pleasure in learning, you never hunt after vulgar praises, nor receive them willingly, though they be offered you ; and for your singular piety and love towards me, you esteem me and your husband a sufficient and ample theatre HIS CHILDREN. 27 for you to content you with: who, in requital of this your affec¬ tion, beseech God and our Lady, with as hearty prayers as possible we can pour out, to give you an easy and happy childbirth, to in¬ crease your family with a child most like yourself, except only in sex : yet if it be a wench, that it may be such a one, as would in time recompense by imitation of her mother’s learning and virtues, what by the condition of her sex may be wanting; such a wench I should prefer before thi'ee hoys.” “ But see I pray you, (continues her grandson,) how a most learned Bishop in England was ravished with her learning and wit, as it appeareth by this letter, which her father wrote unto her to certify her thereof. “ Thomas More sendeth hearty greeting to his dearest daughter Margaret : “ I will let pass to tell you, my sweetest daughter, how much your letter delighted me ; you may imagine how exceedingly it pleased your father, when you understand what affection the read¬ ing of it raised in a stranger. It happened with me this evening to sit with John, Lord Bishop of Exeter, a learned man, and by all men’s judgment, a most sincere man : as we were talking to¬ gether, and I taking out of my pocket a paper, which was to the purpose we were talking of, I pulled out, by chance, therewith, your letter. The hand-writing pleasing him, he took it from me and looked on it; when he perceived it by the salutation to be a woman’s, he began more greedily to read it, novelty inviting him thereunto : but when he had read it, and understood that it was your writing—which he never could have believed, if I had not seriously affirmed it—such a letter—I will say no more—yet why should not I report that which he said unto me ? so pure a stile, so good latin, so eloquent, so full of sweet affections ! he was marvelously ravished with it ! When he perceived that I brought forth also an oration of yours, which he reading, and also many of your verses, he was so moved with the matter so unlooked for, that the very countenance and gesture of the man, free from all flattery and deceit, bewrayed what his mind was, more than his words could utter; although he uttered many to your great praise. And forthwith, he drew out of his pocket a portegue , the which you shall receive enclosed herein. I could not possibly shun the taking of it, but he would needs send it unto you, as a sign of his dear 28 SIR T. MORE. affection towards you, although by all means I endeavoured to give him it again; which was the cause I shewed him none of your other sisters’ works; for I was afraid least I should have been thought to have shewed them of purpose, because he should be¬ stow the like curtesy upon them; for it troubled me sore that I must needs take this of him : but he is so worthy a man, as I have said, that it is a happiness to please him thus. Write carefully unto him, and as eloquently as you are able, to give him thanks there¬ fore. Farewell; from the court this nth of September, even al¬ most at midnight.” “ Yet one other letter, (says the same authority,) I will set down of Sir Thomas to this his daughter, which is thus : “ Thomas More sendeth greeting to his dearest daughter Margaret. ‘ rhere was no reason, my dearest daughter, why thou shouldest have deferred thy writing unto me one day longer, for fear that thy letters being so barren, should not be read of me without loathing. For though they had not been most curious, yet in respect of thy sex, thou mightest have been pardoned by any man; yea even a blemish m the child’s face, seemeth often to a father beautiful. But these your letters, Meg, were so eloquently polished, that they had nothing m them, not only why they should fear the most in¬ dulgent affection of your father More, but also they needed not to have regarded even Momus his censure, though never so testv. greatly thank Mr. Nicolas, our dear friend (a most expert man in astronomy) and do congratulate your happiness, whom it may for¬ tune within the space of one month, with a small labour of your own, to learn so many and such high wonders of that mighty and eternal workman, which were not found but in many ages, by watch¬ ing m so many cold nights under the open skies, with much labour .n, wT S ’ Sis UC h'' T an<3 ab ° Ve aI ‘ ° ther men ’ S und ema„d- ng wits. This which you write, pleaseth me exceedingly that you had determined with yourself to study philosophy so diligendy tha you will hereafter recompense by your diligence w lJZur neghgence hath heretofore lost you. I love you for tWs’ Z C that whereas I never have found you to be a loiterer (your learning’ which is not ordinary, but in all kind of sciences most exceHent negligence, than vainly boast of diligence; except youTelfby HIS CHILDREN. 29 this your speech that you will be hereafter so diligent, that your for¬ mer endeavours, though indeed they were great and praiseworthy, yet in respect of your future diligence, may be called negligence. If it be so that you mean, (as I do verily think you do,) I imagine nothing can happen to me more fortunate; nothing to you, my dearest daughter, more happy : for as I have earnestly wished that you might spend the rest of your life in studying physic, and holy scriptures, by the which there shall never be helps wanting unto you, for the end of man’s life ; which is, to endeavour that a sound mind be in a healthful body, of which studies you have already laid some foundations, and you shall never want matter to build thereupon. So now I think that some of the first years of your youth yet flourishing may be very well bestowed in human learn¬ ing and the liberal arts, both because your age may best struggle with those difficulties, and for that it is uncertain, whether at any time else we shall have the commodity of so careful, so loving, and so learned a master : to let pass that, by this kind of learning, our judgments are either gotten, or certainly much helped thereby. I could wish, dear Meg, that I might talk with you a long time about these matters, but behold they which bring in supper, interrupt me and call me away. My supper cannot be so sweet unto me, as this my speech with you is, if I were not to respect others more than myself. Farewell, dearest daughter, and commend me kindly to your husband, my loving son; who maketh me rejoice for that he studieth the same things you do. And whereas I am wont always to counsel you to give place to your husband, now, on the other side, I give you license to strive to master him in the know¬ ledge of the sphere. Farewell again and again. Commend me to all your school-fellows, but to your master especially.” We are told by this devout biographer of Sir Thomas, that “On a time his daughter Margaret fell sick of the sweating-sickness,* of which many died at that time ; who, * This distemper first began in the year 1483, in Henry the Vllth’s, army, upon its landing at Milford-haven, and spread itself in London, from the 21st. of September to the end of October. It returned five times, and always in summer: first, in 1485—then in 1506 ; afterwards in 1517 ; when it was so violent, that the patient died in the space of three hours. It appeared the fourth time in 1520, and again in 1528, (which seems to have been the time when More’s daughter had it) 30 SIR T. MORE. lying in so great extremity of the disease, that, by no in¬ ventions nor devises that any cunning physician could use, at that time having continually about her the most learned, wise, and expert that could be gotten, she could by no means be kept from sleep ; so that every one about her had just cause to despair of her recovery, giving her utterly over. Her father, as he that most loved her, being in no small heaviness, at last sought for remedy of this her desperate case from God. Wherefore going, as his custom was, into his new building—there, in his chapel, upon his knees most devoutly even with many tears besought Almighty God, unto whom nothing was impossible, if it were his blessed will, that at his mediation he would vouchsafe graciously to grant this his humble petition.” The result of this supplication was, the suggestion (on the part of More) of a simple but efficacious remedy, which had entirely escaped the physicians, and which effected the cure of his daughter. The reader, if he be not wearied with the foregoing ex¬ tracts, has now only to contemplate this amiable and exem¬ plary character, in the last scene of her beloved father’s sufferings—and in this, it must be confessed, that her beha¬ viour bore every mark of the severest mental distraction. She acted, indeed, a conspicuous and trying part; for, of all More’s family, she alone seems to have the most justly ap¬ preciated the worth of her parent. when it proved mortal in the space of six hours. The manner of its seizure was thus ; first, it affected some particular part, attended with nward heat and burning, unquenchable thirst, restlessness, sickness at stomach and heart, (though seldom vomiting), head-ach, delirium, then faintness and excessive drowsiness. The pulse quick and vehe¬ ment, and the breath short and labouring. None recovered under twenty-four hours. The only care was to carry on the sweat, which was necessary for a long time : sleep to be avoided by all means.” Dr. Friend’s History of Physic, vol. ii. 335. HIS CHILDREN. 3i “When More had remained with great cheerfulness about a month’s space in the Tower, his daughter MARGARET, longing sore to see her father, made earnest suit, and at last got leave to go to see him : at whose coming, after they had said together the Seven Psalms, and Litanies, (which he used always to say with her, when she came thither, before he would fall in talk of any worldly matters, to the intent he might commend all his words to Almighty God’s honour and glory), amongst other speeches he said thus unto her : “ I believe, Meg, that they who have put me here, think they have done me a high displeasure ; but I assure thee on my faith, mine own good daughter, that if it had not been for my wife, and you my children, whom I account the chief part of my charge, I would not have failed long ere this to have closed myself in as strait a room as this, and straiter too ; now since I am come hither without mine own desert, I trust that God of his goodness will discharge me of my care, and with his gracious help supply the want of my pre¬ sence amongst you ; and I find no cause, I thank God, to reckon myself here in worse case than in mine own house ; for methinks, God, by this imprisonment, maketh me one of his wantons, and setteth me upon his lap and dandleth me, even as he hath done all his best friends, St. John Bap¬ tist, St. Peter, St. Paul, and all his holy apostles, martyrs, and his most especial favourites, whose examples God make me worthy to imitate !” His daughter, without sufficiently considering how con¬ scientiously he had refused to take the oath of supremacy, “ forcibly urged him with many reasons and motives to the taking of this oath, that they might enjoy his presence at his house at Chelsea.” More answered all her arguments very methodically, but remained immovable. “ After all this, she sought to fright him with the danger of death, which might perhaps move him to relentbut a 32 SIR T. MORE. mind like More’s, which had uniformly displayed a contempt of all worldly honours, was not to be shaken by this natural, but unphilosophical, appeal to his passions. “ At another time, when he had questioned his daughter about her mother, her children, and the state of his house in his absence, he asked her at last— How Queen Anne * did?’ ’ “ In faith, father, said she, never better :—there is nothing else in the court but dancing and sporting.” “ Never better ? ” (said he), “alas Meg, alas ! it pitieth me to remember unto what misery, poor soul, she will shortly come. These dances of hers will prove such dances, that she will spurn our heads off like footballs ; but it will not be long ere her head will dance the like dance !” The melancholy end of the Queen sufficiently proved the truth of this prediction. But the trying scene is yet to be described. “ When Sir Thomas was come now to the Tower-wharf, his best be¬ loved child, my aunt Roper, desirous to see her father, whom she feared she should never see in this world after, to have his last blessing, gave there attendance to meet him ; who, as soon as she had espied, after she had received upon her knees his fatherly blessing, she ran hastily unto him ; and without consideration or care of herself, passing through the midst of the throng and guard of men, who with bills and halberds compassed him round, there openly in the sight of them all, embraced him j took him about the neck and kis¬ sed him, not able to say any word but, Oh my Father , Oh my Father /” “ He > likl * n g wel1 her most natural and dear affection to¬ wards him, gave her his fatherly blessing; telling her, that whatsoever he should suffer, though he were innocent, yet it was not without the will of God ; and that she knew well enough all the secrets of his heart, counselling her to accom- * Anne Bullen. HIS CHILDREN. 33 modate her will to God’s blessed pleasure, and bade her be patient for her loss.” “ She was no sooner parted from him, and gone ten steps, when she, not satisfied with the former farewell, like one who had forgot herself, ravished with the entire love of so worthy a father, having neither respect to herself, nor to the press of the people about him, suddenly turned back, and ran hastily to him, took him about the neck, and divers times to¬ gether kissed him ; whereat he spoke not a word, but carry¬ ing still his gravity, tears fell also from his eyes ; yea, there were very few in all the troop, who could refrain hereat from weeping ; no, not the guard themselves : yet at last, with a full heavy heart, she was severed from him.” “ Oh ! what a spectacle was this, to see a woman, of na¬ ture shamefast, by education modest, to express such ex¬ cessive grief, as that love should make her shake off all fear and shame ! which doleful sight, piercing the hearts of all beholders, how do you think it moved her fathers ? Surely his affection and forcible love would have daunted his cou¬ rage, if that a divine spirit of constancy had not inspired him to behold this most generous woman, his most worthy daughter, endowed with all good gifts of nature, all sparks of piety, which are wont to be most acceptable to a loving father, to press unto him at such a time and place, where no man could have access, hanging about his neck before he perceived, holding so fast by him as she could scarce be plucked off, not uttering any other words, but Oh my Father! What a sword was this to his heart! and at last, being drawn away by force, to run upon him again without any regard either of the weapons wherewith he was compassed, or of the modesty becoming her own sex. What comfort did he want! what courage did he then stand in need of! and yet he resisted all this most courageously, remitting nothing of his steady gravity, speaking only that which we have re- C 34 SIR T. MORE. cited before, and at last desiring her to pray for her father’s soul.”* I shall close my account of this amiable and excellent woman, with the last letter written to her by her father, the day before he suffered ; and which few will read unmoved. It was first, I believe, printed in the folio edition of More’s English Works by Tottel, 1557 ; and may be found at the end of Mr. Lewis’s edition of Rooper’s life of Sir Thomas. “ Written with a coal to his daughter , Mistress Rooper , and sent to her ; which was the last thing that ever he wrote. “ Our Lord bless you, good daughter ! and your good husband, and your little boy, and all yours, and all my children, and all my god-children, and all our friends ! Recommend me, when ye may, to my good daughter Cicely , whom I beseech our Lord to comfort. And I send her my blessing, and to all her children, and pray her to pray for me. I send her an handkercher : and God comfort my good son her husband ! “ My good daughter Daunce hath the picture in parchment that you delivered me from my Lady Conyers ; her name is on the back¬ side. Shew her that I heartily pray her, that you may send it in my name to her again, for a token from me, to pray for me. I like special well Dorothy Coly ; I pray you be good unto her. I would wit whether this be she that you wrote me of: if not, yet I pray you be good to the other, as you may in her affliction, and to my good daughter Joanp Aleyn too. Give her, I pray you, some kind answer, for she sued hither to me this day to pray you, be good to her. I cumber you, good Margaret, much ; but I would be sorry it should be any longer than to-morrow—for it is Saint Thomas even, and the Utas of Saint Peter; and, therefore, to-morrow long I to go to God : it were a day very meet and convenient for me ! * The above circumstances are all described, or alluded to, by Stapleton, Roper, and Hoddesdon. Stapleton’s account is beautiful and touching—the Latin narrative has here a decided superiority over the English. See also a Latin epistle, by Nucerinus, " De Morte D. Thomae Mori et Episcopi Roffensis,” subjoined to the Basil edition of More’s Utopia, 1563. p. 518. t One of the Servants of his daughter Margaret. HIS CHILDREN. 35 “ I never liked your manner better, than when you kissed* me last: for I love, when daughterly love and dear charity hath no leisure to look to worldly courtesy. Farewell, my dear child, and pray for me ! and I shall for you, and all your dear friends, that we may merrily meet in heaven ! I thank you for your great cost. I send now my good daughter Clement her algorisme stone ; and I send her, and my god-son, and all hers, God’s blessing and mine ! I pray you, at time convenient, recommend me to my good son, John More. I liked well his natural fashion, f Our Lord bless him, and his good wife, my loving daughter, to whom I pray him to be good, as he hath great cause ; and that if the land of mine come to his hand, he break not my will concerning his sister 'Daunce. And our Lord bless Thomas , and Austen, and all that they shall have.” Margaret was married, during her father’s lifetime, to WILLIAM Rooper,^ Esq., Prothonotary of the court of * Alluding to her conduct on Tower-hill, noticed at p. 32. f His begging the blessing of Sir Thomas, when the latter returned from receiving judgment. J Rooper lived thirty-three years a widower, after the decease of his wife, and died in January, 1557, in his eighty-second year. He was buried in the same grave with his beloved Margaret. As his epi¬ taph, which was legible in Somner’s time, and which has been given us by this antiquary, is now totally illegible, perhaps it may be accept¬ able to the reader—and not the less so, if given in its ancient Gothic character, as printed by Mr. Lewis : jacet fcenerabilt0 tt %. 4Pote. Being an Account of the various Lives that have been published of him. HERE are few celebrated characters of anti¬ quity of whom so many amusing and familiar anecdotes are extant, as of Sir Thomas More ; and what gives them an additional zest, is, the apparent fidelity with which they are re¬ lated. Plutarch enlivens the pages of his biography by the little anecdotes or sayings which he introduces, con¬ nected with the hero of his story. Thus, when we are told that Alcibiades,* in his boyish years, on fighting with a youth, and being accused of biting his opponent like a wo¬ man, exclaimed, that he “ bit like a lion ”—we have as strong an idea of the spirit and quickness of this extraordinary character, as if we had been amused with a formal account of feats of arms, or of studied harangues. Also when we are told of the brilliant remarks, and witty equivoques, of our author, we imagine ourselves to be as thoroughly con¬ versant with his character, as if we had lived among his contemporaries. * “ Aa/ A\KLj3idSrj KaOdivep at ywatxes' Ovk eyojye, et7T€t' > aA/V ws oi \eovrcs.” — Pint. Vhce. edit. Bryan, vol. ii. p. 7. 33 SIR T. MORE. This species of biography is, of all others, if truth be rigidly attended to, the most delightful and satisfactory. Like the master touches of an artist, on the prominent points of a pic¬ ture, these anecdotes give a decision and effect, which elabo¬ rate recitals are incapable of producing. They remind us of the spirit of Reynolds contrasted with the tame finishing of Hudson ! Of all biographical productions, what is compar¬ able with Boswell’s Life of Johnson—which will be forgotten only with our language ? Who can turn from the original thoughts, the acute remarks, and the powerful declamation with which this piece of biography abounds, to the cold and ponderous pages of Fiddes, or the laboured yet punctiliously accurate volumes of Hearne ? True it is, some lovers of English biography may still have much to lament in regard to the biography of More. Those who would gladly have been better acquainted with his political life—with his parliamentary speeches_with his judicial decrees with his writings and history as an ambas¬ sador and courtier—may regret that so little of these things has been recorded, when, perhaps, so much might have been successfully detailed. But, in the ravages which time is hourly committing upon learning, and while even now, with all the boasted privileges of the press, and of a more ad¬ vanced period of civilization, we witness the indifference shewn to valuable works, and the preservation of foolish and unprofitable ones—it becomes us rather to receive what has been handed down to us with gratitude, than to sigh with impatient ardour for more. If we consider the peculiar Character of the time * when our author wrote, [when reli¬ gious fanaticism was pretty nearly at its height,] it may supnse us that so much has been preserved, rather than that so much should have been lost. I will, however, no longer detain the reader with the formality of these preliminary remarks but enter upon the subject matter of this division of the “Introduction.” HIS BIOGRAPHY. 39 A. D. 15 50. “Historia aliquot nostri Seculi Martyrum, viz. THOIVLE Mori, Joan. Fischeri, &c. 4to. 1550. This work is noticed on the authority of Mr. Lewis, (Pre¬ face to Rooper’s Life of Sir T. M. p. 1. note.) but I have never seen a copy of it. It appears to be the first printed piece of biography* of our author. A. D. 1588. “ Tres Thomae, seu De S. Thomae Apostoli rebus gestis. De S. Thomae Archiepiscopo Cantuarensi, et Martyre. D. Thoivle Mori, Angliae quondam Cancellarii Vita, &c. Au- thore Thoma Stapletono, Anglo. S. Theolog. Doctore. Dnaci , Ex Officina Joannis Bogardi , CIO.IO.LXXXVIII. 8vo.*f* This is a very rare book. It was written by Dr. Thomas Stapleton,J and is called by Granger, “ the most curious of his works.” The title-page is succeeded by a dedication to J. SARRAZINUS ; on the back of the last page of which, be¬ gins a short chapter of Contents. Then follows the account of St. Thomas the Apostle, and of Thomas a Becket, Arch- * The death of More was minutely related in a small 8vo. volume, which appeared the year after his execution, under the following title. “ Expositio fidelis de Morte D. Thomae Mori et quorundam aliorum insignium Virorum in Anglia. — Antwerp. 1536. 8vo. See Bibi. Paris. No. 573. Crofts, No. 7283.— Sir H. Eliis. t MS. Harl. 6253, is a Paper book of in written leaves; entitled “ The Life and Death of Sir Thomas Moore, Knight, sometyme Lord High Chancellor of England.” The author dedicates his booke to Mr. William Rooper. Among some engraved portraits which it con¬ tains is Sir Thomas More’s, by Elstrack, opposite to the Title. The author (Nicholas Harpsfield ?) signs his dedication N. H : L:D. MSS. of Roper’s Life of Sir Thomas occur in the same Collection, No. 6254, 6362, 7030. A very old engraved portrait of Sir Thomas is prefixed to the first of these numbers. There is a copy of the Life of More, the same as MS. Harl. 6253 in Eman. Coll. Library.—Sir H. Ellis. J The Editor of that facetious and truly original book of Travels, called “Coryat’s Crudities ,” has contrived to refer to Stapleton’s work, in the following manner. “ D. Stapleton hath written a booke 40 SIR T. MORE. bishop of Canterbury, comprising one hundred and sixty- eight pages. More’S Life comprehends three hundred and seventy-five pages, separately numbered, with a portrait piefixed , at the back of which is “ Authoris Epigramma ad Effigiem.” A funeral Oration upon Arnoldus De Ganthois, of twenty pages (unnumbered), concludes the volume. Stapleton’s life is, upon the whole, a valuable and ele¬ gantly written composition. The principles of the author, as a Catholic, must always be remembered in the opinions' and descriptions given of persons and events. Wood is wrong in saying that it is “ mostly taken from that written by Rooper,” as there are many original passages in it • and in those common to both lives, the narrative of Stapleton is more interesting and spirited : indeed this latter editor is allowed by his Protestant opponents “ to have been the most acute and accurate of his party.” See an account of the Author in Wood’s Athen. Oxon. vol. i. col. 2 9 2 , 3 ._Granger’s Hist. Eng. vol. i. 224. This work was reprinted at Cologne in t 599 , according to * and a &am, at the same place, in 1612. 8vo, accord- g ° ewis. It was also reprinted in the Leipsic edition of Mores Latin Works, 1689, folio.* t( A. D. 1626. Lif7o h A M T R0R ° F VlRTUE in W ° rldIy £ reatnes ' or the England.” 1 " ^ ° f This edition is noticed by Wood and Hearne, as bein^ b of the ^comprised in tribus 7W,” See the edit, of .„ 6 . st V 7’l sign! by “ Fernand b o a de Hemri»' 5 » HIS BIOGRAPHY. 4i printed in 1616; but Mr. Lewis, (Preface to Rooper’s Life, p. 24.) tells us that it was printed in 1626, and that it is a transcript “ of a faulty MS. of Mr. Rooper’s, or else is altered by the editor, T. P.” It is not a common book. A. D. (circ. 1627.) “D. O. M. S. The Life and Death of Sir Thomas Moore, Lord High Chancellour of England. Written by M. T. M. and dedicated to the Queen’s most gracious Majestie.” 4to. No date, nor place subjoined ; but it is supposed to have been printed abroad. This is the celebrated life of More, which was written by his Great Grandson, who died about the year 1625.* It opens with the following Dedication. “To the High and Mightie Princesse, our most gratious Queene and Soveraigne Marie HENRIETTE, Queen of Great Britaine, France, and Irland, Ladie of the lies of the British Ocean. Most Gratious and Soveraigne Ladie y “ The authour of this Treatise, eldest Sonne by descent, and heire by nature of the family of that worthy Martyr, whose life is described in it; had he lived himself to have set it forth to the view of Christian eies, would not have thought upon any other patron and protectour to dedicate it unto, then your most excellent Majestie. For he was most constantly affected always to the French nation and crowne, *In the reprint of this life, (vide sub. an. 1726), it is said that the author of it “ was a person of consideration and character, the agent of the English clergy in Spain, and at the court of Rome, and a zealous assertor of the Pope’s supremacy. And indeed he managed with such application and integrity in the business of his employment, that upon his leaving the world, the English Roman Catholic clergy erected a monument over his ashes at their own expence, as the testimony of the respect they bore him, and the sense they had of his services. He lies buried in the church of St. Lewis at Rome.” Pref. iv. 42 SIR T. MORE. next after the dutifull obedience which he ought to his owne natural soveraigne Lord and Soveraigne. And this his affection did he manifest on all occasions, but especiallie in the treatie of the happy marriage of your highnes, with the King our soveraigne Lord and Maister, assembling at his owne costes and charges with unwearied industry, all the English persons of note and esteeme, that then were in and about Rome, and with them all, [as the mouth of them all] supplicating to his Holines for the dispatch of this most hope-full and happie contract, yeelding such reasons for the effecting thereof, as highlie pleased the chief Pastour of the Churche under Christ our Saviour. The same affection did he testifie sufficientlie in the last period of his life, leaving his bodie to be buried in the French church, where with great content of the French Nobilitie it lieth interred, &c.” [This is the whole of the Dedication which is interesting, as relating to the author; it continues for three pages more.] The Preface to the Reader,” which gives an interesting account of the author and of the work, follows the Dedica¬ tion. The first page of the preface is numbered i, and the numbering continues regularly from thence to the end of the volume, which, exclusively of the Dedication, compre¬ hends four hundred and thirty-two pages. The “twelfth Chapter, relating to the Life of Sir Thomas, ends at p. 392. the remainder of the work is devoted to an account “ Of Sir Thomas More’s Bookes.” We are told by the Editor of its re-publication, [see A. D. 1726.] that “’twas so greedily sought after upon its first publication, that in Mr. Wood’s time, f was scarce to be had; and it appears from the few sheets of Sir Thomas More’s hfe, which Dr. Fiddes has left behind him, that, notwith- proper materials for the compi mg of his history, he had never seen it.” Of its scarcity and intrinsic merit there can be but one opinion. HIS BIOGRAPHY. 43 It is, in every respect, the most valuable piece of biography extant of More. A copy of it occurs in the Bibl. Harl. vol. iv. No. 9089. with MS. notes. I have been favoured with the loan of one, to make these observations, from the curious collection of Mr. Stace, the bookseller; who was fortunate enough to obtain two copies in very fine condition. A.D. 1652. 1662. “Tho. Mori Vita et Exitus: or the History of Sir Thomas More, sometime Lord High Chancellor of Eng¬ land. Collected out of several Authors, By J. H. [John Hoddesdon,] Gent. London, Printed by E. Cotes, for George Eversden, at the Golden Ball, in Aldersgate street, 1652. 8vo. 1662. i2mo. Anthony Wood and Mr. Lewis notice only the second edition of this work : the first is rather a rare book. A copy of each (the first with a portrait prefixed, unknown to Granger, and formerly belonging to Mr. Thomas Baker) is in my possession. It opens with the following quaintly written dedication. “To my worthily most honoured Kinsman, C. HODDES- DON, Esq. Dear Sir, “Besides the Obligation I have to you by Nature, your Good- nesse hath given you the greatest interest that may be in my time and Studies; of which, if I have made any improve¬ ment, it is purely the Product & Influence of your Favour: The sense hereof hath made me prefix your name to this en- devor of mine, upon no other designe then to make a publique profession that myself & studies hold of you as of the chief Lord. And if the pettiness of what I tender you here, be apt to disable the justice of mine acknowledgements, you can in¬ form yourself that a Rose or a pound of Cummin, hath often been all the Rent service that hath been reserved upon estates of no inconsiderable value. 44 SIR T. MORE. “That, that I here present you with, is the Life of Sir Thomas More, one of the greatest ornaments of the law ; a man of those high employments, and so great parts to goe through them, that he can be no stranger to you, nor doubt of a kinde reception, especially seeing you are of as eminent cour- tesie as parts ; I shall not venture to give any further Cha¬ racter of him or commend him to you, but rather on the contrary expect that he will plead the boldnesse of my Dedica¬ tion, and assure myself a favourable acceptance of my poor labours from his vast worth. “Sir, I have dealt with him as his nurse did*—thrown him over the hedge into your Armes, lest his memory should perish in the waters of Lethe : Or as some common Souldier, who if he have but common civilitie, finding some person of great quality lying amongst the dead bodies and ready to be¬ come one of them, will make a shift with a rude charity to lugger him out of the field, and think him self sufficiently rewarded with the honour of preserving his life: /, [as I travelled over the Memorials of the ancient Heroes] met with this worthy Knight breathing his last in the field of honour, and an ordinary sense of humanity mgaged me [though un¬ worthy that office ] to rescue him from oblivion ; and hand¬ somely I confesse, but excusably, because I could no better ; my weak capacity, in the very beginning of this enterprize, being overwhelmed with the plenty and copiousnesse of the subject. I am confident, King Henry the Eight was not so much his enemy, as to forbid posterity to think w ell of him ; nor his sentence so severe, as to condemne his Name, as well as his Body, to an execution; his Name no more deserved to die, then my pen does to preserve it; yet [which affords me some comfort ] what the Reader wants in this Book, heed finde in his Life: with which also (I hope) I have a good plea for the * See p. 18 before. HIS BIOGRAPHY. 45 iuconsiderablenesse of any thing , which I can offer in returne of all those obligations yon have been pleased to lay upon me, which since I am never able to wipe off by strict andpunctuall satisfaction, I presume your goodnesse will by a favorable acceptation hold me discharg'd in Chancery : I am Sir, Your most affectionate Kinsman, To serve & honour you, J. H. The author of this publication is rightly supposed by Wood to have taken his materials from the foregoing works: indeed the title page expresses this. It may be called rather an interesting abridgment of the principal events of More’s life. The biography extends only to page 134: the re¬ maining sixteen pages are devoted to “A View of Sir Thomas More’s Wit and Wisdome,” and to “ some few of his Apothegmes, collected out of Dr. Stapleton.” The first edition is a small crown octavo volume, tolerably well printed ; the second is a reprint of the first, in duodecimo, but it is very indifferently executed. A.D. 1716. “Gulielmi Roperi Vita D. Thomae Mori, Equitis Au¬ rati, lingua Anglicana contexta. E Codice MS. penes Edv. Bartonum e Collegio Orielensi, Oxonise. 8vo. Oxon. 1716. Edited by Hearne. At p. 59. there is “ A letter of More to the University of Oxford, against those scholastic dispu¬ tants, who, calling themselves Trojans, attacked all the liberal arts, particularly Grsecian; contending they should be held in disrespect, and reprobating those who cultivated them.” This is an uncommon book. It was the first publication of the interesting life of Sir T. More, by his son-in-law, ROOPER ; and although in purity of text, and importance of materials, it is somewhat eclipsed by Mr. Lewis’s edition of 4 6 SIR T. MORE. the same life, yet it should be possessed by all those to whom the name of More is dear. A.D. 1726. “The Life of Sir Thomas More, Knight, Lord High Chancellour of England under K. Henry the Eighth, and His Majesty’s Embassadour to the Courts of France and Germany. By his Great-Grandson, Thomas More, Esq. London : printed for James Woodman and David Lyon, in Russel Street, Covent Garden, M.DCC.XXVI. 8vo. This is a very faithful reprint of the 4to edition of 1627, containing a new and judicious preface, some short notes at the bottom of the page, and an index. The editor, of whose name and chai acter I am ignorant, thus observes of his work at p. xvii. of the preface. “To make it as useful as might be, I have been at the pains to compare it with the several lives of Sir Thomas More, which have been given to us by others, and have made references in the margin to the several places where the like fact is related. (The lives by Rooper and Stapleton are then alluded to.) And I may safely affirm, there is no circumstance of any moment taken notice of by either of these, that is not to be met with in the book before us. Mr. Hoddesdon’s history is less to be accounted of; ’tis a bare abstract taken from our author, and the two writers we have mentioned above. But that the leader might be deprived of no satisfaction, it is also referred to among the rest. This edition is very neatly and accurately printed, and the notes give it a decided preference to the 4to. edit, of 1627 ; however it may yield to it in rarity. It was reviewed, and copious extracts were made from it, in the New Me¬ moirs of Literature, vol. iii. p. 143. 161. A - D - l 7* 9. 1731. 1765. “The Life and Death of Sir Thomas More, Knight, Lord High-Chancellor of England, in the reign of King HIS BIOGRAPHY. 47 Henry the VUIth. Written by William Rooper, Esq. Prothonotary of the King’s Bench. To which are added, Some Original Letters referred to in the Account of his Life.” London, 8vo. 1729. 1731. With a Head. Dublin, 8vo. 1765. I have placed these editions together, because the two latter are reprints of the first. The Editor is Mr. I. LEWIS : sufficiently known by his Life of Caxton, and other anti¬ quarian publications. This is the same piece of biography as was written by More’s son-in-law, Rooper, which Hearne has published ; but this edition of it is in many respects su¬ perior to it. “ As to the present edition of this life of Sir Thomas,” (says Mr. Lewis at p. 22. of his Preface,) “I assure the reader its an exact copy of a MS. of it which I had from a neigh¬ bouring gentleman. It is very fairly written in the hand in common use in K. Henry VIII. and Q. Elizabeth’s reign, about the beginning of which it seems to have been com¬ posed by Mr. Rooper, who was then about sixty five years old. I have compared it,” continues Mr. Lewis, “ with the late edition of his life by Mr. Hearne from his Nonpareil MS,* and, excepting in two places, where that MS. seems to claim the preference, it’s very plain, that this is much more complete and perfect than the other, as representing intelli¬ gibly what in Hearne’s edition is downright nonsense.” Mr. Lewis then gives a few specimens of the variations of the MSS ; from which the superiority of his own is incon¬ testably proved. His edition also has the advantage of “ having such passages in the margin taken from Erasmus, and Sir Thomas’s own works , [printed by Tottle,] as seemed * “ At the beginning of it, Hearne tells us, is this little note —“ in hoc signo ‘vinces ” —This, he critically observes, is a sufficient proof that it was either copied from the original, or from some copy of great note — risum teneatis ?” concludes Mr. Lewis ! 48 SIR T. MORE. to the Editor to give light to the history.”—The letters at the end of the life, taken from the latter source, [now one of the rarest books in English literature] give an additional in¬ terest to the performance. “ Mr. Roper's life of his venerable father-in-law,” says Mr. Seward, “ is one of the few pieces of natural biography that we have in our language, and must be perused with great pleasure by those who love antient times, antient manners, and antient virtues.” See his Anecdotes, vol. i. 89. edit. 1804. All these editions of Rooper’s Life of More are rather scarce.' A. D. 1758. “ Mem01rs of the Life of Sir Thomas More, Lord High Chancellor of England, in the reign of Henry VIII. [Pre¬ fixed to an edition of the Utopia.] By Fred. Warner, LLD.” London, 8vo. M.dcc.lviii. This is, perhaps, the most common edition of More’s life. It is preceded by an elegantly penned Dedication to Sir Robert Henley, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal ; in which the merits of our author and of his Utopia, are stated, upon the whole, with candour and discernment. In the Life, no references or notes are given; and although the narrative wants that naivete and simplicity which characterise the preceding compositions, yet the principal features of our author s character are delineated with sufficient interest and A. D. 1807. “Lives of British Statesmen. By John Macdiarmid, sq. Author of an Inquiry into the System of National efence m Great Britain, and of an Inquiry into the Prin- HurTt R Ub ° r J" atl0n - London : tinted for Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme, 1807. 4to.” CeSw Cl ? ant , W ° rk corn prehends the Lives of More, twenty one ’C Hyde ’ the first one hundred and nty-one pages being devoted to the former Statesman. HIS BIOGRAPHY. 49 Mr. Macdiarmid makes the life of our author rather instru¬ mental to political narrative and opinions, than to private and domestic anecdotes. Many beautiful speeches, and many interesting traits of character are, however, recorded by him ; and whatever is mentioned, is mentioned with a purity and eloquence of diction of which we have now few examples. The character of More (for it is not my pro¬ vince to speak of the other pieces of biography contained in the volume), is justly appreciated and vigorously drawn. In the Appendix, are some amusing particulars relating to our author; but in enumerating his English Works, Mr. M. does not appear to have been aware that these are described more copiously by Oldys in his British Librarian, p. 194. No. IV. A.D. 1808. “ Memoirs of Sir Thomas More ; with a new Translation of his Utopia, his King Richard III, and his Latin Poems. By Arthur Cayley, the younger, Esq. London, 1808. 2 vols. 4to. Cadell and Davies. The first volume of this recent publication is appropri¬ ated to the Life of Sir Thomas More ; the second, to a new translation of the Utopia—which will be noticed hereafter. The Author is known by his Life of Sir Walter Raleigh ; which, as well as the present work, is extremely creditable to his talents. All the early poetry of More is judiciously interwoven in the narrative, and the principal events of his life are described from the best sources of information. The Appendix contains the Latin letters and Latin Poetry of More : but of his English works, rather a scanty catalogue is given. Neither Mr. Cayley, nor Mr. Macdiarmid, seem to have been aware of Oldys’s British Librarian. D 50 SIR T. MORE. In the preceding account of Sir T. More, the reader will observe that I have confined myself only to those Lives of him which have been separately published ; and that I have purposely omitted the mention of such as are incorporated in Dictionaries and Encyclopaedias. It may be worth while here to observe that Sir Thomas More has formed the subject of a Tragedy, written by the Author of the Village Curate, the late Mr. Hurdis. Lond 8vo. 1793 . Second edit. pp. 132. The following are the Characters. Henry VIII. Sir John More, Father to Sir Thomas. Tunsi all, Bishop of Durham. Duke of Norfolk. Bonvise. Sir Thomas More. Roper. Dancy. Lady More. Margaret. Eliza. Cecilia. Anne Bullen. The following may be considered a talents of the author. fair specimen of the ^CT V. Scene change tne l ower. Sir Thomas aloiie. Such is my home-a gloomy tenement, And solitary as the peasant’s hut Upon the barren mountain. Not a soul Deigns me a visit. All my company HIS BIOGRAPHY. 5i Are toiling spiders, who consume the day In spreading nets to catch the harmless fly, An emblem of myself. For what am I But a poor, helpless, weather-beaten insect, That sought for shelter in the lowly shed, And found within the spider tyranny. Sometimes a mouse attends me for my crumbs. I bid him welcome, but the whisker’d fool Is still suspicious that I mean him wrong. How kind was nature, when she made the brute, To make him cautious how he trusted man ! For such a tyrant is he, that he whets The murd’rous dagger often for himself, And ever for his brother; sparing none, His neighbour, or his kinsman, or his friend. ’Tis all his business to destroy himself, And all his sport to trample on the brute. Track him in all his ways, in war, in peace, Seeking renown upon the battle’s edge, Amusement in the closet or the field, His footsteps are all mark’d with savage bloodshed. Philosophy and Faith have each their sword, And murder, one for wisdom, one for truth. The paths of glory are the paths of blood, And what are heroes and aspiring kings But butchers ! Has not ev’ry prince his knife, His slaughter-house, and victim ? What am I But a poor lamb selected from the flock, To be the next that bleeds, where many a lamb, As innocent and guiltless as myself, Has bled before me ? On this floor perhaps The persecuted Harry breath’d his last Under the sword of Gloster. Clarence here Drank his last draught of Malmsey, and his son, Poor hapless boy, pin’d infancy away; All his acquaintance, sorrow and himself: And all the world he knew, this little room. Yes, here he sat, and long’d for liberty, Which never found him : ending his sad youth Under the tyrant’s axe. And here perhaps 52 SIR T. MORE. Assassination, at the dead of night, With silent footstep, and extended arm, Feeling her way to the remember’d bed, Found the two breathing princes fast asleep, And did her bloody work without remorse. O horrible to think of ! Such is man. No beast, whose appetite is ever blood, Wants mercy more. Shall I escape him ? No. No Marg’ret, no my daughter, no Eliza, No my good girl, Cecilia. I must die And leave my widow and my house to mourn. Sonow will overtake you, grievous loss, Plunder, and beggary. Would that my eyes Might once more see you all before I go. Ha ! what art thou ? Have I obtain’d my prayer ? Tis m y dear Marg’ret. (.Enter Margaret) III. Cl)e OHorfts of &tt Cl)omas 2®oxt; WITH SPECIMENS OF THE SAME. LDYS, in his valuable, and formerly too much neglected, “British Librarian” p. 194, has fa¬ voured us with an accurate but compressed ac¬ count of the edition of More’s English Works, which was carefully compiled by his nephew, RASTELL, Serjeaitt at Law, and printed by Tottel. The title of this voluminous book,* is as follows : “ The vvorkes of Sir Thomas More, Knyght, sometyme Lorde Chauncellour of England ; wrytten by him in the Englysh tonge. Printed at London, at the costes and charges of Iohn Cawod, Iohn VValy, and Richarde Tottell. Anno 1557.” The volume commences with the following DEDICATION, by Rastell. “ To the moste hygh and vertuous Princesse Mary, by the Grace of God, quene of Englande, Spayne, Fraunce, both Sicilies, Jerusalem, and Ireland, defender of the fayth, Arche-duchesse of Austria, Duchesse of Burgondy, Myllayne, and Brabant, * Containing 1458 double-columned and closely printed black-letter pages. I am in possession of a fine and perfect copy of it, which was procured from the curious catalogue of books published at the close of last year by Mr. Ford of Manchester. See No. 155. 54 SIR T. MORE. Countesse of Haspurge, Flaunders, and Tyroll, her highnesse most humble and obedient subiect, Wylliam Rastell, serieant at awe, wisheth health, wealth, honour, and felicitie, worldely and everlastyngly. 3 “ When I considered with my selfe [moste gratious Soveraignel what greate eloquence, excellent learninge, and morall vertues^ were and be conteyned in the workes and bookes, that the S ‘ „ g0 ' e man > Slr Thomas More knighte, sometyme lorde Chan cellour of Englande [my dere Vncle] wrote in theVgS toJge' so many and so well, as no one Englishman [I suppose! ever wrote the like whereby his workes be worthy to be hadde and redde of rye ng ishe man, that is studious or desirous to know and I further considered^ TT Sd "" “loTumS that were Already abrode n 1 !’ u " tH ° Se b ° kes of & should in time percase ner' h J, “ th ° Se * at were yet un P r mted, losse and detriment of man'll T Utterly vanis!l awa y (to the great and printed in one whole yoUime^fo ^ Were S ather ed together cious liege Lady) I dvd dilitx h ’ n 6SC causes (®y most gra- many of those' his TorkT^ “ Uect and g a ‘ h - together as printed and unprinted in the Endishtan”’ ° ther wntin S es - and the same [certain yeres inThetvT^’ i7 * could come by handes, very surely and ITl ? 6 fT WOrld P ast > ke P>«g m my Printed’ in ^ We caused *> be ini man that will now in our daves 6 T 6 " 1 ’ n0t ° nely that evel T by them, but also that thcv ^ ’ u ^ ^ ave and ta ^ e comr noditie wise of our posteritie m'T* T preserved for th * Profit like, gently and advisedly'to peruse ^ kes > whoso TOl1 ‘ ak e paines dili- tain gret knowledge asW eUo r th ’ ^ thereby Portly at- vertues and holy liyinge as for th mCTe ^ In ® of aI1 kmde s of godly andeschuingandconfurinlSl, 6 C ° nfirmmg of his °wn faith" and devillyshe heresies if 0 ]?! I PCTVerSe °P mi °ns, false doctrine, grace, and blended Toth J th T, T ^ deStitUte of God’s and also with proude and arrogant “ alice > HIS WORKS. 55 “ And this volume thus finished the last day of Aprill, in this year of oure Lorde God, 1557, I your graces humble, obediente, and faithfull subiect, do dedicate unto your most excellent maieste, as to that person, to whom specially of all worldelye creatures, I truste this boke shal be moste acceptable, both for that (I thinke) that it being red of many, as it is likely to be, shall much helpe forwarde your Maiesties most godly purpose, in purging this your realme of all wicked heresies (which are, thankes be to almighty God, thorowe his great goodnes and your Maiesties meanes, very much abated, and as I trust, if it may please god to graunt your highnes long to reigne over us, which I beseche him of his most mercifull goodnes to do, in time shal be clearely extinct) and for that also that syr Thomas More (the aucthor of these workes) whyle he lyved, dyd beare towardes your highnesse a speciali zeale, an entire affection, and reverent devocion: and on thother syde lykewyse your grace as it is well knowen) had towardes him in his life time, a benevolent mynde, and synguler favoure, not onelye for his great leamynge, but also for his moch more vertue. And I am fully perswaded, that your highnes good affection to¬ wardes him, is no whyt mynysshed now after his death, but rather by his worthy workes and godly ende more and more encreased, who now (beynge with almyghtie God, and lyvynge with hym) with muche greater zeale and devocion towardes your maiestie, than he had whyle he lyved here in earth, ceaseth not to praye to God for the kinges maiestie, for your hyghnesse, your subiectes, your realmes, and domynions, and for the common welth, and catholyke religion of the same, and for all christen realmes also. And this commodious and profytable boke thus beynge dedi¬ cated unto your hyghnes, I your obedient subiect most humblye praye and beseche your maiestie, to be the patrone and defendour of the same, whereby I am well assured, it shall muche the rather be ioyously embrased and had in estymacion in all trew Englyshe heartes.” This Dedication, remarkable rather for the warmth of its zeal, than for the truth of its predictions, is followed by “A table of the workes and thinges conteyned in thys volume,” comprising two pages ; which, again, is succeeded by “A Table of many matters ” or Index to the volume. “Col¬ lected and gathered together by Thomas Paynell, priest; ” 56 SIR T. MORE. comprehending twelve pages (unnumbered). After a blank leaf, we come to the Poetry. Mr. Cayley, in his life of Sir Thomas More, has, very j„_ diciously, inserted the whole* of our Author’s Poetry- Before the publication of this life, I had adopted the same The first effusion of More’s youthful muse was sfvW << j, ' W0U,d learne t0 flaye the frere ; ” “ which,” (saysTlf of his’ m 7 P ° S . S ‘ b,y have suggested to the late Mr. Co’wper the idea be d fbTd r fo 3 r Co “ 7 ° hn GilpiU " This ’ h —er, tivator of d ’ f , Cow P er ne ver appears to have been a curious inve s y f It has been a matter of wonder with the greater Dar< - , , and critics, how it came to naw that r * 7 P f Cow P er s readers poems during a state of excess,' ’ ’! , P r ° d “ Ced hls m ost facetious letters and r . & Bcate oi excessive mental deDressinn ? sibly be thought to account for it: epreSS1 ° n ? The following may pos- “ Wh y melancholy Men are -witty? planted ^ingly^ thri^ best—- sq S scholars in^he" ° ther ’ S ^ tranS ' m “ d r; n e,a a11 ht r produce k ^ temperate heat (as "" ” hk S m ’ but carries a serene understanding. Whereas whr •, ' T'"" ’ * causes a terse and more tinua. excessive heat if disc ourse Tnd e " “? altered with ‘he con. cast upon it,) it rather in^esT mad^h^ ^ ^ ^ ^ * tempered wit. Or rather is n t n, ’ than a se ™us constancy of well Choly elephant, whose brain bein/drie'sT ° f natUre ° f the melan - beasts ? ” eing dnest - 50 becomes the wisest among all bruit Assertions ani PM. Fancies. By R. H . ,6 59 t^pt” *" "" I ~ fa “ d Vouthful ™r refa him to - measure—extraordinary merrv f,i )' pcopic are “humorous beyond all -restless in their thoug^^X”" Vain > ™ d * -son company of antick, faltasticaU^Z ’ZT ll m “g-hey feign a Anatomy of Melancholy, edit. ,6;6. p . thou ghts, & c . &c.”—See his HIS WORKS. 57 plan ; but it is now rendered superfluous. As, however, More’s poetry has not found its way into the elegant vol- some materials casually supplied the author by his friend Lady Austen. For More’s poem, see “ History of the English Lanuage,” prefixed to the quarto editions of Dr. Johnson’s Dictionary. As neither Rastell, Oldys, nor Ritson, have informed us when, or by whom the “ Sergeant and Frere ” was first printed, it may be necessary to observe that a copy of it, (which is also mentioned in Laneham’s Catalogue of Capt. Coxe’s collection,) occurs in Mr. Scott’s (the book¬ seller) Catalogue of 1804, No. 710. and that it was first “ Emprynted at London by Julyan Notary, in Powly’s Churche Yarde.” No date. See also Ritson’s Bibliogr. Poet. 280, 1. The celebrated Poem or Ballad of “ The Not-Broivne Mayd ,” [the prototype of Prior’s well known “ Henry and Emma”~\ is supposed by Mr. Capell, in his “ Prolusions,” 8vo. 1760, to have been the model of More’s “Serjeant and Frere.” The “Not-Brown Maid,” was first printed in Arnolde’s Chronicle, A. D. 1508. 1521.—See Cens. Lite- raria, vol. vii. p. 96. Dr. Percy has reprinted it from a collation of a copy of Arnolde, in the Public Library at Cambridge. It begins thus —(which will remind the reader of the structure of More’s stanza—) Be it ryght, or wrong. These men among On women do complayne Affyrmynge this. How that it is A labour spent in vayne. To love them wele ; For never a dele They love a man agayne : For late a man Do what he can Theyr favour to attayne. Yet, yf a newe' Do them persue, Theyr first true lover than Laboureth for nought; For from her thought He is a banyshed man. Reliques of A. E. Poetry, vol. ii. p. 29. Mr. Capell thinks this ballad cannot be older than the year 1500, because in this, and in More’s, “there appears a sameness of rythmus, 58 SIR T. MORE. umes of Mr. G. Ellis, and as the reader may wish to peruse some specimens of it in the present work, I shall lay before him the following; which have been omitted by Dr. Johnson. i. “ Mayster Thomas More in his youth deuysed in hys fathers house in London, a goodly hangyng of fyne paynted clothe, with nyne pageauntes , and verses ouer of euery of those pageauntes : which verses expressed and de¬ clared what the ymages in those pageauntes represented : and also in those pageauntes were paynted the thynges that the verses ouer them dyd (in effecte) declare, whiche verses here folowe. In the first pageant was painted a boy playing at the top & squyrge: and ouer this pageaunt was writen as fol- oweth : IT Chyldhod. I am called Chyldhod, in play is all my mynde, To caste a coyt, a cokstele, and a ball. A toppe can I set, and dryue it in his kynde. But would to God these hatefull bookes all, Were in a fyre brent to pouder small ! Than myght I lede my lyfe alwayes in play : Whiche lyfe god sende me to myne endyng day. “ n Bu f °rh h ^ graphy; l V6ry " ear affinit y of words a "d phrases ” ccount or the sameness of measure, and in some respect for that a d 1 1orthe P or r th SeS ’ *7 ^ tMs had bee " written Z g i firT. duc^h the ° ld printer = re - Vol. ii. 27, 8, 9. h standard of tlleir own times.” Ibid. It should be observed that in j* reprint, the first and second, and fourth and fifth^ fr ° m ^ PerCy ’ S with his first and third : agreeably ,1 , H T 3 * corres P°nd the black letter editions of Mor e ’sBallaJ . \ Tr," Stanza in appear to have consulted Tt , 'iik' C Dr. Percy does not Old Ballads, that many 0 f the" Tt ^ f 3 " 3 ,.’ 3 C °" eCtio " ° f written in the rythm of the present one of More Centay W6re HIS WORKS. 59 “In the second pageannt was paynted a goodly freshe yonge man, rydyng vppon a goodly horse, hauynge an hawke on his fyste, and a brase of grayhowndes folowyng hym. And vnder the horse fete, was paynted the same boy, that in the fyrst pageaunte was playinge at the top & sqiayrge. And ouer this second pageant the wrytyng was thus: IF Manhod. Manhod I am therefore I me delyght To hunt and hawke, to nourishe vp and fede The grayhounde to the course, the hawke to the flyght, And to bestryde a good and lusty stede : These thynges become a very man in dede, yet thynketh this boy his peuishe game swetter, But what no force, his reason is no better. “ In the thyrd pagiaunt, was paynted the goodly younge man, in the seconde pagiaunt lyeng on the grounde. And vppon hym stode ladye Venus, goddes of loue, and by her, vppon this man, stode the lytle god Cupyde. And ouer this thyrd pageaunt, this was the wrytyng that foloweth. IF Venus and Cupyde . Who so ne knoweth the strength power and myght, Of Venus and me her lytle sonne Cupyde, Thou Manhod shalt a myrrour bene a ryght, By vs subdued for all thy great pryde, My fyry dart perceth thy tender syde Now thou whiche erst despysedst children small, Shall waxe a chylde agayne and be my thrall.” “In the fourth pageaunt was paynted an olde sage father sittynge in a chayre. And lyeng vnder his fete was painted the ymage of Venus & Cupyde that were in the third pageant. And over this fourth pageant the scripture was thus ; 6o SIR T. MORE. *1 Age. Olde Age am I, with lokkes thynne and hore, Of our short lyfe, the last and best part: Wyse and discrete : the publike wele, therefore, I help to rule to my labour and smart, Therefore Cupyde withdrawe thy fyry dart, Chargeable matters shall of loue oppresse, Thy childish game and ydle bysinesse. “ In the fyfth pageaunt was paynted an ymage of Death : and vnder hys fete lay the olde man in the fourth pageaunte. And aboue this fift pageant, this was the saying; IT Deth. Though I be foule vgly lene and mysshape, yet there is none m all this worlde wyde, That may my power withstande or escape, Therefore sage father, greatly magnifyed, Discende from your chayre, set apart your pryde, \\ itsafe % to lende (though it be to your payne) To me a foie, some of your wise brayne. In the sixtpageant was painted lady Fame. And vnder her fete was the picture of Death that was in the fifth pageant. And ouer this sixt pageaunt the writyng was as foloweth; Fame I am called, maruayle you nothing, hough with tonges am compassed all rounde For in voyce of people is my chiefe liuyng : O cruel death, thy power I confounde. When thou a noble man hast brought to grounde Maugry thy teeth to lyue cause him shall I,t Or people in parpetuall memory. “ In the seuenth pageant was painted the ymage of Tyme and vnder h„ fete was ,„„ g the plcl „ J^ Vouchsafe. f “ In spite of thy teeth, I shall cause him to live.” HIS WORKS. 61 in the sixt pageant. And this was the scripture ouer this seuenth pageaunt, IF Tyme. I whom thou seest with horyloge * in hande, Am named tyme ; the lord of euery howre ; I shall in space destroy both see and lande. O simple fame, how darest thou man honowre, Promising of his name, an endlesse flowre, Who may in the world haue a name eternall, When I shall in proces distroy the world and all! “ In the eyght pageant was pictured the ymage of lady Eternitee , sittyng in a chayre, vnder a sumptious clothe of estate, crowned with an imperiali crown. And vnder her fete lay the picture of Time that was in the seuenth pa¬ geant. And aboue this eight pageaunt, was it writen as foloweth: IF Eternitee. Me nedeth not to host, I am Eternitee, The very name signifyeth well, That myne empyre infinite shalbe. Thou mortali Tyme, euery man can tell, Art nothyng els but the mobilite Of sonne and mone chaungyng in euery degre, When they shall leue theyr course thou shalt be brought, For all thy pride and bostyng, into nought. “In the nynth pageant was painted a Poet sitting in a chayre. And ouer this pageant were there writen these verses in latin folowyng. IT The Poet. Has fictas quemcunque iuuat spectare figuras , Sed mira veros quas putat arte homines. Ille potest veris animum sic pascere rebus , Vt pictis oculos poscit imaginibus. * A dial ; time-piece. 62 SIR T. MORE. Namque videbit vti fragilis bona lub?'ica mundi \ Tam cito non veniunt , quam cito pretereunt, Gaudia , laus 6° honor, celeri pede omnia cedunt, Qui manet excepto semper amore dei. Ergo homines, leuibus iamiam diffidite rebus, Nulla recessuro spes adhibenda bono, Qui dabit ceterna??i ?iobis pro munere vitam, In permansuro ponite vota deo. The remaining original poetical compositions of our au¬ thor have the following titles; 2. “ A ruful lamentacion (writen by Master Thomas More in his youth), of the deth of quene Elisabeth, mother to king Henry the eight, wife to king Henry the seuenth, & eldest doughter to king Edward the fourth, which quene Elisabeth dyed in childbed in February in the yere of our lord, 1503. & in the 18. yere of the raigne of king Henry the seuenth.” This is given at length by Dr. Johnson, in his “History of the English Language,” prefixed to his Dictionary : it has a few pretty thoughts, but is, upon the whole flat and uninteresting. 3- “Certain meters in english written by master Thomas More in hys youth for the Boke of Fortune, and caused them to be printed in the begynnyng of that boke.” These comprise seven pages of the original folio edition, and are also incorporated in the 4to. Dictionary of Dr. Johnson; though they are hardly worth the trouble of transcription. “ The Boke of Fortune,” to which they were prefixed, is said by Ritson, (Bibliogr. Poet. 281.) to be “ unknown.” The short “ballettes” of 4. “ Lewys the lost louer,” and 5. “ Dauy the dycer,” inserted at p. 1432, 3. of the folio edi- tion and also quoted by Dr. Johnson, seem to be the whole of More s original poetry. At the conclusion of his « Lyfe of John Picus, Earle of HIS WORKS. 63 Mirandula,” we have twelve pages of very dull poetry, under the following titles : 6. “Twelue rules of John Picus, Earle of Mirandula, partely exciting, partely directing a man in spiritual bataile. 7. “ The twelue weapons of spirituali battayle which euery manne shoulde haue at hand when the pleasure of a sinnefull temptacion commeth to his minde.” This is probably duller than the preceding. We have next 8. “ The twelue properties or condicions of a louer.” This is a religious piece, and has some little merit. It compares our temporal attachments with what should be our spiritual ones: thus, as we ardently prefer one indi¬ vidual to another, so ardent should be our affection towards God. The following are among the best specimens of this composition. IT The Hi. Propertee. The third point of a perfit louer is, To make him freshe ; to see that al thing bene, Appointed wel, and nothing set amis, But all well fashioned, proper, goodly, clene, That in his parsone there be nothing sene, In speache, apparaile, gesture, looke, or pace, That may offende or minish any grace. IT The x. Propertee. The louer is of colour dead and pale, There will no slepe in to his eyes stalke, He sauoureth neither meate, wine, nor ale, He mindeth not, what menne about him talke, But eate he, drinke he, sitte, lye downe or walke, He burnetii euer, as it were with a fire, In the feruent heate of his desire. 64 SIR T. MORE. Here shoulde the louer of God ensaumple take To haue him continually in remembraunce; with him in prayer and meditacion wake, whyle other playe, reuil, sing, and daunce, None earthly ioye, disporte, or vayne pleasaunce Should him delite, or any thyng remoue His ardent minde from god his heauenly loue. IF The xi Propertee. Diuersly passioned is the louers hart, Now pleasaunt hope, now dread and grieuous fere, Now perfit blisse, now bitter sorowe smart, And whither his loue be with him or els where, Oft from his eyes there falleth many a tere ! For very ioy, when they together bee, when thei be sundred for aduersitee. These specimens of poetry may be sufficient to convince the reader that the celebrity of our author could never have rested upon the slender foundation of his Muse. Mr. Ellis observes * that More’s “ Poems possess considerable merit, though they are too diffuse and languid; ” probably the poem of the “Pageauntes ” is next in merit to the “ Sergeant and Frere. The remainder, both original and translated, can be read only as as a matter of curiosity.f Whether More ever continued his poetical attempts, or whether he was convinced, from the preceding, that he was an unsuc- Specimens of the Early English Poets, vol. ii. 8. note, t ore s Great Grandson entertained a very different opinion of these poems; with what justice the reader is left to determine. The Latin poetry of our author was unquestionably more successful, and received the merited commendations of a numerous tribe of foreign scholars—among whom, Rhenanus thus speaks of them to Pitchey- merus. Thomas More is marvellous in every respect; for he com- poundeth most eloquently, and translated! most happily. How sweetly st°raFn S edTho S ? ^ nothin * in * em **meth hZ Lb eaSy a a u h ‘ ngS th6re that he s P eaketh •’ nothing s hard, nothing rugged, nothing obscure; he is pure, he is witty, he ■s elegant; besides, he doth temper all things with mirth, as that I HIS WORKS. 65 cessful Bard—or whether he had really an aversion to poetry—can be only matter of conjecture. We have cer¬ tainly no reason to regret the cessation of the labours of his Muse. Our attention may now be called to the more interesting parts of our author’s works, which are written in Prose. The first prosaical work with which Rastell’s ponderous folio opens, is called 1. “The Life of John Picus, Erie of Myrandula, a great Lorde of Italy, an excellent connyng man in all sci¬ ences, and vertuous of living: with divers epistles and other workes of the sayd John Picus, full of greate science, vertue, and wisdome : whose life and woorkes bene worthy and digne to be read, and often to be had in memory. Translated out of Latin into Englishe by Maister Thomas More.” This is supposed to be the earliest of More’s prose com¬ positions, and was undoubtedly written in his youth.* It opens with the following epistolary dedication ; which we find was composed “ in the beginning of a new year.” never read a merrier man ! I could think that the muses have heaped upon him alone all their pleasant conceits, and witty merriments : moreover, his quips are not biting, but full of pleasantness, and very proper; yea, rather any thing than stinging. For he jesteth, but without mordacity; he scoffeth, yet without contumely.” Gr. grand¬ son’s Life, qto. edit. p. 23, 4. * “ Finding his bodie, for all his austerity, ready still to endanger his soul, although at all times he shunned idleness more than any other man, he determined to marry; and therefore he propounded to him¬ self, as a pattern of life, a singular layman, John Picus, Earl of Mirandula, who was a man famous for virtue, and most eminent for learning; his life he translated and set out, as also many of his most worthy letters, and his twelve precepts of good life; which are extant in the beginning of his English Works.” Great-grandson’s Life, 4to. edit. 31, 2. E 66 SIR T. MORE. “ Unto his right entirely beloved Sister in Christ , Joyeuce Leigh , Thomas More, greeting in our Lord* It is, and of long time hath been, my well beloved sister, a custom in the beginning of the new year, (for) friends to send between, presents or gifts, as the witnesses of their love and friendship ; and also signifying that they desire, each to other, that year, a good continuance and prosperous end of that lucky beginning. But commonly all those pre¬ sents, that are used customably all in this manner between friends to be sent, be such things as pertain only unto the body, either to be fed, or to be clad, or some otherwise de¬ lighted : by which it seemeth, that their friendship is but fleshly, and stretcheth in manner to the body only. But forasmuch as the love and amity of Christian folk should be rather ghostly friendship than bodily—since that all faith¬ ful people are rather spiritual than carnal—[for, as the apostle saith, “We be not now in flesh, but in spirit, if Christ abide in us.”] I, therefore, mine heartily beloved sister, in good luck of this new year, have sent you such a present as may bear witness of my tender love and zeal to the happy continuance and gracious increase of virtue in your soul. And whereas the gifts of other folk declare that they wish their friends to be worldly fortunate, mine testi- fieth that I desire to have you godly prosperous. uniform/ 16 j nSUin j> ^ pecimens of More’s Prose Compositions, I have takenThfs fh ? l * u ” 0 rtho S ra P h y • My reason for having Fill t S y T St be Stated in the sensible language of Mr. G which have C ° nCeiveS ’ that > although some of the variations bv can / ace m ° Ur m ° de 0f Spellin s ma y have been dic- tated b y caprice, the greater number were adopted with a view to liorfLtewJttl*”’ s nd tHat lt “ n ° injUVy t0 an aUthor t0 rcnder him Preb d v So ; SpeClmens °/ the Eai ;ly English Poets, edit, 1790. in works of this klnd^m^rseen^f Mr "g 'b m ° de , rn or t ho gra p hy English Prose Writers, vol. i P re f. p. ^ ' BUmett S SpGCimenS ° f HIS WORKS. 67 “ These works, more profitable than large, were made in Latin by one John Picus , Erie of Mirandula , a lordship in Italy; of whose cunning and virtue we need here nothing to speak : forasmuch as, hereafter, we peruse the course of his whole life, rather after our little power slenderly, than after his merits sufficiently. The works are such, that truly, good sister, I suppose of the quantity there cometh none in your hand more profitable—neither to the achieving of temperance in prosperity, nor to the purchasing of pa¬ tience in adversity, nor to despising of worldly vanity, nor to the desiring of heavenly felicity—which works I would require you gladly to receive, ne were it that they be such, that for the goodly matter (howsoever they be translated) may delight and please any person that hath any mean * desire and love to God. And that yourself is such one, as for your virtue and fervent zeal to God cannot but joyously receive anything that meanly soundeth, either to the re¬ proach of vice, commendation of virtue, or honour and laud of God ; who preserve you ! ” The Life of Picus consists of nine pages and half; the Epistles of the same person, fill an equal succeeding num¬ ber. The Life is divided into a number of short chapters, of which the following are among the most interesting specimens. Considering, indeed, they were composed most probably before More had attained his twentieth year, and therefore at the close of the fifteenth century, they may re¬ proach us with the trifling improvements which three cen¬ turies have wrought in our language. Of his Parents and time of his Birth. “ In the year of our Lord God 1463, Pius the Second being then the General Vicar of Christ in his Church, and Frederick III. of that name ruling the Empire, this nobleman was born, the last * Moderate. 68 SIR T. MORE. child of his Mother Julia ; a woman coming of a noble stock; his Father, hight* John Francis, a Lord of great honour and authority. Of the Wonder that appeared before his Birth. “ A marvellous sight was seen before his birth : there appeared a fiery garland standing over the chamber of his Mother while she travailed, and suddenly vanished away : which appearance was, peradventure, a token that he which should that hour in the com¬ pany of mortal men be born, in the perfection of understanding should be like the perfect figure of that round circle or garland* and that his excellent name should round about the circle of this' whole world be magnified : whose mind should always, as the fire aspire upwards to heavenly things: and whose fiery eloquence should, with an ardent heart, in time to come, worship and praise Almighty God with all his strength. And as that flame suddenly vanished, so should this fire soon from the eyes of mortal people be hid. We have often times read, that such unknown and strange tokens hath gone before, or followeth the nativity of ex¬ cellent, wise, and virtuous men, departing, as it were, and (by God s commandment) severing the cradles of such special children rom the company 0 f other of the common sort: and shewing that they be born to the achieving of some great thing. “ But to pass over other : the great St. Ambrose, a swarm of bees flew about his mouth, m his cradle; and some entered into is mouth, and after that, issuing out again, and flying up on high faSanHf n e th m0n n ^ d ° UdS ’ escaped boththe si § ht ° f his one P,m d , hem that Were preSent Which Prognostication, one Paulmus making much of, expounded it to signify to us the wee oney combs of his pleasant writing : which should shew “ d " d “ •'« r Of his Person. -oodfyand hth at of e fl an , d SeemIy and beaute °us 1 of stature KdSwt NS " d S ° ft; hisvisa § e 'ovely and ’ ! °!°, ur :, hlte > intermingled with comely red • his eves a J d quick of look i h; s teeth white and eve/- his hair vellow and not too piked. * nis nair yehow * Called. HIS WORKS. 69 Five causes that in so short time brought him to so marvellous cunning. “ To the bringing forth of so wonderful effects in so small time, I consider five causes to have come together : first, an incredible wit; secondly, a marvellous fast memory; thirdly, great substance. By the which, to the buying of his Books, as well Latin as Greek, and other tongues, he was especially holpen. vii. m. ducats he had laid out in the gathering together of volumes of all manner of literature ; the fourth cause was his busy and indefatigable study; and the fifth was the contempt or despising of all earthly things. Of his Liberality and contempt of Riches. “ Liberality only in him passed measure; for so far was he from the giving of any diligence to earthly things, that he seemed some¬ what besprent* with the freckle of negligence. His friends often¬ times admonished him, that he should not all utterly despise riches; shewing him, that it was his dishonesty and rebuke, when it was reported (were it true or false), that his negligence and set¬ ting nought by money, gave his servants occasion of deceit and robbery. Nevertheless, that mind of his (which evermore on high cleaved fast in contemplation, and in the searching of nature’s council) could never let down itself to the consideration and over¬ seeing of these base, abject, and vile earthly trifles. His high steward came on a time to him, and desired him to receive his account of such money as he had in many years received of his : and brought forth his books of reckoning. Picus answered him in this way ; “my friend,” (saith he,) “I know well you have mought oftentimes, and yet may deceive me, and ye list: wherefore, your examination of these expences shall not need. There is no more to do—if I be ought in your debt, I shall pay you by and by: if you be in mine, pay me, either now, if you have it, or hereafter, if you be now not able ! Of his Behaviour in the extremes of his Life. “ When that one Albertus , his sister’s son, a young man, both of wit, cunning, and conditions, excellent—begun to comfort him against death, and by natural reason to shew him why it was not to be feared : but strongly to be taken, as that only thing which * Besprinkled. 70 SIR T. MORE. maketh an end of all the labour, pain, trouble, and sorrow of this short, miserable, deadly life—he answered, that this was not the chief thing that should make him content to die : because the death determineth the manifold incommodities and painfulness of the wretchedness of this life : but rather this cause should make him not content only, but also glad to die, for that death maketh an end of sin : in as much as he trusted the shortness of his life should leave him no space to sin and offend. He asked also all his servants forgiveness, if he had ever before that day offended any of them; for whom he had provided by his Testament vm years before: for some of them, meat and drink: for some money; each of them after their deserving. He shewed also to the abovenamed Albertus, and many other creditable persons, that the queen of Heaven came to him that night with a marvellous fragrant odour, refreshing all his members that were bruised with that fever, and promised him that he should not utterly die. He lay always with a pleasant and merry countenance, and in the very twitches and pangs of death he spake as though he beheld the Heavens open. And all that came to him, and saluted him, offer- mg him their service with very loving words, he received, thanked, and Hssed. Ihe executor of his moveable goods he made one Antony his Brother. The heir of his lands he made the poor people of the Hospital of Florence. And in this wise, into the hands of our Saviour, he gave up his spirit.” p. 8 . Hmv reasonable Men be changed into unreasonable Beasts. enchantment Tv—/" ^ * W ° man Called Circe ’ which h Y turn as renn ’ S maketh men tion), used with a drink to turn as many men, as received it, into divers likeness and figures of sundry beasts: some into lions, some into bears, some into wine some into wolves-which afterwards walked ev^ tame about her house, and waited upon her in such use or se^ice as tnk M 0 th P e U line°of th T- t * ^ the if * ««to us the noble use of his reason ^nd ° r makes the souI leave tions n f th* k a u ’ d lncIme u nto sensuality and affec- h r» » r ™ « -—- “ srr'r- r HIS WORKS. 71 into a goat, the drunken glutton into a swine, the ravenous extor¬ tioner into a wolf, the false deceiver into a fox, the mocking jester into an ape : from which beastly shape may we never be restored to our own likeness again, unto the time we have cast up again the drink of the bodily affections, by which we were into these figures enchanted. When there cometh sometimes a monstrous beast to the town, we run and are glad to pay some money to have a sight thereof: but I fear if men would look upon them¬ selves advisedly, they should see a more monstrous beast nearer home : for they would perceive themselves, by their wretched in¬ clination to divers beastly passions, changed in their soul, not into the shape of one, but of many beasts ; that is to say, of all them whose brutish appetites they follow. Let us then beware, as Picus counselleth us, that we be not drunken in the cups of Circe; that is to say, in the sensual affections of the flesh; lest we deform the image of God in our souls, after whose image we be made, and make ourselves worse than idolaters. For if he be odious to God, which tumeth the image of a beast into God—how much is he more odious, which turneth the image of God into a beast ? ! ” p. io. 2. “The History of King Richard the Thirde, (unfinished) written by Master Thomas More, then one of the under-sheriffs of London : about the year of our Lorde 1513. Which worke hath bene before this tyme printed, in Hardynge’s Chronicle, and in Hally’s Chron¬ icle : but very much corrupte in many places, sometyme havyng lesse, and sometime having more, and altered in wordes and whole sentences : muche varying from the copie of his own hand, by which this is printed.” Such is the title prefixed by the editor, Rastell, to this edition of More’s celebrated history of Richard the III.— “which, says Mr. Laing, [in an elaborate and excellent ap¬ pendix to the 12th vol. of Dr. Henry’s Hist, of Gr. Britain, p. 395-] has been transcribed in every subsequent chronicle, adopted by Polydore Virgil, and followed almost implicitly by modern historians.” It is supposed to have been first 7 - SIR T. MORE. written in the Latin language as early as the year 1508. Of its authenticity a few words will be presently said. The following specimen of More’s style, from this popular work, may not be unacceptable to the reader; particularly as it has been omitted by Dr. Johnson and Mr. Burnett. Theie are parts of it written with peculiar force and interest. The Description of Shore’s Wife. This woman was born in London, worshipfully friended hon¬ estly brought up, and very well married, saving somewhat too soon ; her husband an honest citizen, young and goodly, and of good substance. But forasmuch as they were coupled before she was well ripe, she not very fervently loved for whom she never onged. Which was happily the thing that the more easily made her incline unto the king’s appetite when he required her. How- beit’ res P ec t of his royalty, the hope of gay apparel, ease, plea- suie and other wanton wealth, was able soon to pierce a soft tender heart. But when the king had abused her, anon her husband (as he was an honest man and one that knew his good, not presuming to touch a king’s concubine), left her up to him altogether. When the King died, the Lord Chamberlain took her: which in the jng s days although he was enamoured with her, yet he forbare r, either for reverence or for a certain friendly faithfulness ropei she was and fair; nothing in her body that you would have changed, but if you would have wished her somewhat higher see^er^T 7 * ^.’“f-”’ her ln her >' outh - Albeit some that now visaed wif a th) d6em her never t0 have been well ., s , d Wh ° se judgment seemeth to me, somewhat like as ough men should guess the beauty of one long before departed ll 2d Z; 1 ‘be charnel-house: for now sheTold hard bone ^ T* *! UP ’ DOth ’ n S left but [ sh ] riv M skin and hard bone. And yet being even such, whoso will advise her vi- itf fkhfSe^Ye^d^foT WhiCh PartS ’ h ° W fiUed ’ would makfe her p ea ant hi 8 ^ ” 0t men S ° much in her beauty as in £t y « W «ta. and nam'd do* swer, neither mute nor full of babbhTso T 7 ^ <1U ' Ck ° f an ' displeasure .and not without disport r 7 7 ™ WitH ° Ut dad HIS WORKS. 73 excelled. One the merriest, another the the wiliest, the third the holiest harlot in his realm, as one who no man could get out of the church lightly to any place, but it were to his bed. The other two were somewhat greater personages, and, nathless, of their hu¬ mility content to be nameless ; and to forbear the praise of those properties. But the merriest was this Shore’s wife , in whom the King therefore took special pleasure. For many he had, but her he loved ; whose favour, to say the truth, (for sin it were to bely the devil) she never abused to any man’s hurt, but to many a man’s comfort and relief. Where the King took displeasure, she would mitigate and appease his mind: where men were out of favour, she would bring them in his grace. For many that had highly offended, she obtained pardon. Of great forfeitures she gat men remission. And, finally, in many weighty suits, she stood many men in great stead, either for none, or very small, rewards, and those rather gay than rich. Either for that she was content with the deed itself well done, or, for that she delighted to be sued unto, and to shew what she was able to do with the King; or, for that wanton women and wealthy be not always covetous. I doubt not some shall think the woman too slight a thing to be written of, and set among the remembrances of great matters: which they shall specially think, that happily shall esteem her only by that they now see of her. But me seemeth the chance so much the more worthy to be remembered, in how much she is now in the more beggarly condition; unfriended, and worn out of acquain¬ tance, after good substance; after as great favour with the Prince, after as great suit and seeking to with all those that in those days had business to speed; as many other men were in their times, which be now famous only by the infamy of their ill deeds. Her doings were not much less ; albeit they be much less remembered because they were not so evil. For men use, if they have an evil turn, to write it in marble: and whoso doth us a good turn , we write it in dust —which is not worst proved by her: for, at this day, she beggeth of many at this day living, who, at this day, had begged if she had not been ! ” p. 56. A word or two remains to be said about the authenticity of the facts related in this history. Mr. Hume has bestowed the most unqualified commendation upon the work. Mr. Macdiarmid has implicitly adopted the sentiments of Hume, 74 SIR T. MORE. without calling the reader’s attention to the doubts started by Buck and Mr. H. Walpole, and, afterwards, so saga¬ ciously confirmed by Mr. Laing, in the Appendix before alluded to.* Mr. Burnett, in his “ Specimens of English Prose Writers,” vol. i. p. 383, &c. has condensed the argu¬ ments of Mr. Laing; and from both it would appear that Cardinal [afterwards Archbishop] MORTON, f was the ori¬ ginal author of this history, commonly known by the name of More s. “A Latin history of Richard, composed by that prelate was preserved in the last century by Roper, a de¬ scendant of More, to whom, as a favourite pupil, the book had devolved.” [Buck apud Rennet 546.] “That such was the source of More’s information, the substratum on which he constructed his history, is farther confirmed by the English edition ; which extends beyond the period of Richard’s accession, &c. The subject is resumed and con¬ tinued by Hall and Grafton, in a manner equally minute and circumstantial, nor apparently less authentic; and as the particulars could only be obtained from Morton I con¬ clude that they, and More, had access to the same original information, and attribute the materials of the history in question to Morton ; the ornamental and classical varnish ° ^ 1 venerate too much,” says Mr. Laing, “in another place, the character of Sir Thomas More, not to a tribute, if possible, his mistakes to ignorance ; but I am afraid that his narrative discovers, in some placeman in¬ tended and artful deviation from the truth.” See Mr G Burnetts Specimens, vol. i. p. 388. Appendix to Dr' Henry, vol. xii. p. 397. 405. We are now reluctantly to take leave of the most inter¬ es mg compositions of our author, and notice those which are devoted to the dry, and too frequently, harsh and unin- * See p. 71 ante. t Vide note, post. HIS WORKS. 75 structive subjects of polemical divinity. It is deeply to be regretted that More, as he grew older, ceased to cultivate the early bent of his genius for the belles-lettres department of literature. His success in what he has executed in this de¬ partment, leaves us to acknowledge the disappointment which posterity has experienced from his treatises on the Catholic and Protestant controversy ; for, in truth, More is unworthy of himself in almost every thing which he has written upon the subject. That his religious writings sometimes evince fertility of fancy, and strength of language, cannot be denied : but that he is, upon the whole, rather coarse than witty, and flimsy than argumentative—that he has too frequently treated the serious subjects upon which he wrote, with a levity and vulgarity inconsistent with the character of a pious and learned man—must also be as readily conceded. More has, indeed, in too many instances, substituted personal abuse for licensed raillery ; and while, with the ancients before him, and Erasmus as a contemporary guide, he strove to impart a classical spirit to his productions, he has not only fallen considerably beneath himself, but has set a very striking example how great talents and great virtues may be sacrificed at the shrine of misplaced zeal. What Dr. Knight says upon this subject, is not very wide of the truth. “ Let any one but read the vindication of our Protestant faith by poor John Frith, a boy in effect; and a naked prisoner—and then run over the answers and op¬ positions of the noble Lord Chancellor, Sir Thomas More, and compare the sense, the style, the spirit of them both— and he need not be told on which side the advantage lies.”* * Life of Dean Colet, p. 104, 5. There was too good cause, I fear, for the following pertinent remarks of More’s friend, Erasmus, in one of the Epistles of the latter. “ Olim etiam reverenter audiebatur Hereticus, et absolvebatur si satisfaciebat: sin convictus perstitisset. 76 SIR T. MORE. But I proceed to enumerate the remaining works of our author. 3. “A Treatyce (unfynyshed) upon these wordes of holye Scrypture, “ Memorare novissima , et in eternum non pec¬ cabis. Remember the last thynges and thou shalt never synne. Made about the year of our lorde 1522, by Sir Thomas More then knyghte, and one of the privye counsayle of King Henry theight, and also under trea- sorer of Englande.” This treatise extends from page 72 to page 102 inclusive, of Tottels edition. The ensuing specimen shews how forcibly and pleasingly our author could write when he was divested of personal feeling. Spiritual Pleasures. Now see the blindness of us worldly folks 1 how precisely we presume to shoot our foolish bolt, in those matters most in which we east can skill. For I little doubt, but that among four thou¬ sand, taken out at adventure, we shall not find four score but ber y thtseT° Idl T^T * ^ 3 t0 ° painfuI ’ busil y t0 r emem- e these Four Last Things. And yet durst I lay a wager that of thoughtT fo SaDd f’ y ° U ShaH n0t find f ° Urteen that deeply thought on them four times in all their days. If men would rXT T !n P T f aDd eXperienCe the «Potion and work 4 thly shiuldTndT’ reme y brance of these fo® last things, they should find therein, not the pleasure of their life lost, but so extrema pcena erat, non admittebatur ad Ecclesiasti,-*™ nem. Nunr alia u ecclesiasticam Communio- levem causam, statim hoc S SStKT Articulis fid ^ dissentiat a Thoma, vocatur Hrereticus • ,i “ qU ' S UnqUam ratione quam heri Sophista quispiam'in P * COmraentitia Quicquid non placet, quicquid non intelLnt w COmmentU " 6St ' scire Haeresis est; expolite loqui H^resis fst \ ^esisest; Grace faciunt, Hceres is est.” Erasmi Eoist Ra '1 ^ ^ qU1C( H ld sei Psi non Knight. hpiSt ’ Basil > P. 411 , cited by Dr. HIS WORKS. 77 great a pleasure grow thereby, that they never felt the like before ; nor would have supposed that ever they should have felt any such. For it is to be known, the like as we be made of two far divers and unlike substances, the body and the soul, so we be apt and able to receive two divers and unlike pleasures; the one carnal and fleshly, the other ghostly and spiritual. And like as the soul excelleth the body, so doth the sweetness of Spiritual Pleasure far pass and excel the gross and filthy pleasure of all fleshly delight: which is, in truth, no very true pleasure, but a false counterfeit image of pleasure. And the cause why men be so mad thereon, is only for ignorance, and lack of knowledge of the other. As those that lack insight of precious stones, hold themselves as well content and satisfied with a beryl or chrystal well counterfeited, as with a right natural diamond. But he that by good use and ex¬ perience, hath in his eye the right mark and very true lustre of the diamond, rejecteth and will not look upon the counterfeit, be it ever so well handled, ever so craftily polished ! And trust it well that, in likewise, if men would well accustom themselves to spiritual pleasure, and that sweet feeling that virtuous people have of the good hope of Heaven, they would shortly set at nought, and at length abhor, the foul delight and filthy liking that riseth of sensual and fleshly pleasure ; which is never so pleasantly spiced with delight and liking, but that it bringeth therewith such a grudge and grief of conscience, that it maketh the stomach wamble,* and fare as it would vomit. And yet, notwithstanding, such is our blind custom, that we persevere therein without care or cure of the better: as a sow, content with draffe dirt and mire, careth neither for better meat nor better bed. “ Think not that every thing is pleasant that men for madness laugh at. For thou shalt in Bedlam see one laugh at the knock¬ ing of his own head against a post, and yet there is little pleasure therein ! But ye think peradventure this sample as mad as the madman, and as little to the purpose. I am content ye so think. But what will ye say, if ye see men that are taken and reputed wise, laugh much more madly than he ? Shall ye not see such laugh at their own craft, when they have, as they think, wilily done their neighbour wrong ? Now whoso seeth not that his laughter is more mad than the laughter of the madman, I hold him madder than both !” p. 72. * Overturn , heave. 7» SIR T. MORE. 4* “A Dialogue of Syr Thomas More, Knyghte; one of the counsaill of our Soverayne Lord the Kinge, and Chancellour of his Duchy of Lancaster. Wherein be treatyd divers maters, as of the Veneracion and Worship of Ymages and relyques, praying to saintes, and goying on pylgrimage. With many other thinges touchyng the pestilent secte of Luther and Tyndale, by the tone bygone in Saxony: and by the tother laboured to be brought into England. Made in the yere of our Lord 1528.” This was among the most popular of More’s controver¬ sial writings, and ran through two editions in two years ; the first was printed in 1529, and is accurately described by Herbert, whose copy of it is in my possession. In the British Museum there is a copy of the second edition of 1530. The work extends from page 105 to 288 inclusive, in Tottel’s edition. The following passage is a proof of the skill with which our author could treat the subject on which he was writing. Why Heretics speak against Images. “But now, as I began to say, since all names spoken or written be but images, if you set nought by the name of Jesus spoken or written, why should you set nought by his image, painted or en¬ graven, that representeth his holy person to your remembrance, as much and more too, as doth his name written ? Nor these two words, Christus Crucificus ,, do not so lively represent us the re¬ membrance of his bitter passion, as doth a blessed image of the crucifix ; neither to a lay man, nor unto a learned. And this per- c ei ve these Heretics themselves well enough; nor they speak not gainst Images for any furtherance of devotion, but plainly for a rouTtL7t n h ’ t0 qU£nCh men ’ S devotions J for they see well enough that there is no man but if he loveth another, he delighteth in his image or any thing of his. And these Hereticks that be so sore against the images of God, and his holy Saints, would be yet Ight angry with him that would dishonestly handle an image made HIS WORKS. 79 in remembrance of one of themselves; where the wretches forbear not vilainously to handle and cast dirt in despite upon the holy crucifix, an image made in remembrance of our Saviour himself, and not only of his most blessed person, but also of his most bitter passion ! ” p. 1 17. 5. “The Supplicacion of Soules, made Anno 1529, by Syr Thomas More, knight, counsaylour to our Sove- rayne Lorde the Kynge, and Chauncelour of hys duchye of Lancaster.” Agaynst “ The Supplicacion of Beggars.”* * A curious anecdote, connected with this work, is thus related by Fox, in his Book of Martyrs, vol. ii. p. 280, edit. 1641. “ Master Moddis being with the king (Henry VIII.) in talk of reli¬ gion, and of the new bookes that were come from beyond the seas, said, if it might please his Grace to pardon him, and such as he would bring to his Grace, he shoulde see such a booke as was marvell to heare of. The king demanded what they were : he said, two of your merchants, George Elyot, and George Robinson. The king appointed a time to speak with them. When they came before his presence in a privy closet, he demanded what they had to say, or to shew him. One of them said that there was a book come to their hands, which they had there to shew his Grace. When he saw it, he demanded if any of them could read it. “ Yea, said George Elyot, if it please your Grace to hear it.” I thought so (said the king) for if need were, thou canst say it without book.” “The whole booke being read out, the king made a long pause, and then sayd, “ If a man should pull down an old stone wall, and begin at the lower part, the upper part thereof might chance to fall on his head.” And then he tooke the booke and put it into his desk, and commanded them, upon their allegiance, that they should not tell to any man that hee had seen the booke, &c. The copy of the foresaid book, intituled of the Beggars, heere ensueth. “A certaine Libell or booke, entituled The Supplicacion of Beggers, throwne and scattered at the procession in Westminster, on Can¬ dlemas day, before King Henry the eighth, for him to read and peruse, made and compiled by Master Fish” The whole of this vulgar, but uncommonly energetic performance will be found in Fox’s Martyrs, from which I extract the following sin¬ gular passages—premising, that the first two sections or paragraphs, describe in very glowing terms, the mischiefs resulting to the common people from the taxes and tithes then levied by the Catholic clergy. “ Here, if it please your grace to mark, you shall see a thing far out 8o SIR T. MORE. This tract, written in opposition to a celebrated work, (of which some account is given in the note below) occupies 51 pages of Tottel’s edition, and contains some very severe but coaise animadversions. There are few of More’s treatises which exceed it in violence of invective. The following is rh iC T' T A h£ 7 5 re Withi " y ° Ur realme of En g |and 52,000 Parish Churches. And th.s standing, that there be but ten households in every parish, yet are there five hundred thousand and twenty thousand housholds And of every of these housholds, hath every of the five rders of Friers a penny a quarter, for every order : that is for all he five orders, five pence a quarter for eve* house : that is, for a the Ave orders twenty pence a yeere of every house. Summa • five anvfls T tW6nty th ° USand fi uarters of “get, that is, 260,000 halfe gels. Summa. 130,000 angels : Summa totalis 430,333 pounds six ” ■>” C f1n" 0 ^-i neV u 0llS and painfu11 exac tion thus yeerely to be paied—from e which, the people of your noble predecessors, the king-s of the ancient Bntames, ever stood free ! ” ^ At sect. 21. More’s reply to this work is noticed in very sarcastic rms, his name and works are constantly alluded to throughout enough a m nd nC ahho h e h Vit ° f '*** ” is s °™times keen deeds with a d f . Seems ‘° be f ° nd ° f " arrad "g- licentious there a^ vervtw a g t m , mUteneSS ’ yet ’ * muSt be confessed that, fail to imer^tan F„ an , P ff geS in this ‘ract-which cannoi ablv m pHp • S lsh reader of the present times, and which prob- was^ddressed"’ 6 ' mPreSS1 ° n “P™ ^ M ° nareh whom * cu£us“ iih^r '^ 1 thb W ° rk ’J S t0 ° character and publication e^^es^a^TcE fnThe “ptS y a the Ua Card, e nan d tw'l^T ‘^d ° f En « lande ’ and Beesrers \j*lr • ! ( W °lsey), understood these bookes of the rf London // r? ra u a ° reSayd ’ t0 bee strawne abroad in the streets on^r^dihS;aS h t e o say d c r nai1 “ - should not come into the king’s hands tut also'" h ‘a 31 they that the king- hod r «w a d ’ b 1 so when he understood king’s mai«y^viSr^>T,, 0r , tWO ° f ‘ hem ’ he Came unto tbe seditious persons which have ^ - diV6rS wte™ r:. of the bookes and deS?f^ HIS WORKS. 81 the opening : to which the editor Rastell has affixed this marginal annotation.—“ The sely soules in purgatorie call vnto vs for help.” V To all good Christian People. In most piteous wise continually calleth and crieth upon your devout charity and most tender pity, for help, comfort and relief, your late acquaintance, kindred, spouses, companions, play fel¬ lows, and friends, and now your humble unacquainted and half forgotten suppliants ; poor prisoners of God, that sell souls in pur¬ gatory, here abiding and enduring the grievous pains and hot cleansing fire, that fretteth and burneth out the rusty and filthy spots of our sin, till the mercy of Almighty God, the rather by your good and charitable means, vouchsafe to deliver us hence.” Fox tells us that More published this work, “ under the name and title of Thepoore silly Soules pewling out of Pur- gaforyP Martyrs, vol. ii. 283. 6 “The Confvtacion OF Tyndales Avnsvvere, made Anno. 1532, by syr Thomas More, knyghte, Lorde chaun- cellour of Englande.” “ The Second Boke which confvteth the Defence of Tyndall, for hys translacion of the newe Testamente.”* * Fox has given us the following anecdote relating to the first im¬ pression of Tindall’s translation of the New Testament : a book, which is continually noticed by More in the above work, and against which he pronounced many severe anathemas. “The new Testament began first to be translated by William Tin¬ dall, and so came forth in Print, about the yeare of our Lord, 1529, wherewith Cuthbert Tonstall, Bishop of London, with Sir Thomas More, being sore aggrieved, devised how to destroy that false errone¬ ous translation, as he called it. It hapned, that one Augustine Pack- ington, a mercer, was then at Antwerpe, where the Bishop was. This man favoured Tyndall, but shewed the contrary unto the bishop. The Bishop, being desirous to bring his purpose to passe, communed how that he would gladly buy the new Testaments. Packington hearing him say so, said My Lord, I can do more in this matter, than most merchants that bee here, if it bee your pleasure—for I know the F 82 SIR T. MORE. “ Tile thirde booke. Here after foloweth the thirde booke, in which be treated two chapiters of Tindales booke, that is to wit, whither the church were before the ghospell, or the ghospel before the church, and whither the apostles left ought vnwritten, that is of necessite to be beleued.” The fourth booke : Whether the church can erre.” “ The fift boke: of the Confvtacion of Tyndaie’s aunswere.” “ The sixt boke: The defence of the first argument agaynst lyndall.” “ The vii. boke. Here begynneth the seuent booke in defence of the second reason ; proouynge the knowen catholyke churche to be the verye churche of Chryste. Whiche seconde reason is, that we know not which is y scripture but by the knowen catholike church.” The eyght booke; in which is confuted doctour Barnes themtere toleTsf if ZZt Ty " da "’ a " d disburse money to paytthem, S eCl idt sold “The 6 B°V° 7 Bry B °° ke ° f ‘ hem that is P rinted ’ and un- sold The Bishop, thinking he had God by the toe said n" them all at Paul’s Crosse ’ d burne 3nd destro y clare^XlfmatterlT" ^ “ nt0 Wi,Ham Tinda11 ’ a " d d - the Bishop of London had the°’ho P r T P f Ct betWeene them ’ and Tindall had the money After this ^ j' thankes ’ new Testaments aroint ter ^is, Tindall corrected the same that they came thfck and threTld ‘h®” - t0 be neW ' y im P rinted > so bishop perceived that W "t o °}' er lnto England. When the cometh this that th ’ SeM f ° r Packm gton, and said to him. How nrom sed It 6 are S ° many new Testaments abroad > You ineton S jT“ W0U,d buy them a »- Then answered Pack- they have printed^mor^sLce' ‘ lleeTwih K 1 stamps too, and so you shaU be Te At ZY™ ^ u bUy tbe smiled, and so the matter ended i; 1 T ’ answer the Bishop Some account of Tunstall will be foundpJ° ' P ' ^ 7 ’ l641 ‘ HIS WORKS. 83 “ The ix booke ; Which is a recapitulacion & summary profe that the comon knowen catholyke churche is the verye true churche of Christ.” I have brought under one point of view the titles of all those treatises which More wrote against TINDALL, and which fill upwards of 500 pages of Tottel’s closely printed edition of our author’s works. That More could have found leisure for such lucubrations, whatever his inclinations might have been, is absolutely astonishing! From the following specimen, the reader will not be disposed to give Sir Thomas a very extraordinary share of praise ; or to become further acquainted with the subject matter of the controversy. “ What availeth it to lay manifest holy scripture to Tindall— that forceth so little, so manifestly to mock it ? Tindall cryeth out that every man misconstrueth the scripture, and then himself, ye see what construction he maketh ! Saint Paul sayeth plainly that Timothy received grace by the putting of his hands upon him. And Tindall letteth not to tell him as plainly, nay ; and that he did but stroke Timothy’s head, and call him good son, by likelihood, because he was but young. But howsoever Tindal list to trifle, these places plainly reprove and convict his heresy, and prove priesthood an holy sacrament. Now falleth he to railing upon the holy ceremonies of priesthood, as shaving and anointing! And first he saith, that if only shaven and anointed may preach or con¬ secrate the sacraments, then Christ did them not ; nor none of his Apostles ; nor any man in long time after ; for they used no such ceremonies. “ This is a worthy jest, I promise you. If me listed here to trifle as Tindall doth, I could ask him how he proveth that Saint Peter was never shaven ? sith I suppose he never saw him; or, if he would put me to prove that he was shaven, and therein when I could find no plain scripture for it, Tindall would not believe me, but if I brought forth his barber : I might tell Tindall again that I were not bounden, since the Scripture sheweth it not, to believe him that St. Peter was ever christened , till Tindall bring forth his godfather ! ! !” p. 429, 30. Our author very properly adds—“ But these phantasies of his and mine both go far from the matter.” 8 4 SIR T. MORE. In the British Museum there is a copy of the second book of the Confutation of Tindal, which is rather of rare occur- rence. 7. “ The Apology of syr Thomas More, knight, made by hym. Anno 1533. after that he had geuen ouer thoffice of lord chauncellour of Englande.” This work commences at p. 845, and concludes at p. 928, of Tottel’s edition. It contains 50 chapters ; and is written,' occasionally, in a manly and energetic, as well as in a pious' and moving strain. 8. The Debellacyon of Salem and Bizance made by syr Thomas More. Anno domini, 1533. After he had gyuen ouer the office of lorde Chauncellour of Englande.” The “ declaration of the tytle,” may give the reader some idea of the pleasure which our ancestors took in quaint and metaphorical productions—whether in Romance or in Re- ligion. 1 he Declaration of the Title. “ The debellation of Salem and Bizance, sometime two cr ea t EaTeValSchtr 7 *“ ** T “ k ’ b “ MDxxxm With a maS 1 n‘ PaSSed ’ * hlS PreSent year of our lord ’ turned teoto V rT u met ^o>-phoses, enchanted and witchcraft of ^ ; by WOnderful inventive wit and veyed ti her in ?7 “ “ y the Pae & r ’ and so by him con- eyed hither m a dialogue, to defend his division, against the ano logy of .Sir Thomas More knitrht lint „„ i, ■ , r that can. And if the Parifi 7 ^ that Wl11, and wm them such other towns with thfni TTTfeTT^h aga j n ’ and ten Thomas More hath undertake To put himselft t T" S, ' r alone against them all. But and if ho L , the . adventure - - ; HIS WORKS. 85 ; (age now so coming on, and waxing all unweildy) to go thither and i give the assault to such well walled towns, without some such lusty company as shall be somewhat likely to leap up a little more lightly.” p. 929. 9. “The ANSWER to the first part of the poysoned booke whych a nameles heretike * hath named “ The supper of the Lord'.' By syr Thomas More, knight. Anno 1533. after he had geuen oue’r the ofifyce of Lorde Chauncellour of Englande.” * John Frith was this “ nameles heretike.” I have reserved rather a copious account of him and his writings for my intended edi¬ tion of “Ames’s Typographical Antiquities : ” at present, it may be sufficient to remark that the reader will find him mentioned in Hall’s Chronicle, edit. 1550. fol. 225.; Bale Illustr. Brit. edit. 1559. p. 657, 658; and in Mr. Brydges’s Cens. Liter, vol, iii. p. 45, 6. Fox, in his Book of Martyrs, has given us some interesting particulars relating to him and to Sir Thomas More; the latter of whom, he says, “ perse¬ cuted him both by Land and Sea, besetting all the waies and havens, ; yea and promising great rewards if any man could bring him any newes or tydings of him.” It seems that Frith was at first unwilling to become a controversialist: a friend induced him to commit his “Disputation upon the Sacrame?it ,” to writing—when one William Holt, a taylor, (as he is described by Fox), obtained surreptitiously a copy of it, and brought it to More— “ who whetted his wits and called his spirits together as much as hee might, meaning to refute his opinion by a contrary booke ,”—“ but when this booke [viz. More’s answer] was once set forth, and shewed unto the world, then he [More] endevoured himselfe, all that he might, to keepe it from print¬ ing, peradventure lest that any copy thereof should come unto Frith’s hands.”—Fox, p. 306. More’s answer to Frith was replied to by the latter “out of prison, omitting nothing that any man could desire to the perfect and absolute handling of the matter.” Thus far Fox; who does not men¬ tion another antagonist of Frith of the name of Gwynneth, but whose work is noticed by Herbert, in his edition of Ames, vol. iii. p. 1436. Frith’s Reply to More was first printed, I believe, at Munster, to¬ wards the latter end of the year 1533. The title begins thus, “A boke, made by John Fryth, prysoner in the Tower of London, answer- ynge unto M. Mores letter, which he wrote agaynst the lytle treatyse that John Fryth made concernynge the Sacramente of the body and bloode of Christ, &c.” It was again printed in 1546 and 1547— an d twice in 1548; the two latter editions by Seres and Jugge. The 86 SIR T. MORE. This work,divided into four books, comprehends 113 pages of Tottel s edition. After p. 1138, where it ends, there should be an unnumbered leaf, pointing out some errors which had escaped in the printing of “ The debellacion of Salem and Byzance.” 10. “ A DYALOGUE of COMFORTE agaynste tribulacyon made in the yere of our lorde, 1534, by syr Thomas ore, knyghte, while he was prysoner in the tower of London, whiche he entitled thus as foloweth. IT A dya- logue of coumfort agaynst tribulacion, made by an Hun- ganen in laten, and translated oute of laten into frenche and oute of frenche into Englishe ” This is justly considered to be the most popular religious work of More It is written in a calm, easy, and impressive style, and will long outlive the original polemical discussions o the translator. When the first Latin, or the first English coll T 1 am uncertain : nor do I at present re- midH? W ^ et n there ^ any reprint ° f ft towards the in the'bl 11 S£Venteenth cent nry. It was neatly printed AD _ aC ^ f ter ’ In a sma11 octa vo volume, at Antwerp, and m hfu 7 f ° rthe ’ With man ^ P ]aces ^stored and corrected by conference of sundrie copies.” The dedi- a “*°l!“^ ered at the stake, for his writings, on the 4th day of July warded umoTe sTak" t C ,‘° be bumed « and «hen he stancy and courage he buffered d'emh^ Ppeared Wlth what “n- tion passed upon him in hk he sentence of condemna, “ **> wee pronounciTand ^ h “ out from the Church, and left unto the • a b heret " 3 ue > to be cast and now presently so doe leave Aee„i“o f S6Cular « judgement : most earnestlv r P n, • • , th ecuIar power, and their Jesus Christ, that this execufi,, tbe . m ’ m the bowel s of our Lord upon thee, may s t t0 be done treme, nor yet the geZleZTe'too I , ***”*** ** - 309 . edit. 1641. 8 °° mUch ^tgated, &c.”—Fox, vol. ii. HIS WORKS. 87 cation by the printer, John Fouler, to the “ Ladie Jane, Duchesse of Feria,” and the preface “To the Reader,” give some (superficial) account of the nature of the work. What renders this book of some value to the curious is, the Portrait of More on the leaf preceding the title of contents, which seems to have escaped Granger, and which is probably among the earliest impressions of him extant. Opposite, are six Latin and twelve rude English verses by the printer, who styles himself, both here and in the title page, “ A native of Bristol.” I have a beautiful copy of this rare book. The “ Dialogue of Comfort,” written in three books, com¬ mences at p. 1139, and ends at p. 1264, of Tottel’s edition. Two extracts from it are given towards the end of this book. II. “A TREATICE to receave the blessed BODY OF OUR LORDE, sacramentally and virtually bothe, made in the yeare of our Lorde, 1534, by syr Thomas More, knyghte, whyle he was prysoner in the towre of London, whiche he entitled thus as foloweth. To receaue the blessed body of our lorde, sacramentally and virtually both.” The following specimen, being the conclusion of this very short treatise, shews with what earnestness and piety the author could write—and seems to justify the report of him, in his younger days, when he gave lectures upon St. Austin De Civit. Dei , that, u The Seniors and grave Divines were not ashamed to learn divinity from so young a layman.”* Conclusion. “ Let us (good Christian readers) receive him in such wise as did the good publican Zacheus, which, when he longed to see Christ, and because he was but low of stature, did climb up into a tree : our Lord seeing his devotion, called unto him, and said “ Zachee, come off and come down, for this day must I dwell with thee.” And he made haste and came down, and very gladly received him * Knight’s Life of Colet, p. 30. S8 SIR T. MORE. nnrt ^ But n0t 0nly re ceived him with a joy of a lieht and soon sliding affection, but that it might well annear th A 4 received him with a sure earnest virtuous mind he proved i h" his virtuous works. For he forthwith was contented tr, A ^ compence to all men that he had wmnged Td L f ** St: trstsr J •“ « poor men !” ’ ° ne a f & 00c * s I do give unto gladness, and such spirited ^LnlT^th’ ° f SUCh Lord into his house our LnA „■ S , thlS man received our blessed body and blood his h 1 blVe Us t le & race to receive his ** - - bodies °and into °our godhead good works may bear witness nmn " . at the fruit of our him worthily, and in such a full faithAnd”^'^ 6 ’ ^ W£ reCeive of good living, as we be boundS a gracious sentence and say upon our soul J if ' G ° d glVe heus : Hodie salus facta elt huic domui “ TK ^ , UP ° n Zac ' salvation come unto this house ” wi.'’ , ' S day ls lealth and of Christ, which we verily in'the' blessed Sa *“ ^ " safe, good Christian readers, I2 ’fl A treatlce v P°n the passion of Chrystf ( finished), made in the vere nf „ , GHRYSTE ’ (™- Thomas More knyp-ht/ l f, £ ’ IS34 ’ by syr Tower of London,’’& c 7 " WaS pris ° ner in the This is an elaborate treatise* „ , P- 1404 of Tottel’s edition • and * " g fwm P ‘ I2 7 ° to manner, how superior the author’s n-Td “ & ^ Stnking of captivity with which he was surround" * ^ * A fine passage from it is given j„ a note ^ HIS WORKS. 89 13. Here folowe certein deuout and vertuouse instructions, MEDITACIONS AND PRAYERS made and collected by syr Thomas More, knight, while he was prisoner in the towre of London.” In Latin and English. From these two last publications, I present the reader with the following specimens of More’s talents for the composi¬ tion of Prayer. PRAYERS. “O glorious blessed Trinity, whose justice hath damned* unto perpetual pain many proud rebellious angels, whom thy goodness had created to be partners of thine eternal glory—for thy tender mercy, plant in my heart such meekness, that I so may by thy grace follow the motion of my good angel, and so resist the proud sug¬ gestions of those spiteful spirits that fell, as I may, through the merits of thy bitter passion, be partner of thy bliss, with those holy spirits that stood, and now confirmed by thy grace, in glory shall stand for ever.” p. 1273. “ Almighty God, that of thine infinite goodness didst create our first parents in the state of innocency, with present wealth and hope of heaven to come, till through the devil’s train their folly fell by sin to wretchedness, for thy tender pity of that passion that was paid for their and our redemption, assist me so with thy gracious help, that unto the subtle suggestions of the serpent I never so in¬ cline the ears of mine heart, but that my reason may resist them and master my sensuality and refrain me from them.” p. 1279. “ O holy blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ, which willingly didst determine to die for man’s sake, mollify mine hard heart, and sup¬ ple it so by grace, that through tender compassion of thy bitter passion, I may be partner of thine holy redemption.” p. 1290. “ Good Lord give me the grace so to spend my life, that when the day of my death shall come, though I feel pain in my body, I may feel comfort in my soul: and with faithful hope of thy mercy, in due love toward thee, and charity toward the world, I may through thy grace, part hence into thy glory.” p. 1299. * Condemned. 90 SIR T. MORE. “ 0 MY sweet Saviour Christ, which thine undeserved love to ard mankind so kindly would suffer the painful death of the cross J"i“ 6 me n0t t0 be C0ld or lukewarm ^ love again toward thee.” Pater-noster, Ave Maria, Credo. th “ ° H ° L 1 Y ™ nity ’ the Father > the Son, and the Holy Ghost three equal and co-eternal persons, and one Almighty God h* ’ mercy on me, vile, abject, abominable, sinful wretch • meek^ knowledgmg before thine high Majesty my long continued sTnM hfe, even from my very childhood hither^ w V • tul ,r d - * s“r S ein auctions and evh’custorn'm^reT" 6 ^ •t &Uh ’ through blinded, that I cannot discern them for sTn 1S J' th ... sensualit y *> Lord my heart, and give me thv e-rare to l ’ nd illumine good Wge U*m, i® “A"”’ Zl “" h <“* “ i* A For Friends. N - & m With Special “«n require*.” y d ’ aS godI >' affe ction and occasion (t F° r Enemies. « «viunT, „ G „S™''w»d" t ?- ■*? “ d °” *" ““ * - *»y. ”d riS ™ ” ““ “ d ““ best can devise, vouchsafe to amend and d W1Sd ° m saved souls in heaven together where d redress — and ma be us together with thee and thy blessed Saints 7 7 “ ^ ' 0Ve tbe bitter passion of our sweet Saviour Chrisul” ^ * 4 - “ Here folowe four Lfttfpc h- , • wrote after he had gyuen ouer the ^TofET™ 0 " 6 celiour of England, and before he was in^^' -the first, second, and fourth 1 Chancellor Cromwell; the third to R- * 7 _ wntten to the ’ tnird t0 K mg Henry VIII. 0 f HIS WORKS. 9 1 which I have carefully read the original, in More’s hand writing, among the Cotton MSS. in the British Museum. 15. “ Here folow CERTEIN LETTERS and other thynges, which syr Thomas More wrote while he was prisoner in the towre of London.” These are the interesting family letters which have found their way into almost every life of Sir Thomas. They con¬ clude the ponderous volume of Tottel, which comprises not fewer than 1458 pages. The colophon is as follows : “ Imprinted at London, in Fletestrete, at the sygne of the hande and starre, at the coste and charge of John Cawod, John Walley, and Rich- arde Tottle. Finished in Apryll, the yere of our Lorde God, 1557- Cum Priuilegio ad imprimendum solum. Thus have I presented the reader with an analysis of a book, not less remarkable for its rarity than for its intrinsic value. If any apology be necessary for the length of it, I must shelter myself under the authority of Dr. Johnson—who says, “ Of the WORKES of Sir THOMAS MORE, it was neces¬ sary to give a largefr] specimen, both because our language was then in a great degree formed, and because it appears from Ben Jonson, that his works were considered as models of pure and elegant style. There is another reason why the extracts from this author are more copious ; his works are carefidly and correctly printed , and may therefore be better trusted than any other edition of the English books of that or of the proceeding aged* —Hist. Eng. Language. * In the Duke de la Valliere’s Catalogue, No. 4402, there is said to 92 SIR T. MORE. It remains only to add that the Latin Works of Sir Tho mas More, consisting of Epigrams, the Utopia, a few letters annotations on Lucian, &c. were published at Basil, in 8vo’ IS 3 : at Louvain, in fol. 1566, and at Frankfort on the Maine, and Leipsic, in 1689, fol. This latter is a rare edition and is valuable inasmuch as it contains the Life of Sir Thomas More, by Stapleton.-See Cayley’s Life of Sir T M vo * '• 275 ; where the contents of the volume are specified. ’ be an edition of More’s Work nrint^ k d ,, . r This error has been “ wa Bite v- r;; IV. CngratieD portraits of £>tt 40ore. EFORE I present the reader with a “Catalogue raisonne ” of the various Portraits* which have been engraved of Sir Thomas More, it may be proper to lay before him a description of his figure and countenance, as they have been re¬ presented to us by two unquestionable authorities —ERAS¬ MUS, and More’s GREAT-GRANDSON. “ If (says Mr. Macdiarmid ■)*) some of the particulars of Erasmus’s description are so minute as to excite a smile, they, however, most forcibly shew the high value which the writer entertained for More, and the interest with which he observed the most trifling circumstances connected with him.” Erasmus's Description of More's Person . “To begin with what is least known to you of More, his person is rather below than above the middle size, yet not so much as to be at all remarked; while so perfect is the symmetry of all his * In the original plan of this “ Introduction Biographical and Literary,” the account of the “ Portraits of More ” was to have been omitted; but a second reflection has convinced me that it maybe considered not the least interesting part of this preliminary discussion. t Lives of British Statesmen, p. 25, note. 94 SIR T. MORE. limbs that no part seems capable of improvement. His skin is fair, his complex,on pale, yet in no respect sickly, but lil y tinged throughout with a delicate transparent red • his hairX “i *» *•> «■«» m «4 ,t: specks, a colour which usually denotes a most happy disposition and is even accounted beautiful among the British- while am ’ our people (the Germans) black eyesore heldt free His^o^ 3 CharaCt6r particularl y responding with his disposition, is C01 " fnendly cheerfulness, with somewhat of an habitual 6 ^ when once acauired it ik j-rc bad habits of which shoulder appears in walking somew^t $£ Znte Rft ^ “ «• ^7 rCS Great ' Grandson ' s description of Him. *»* countenance amiable and cheerful hk J ’ -u 768 grey > hlS b “‘ speaking plainly and dStlv 7 ^ b ' g nor sM1 - though he delighted much in music ' his h 7 ^ tUnable ’ ful; only that, towards his latter end h 7 reaSOnab,e hea1 *- c " p, “ d *• «*** i».» "fC' 3 d ' and be- stupidity or hard-heartedness Ne 0 ™ 7 ‘T eXpressions of to the lot of a human being to have 117 T^’ *** and perverted as More's have been a 7 “ oeen. At one time he is HIS PORTRAITS. 95 made to resemble a Turk ; at another time, an Officer of the Inquisition. One artist decorates him with the robes of “ Soliman the Great; ” another takes care to put around him those of a mountebank or a conjurer. Shaven or un¬ shaven—with a short or a long beard—we are still told it is Sir Thomas More! In physiognomical expression, he is often made to represent the drivelling ideot, as the con¬ sequential Lord Mayor ; and the immortal name of Holbein is subscribed to portraits, of which he not only never dreamt, but of which almost the meanest of his successors, in this country, might have been justly ashamed A Our subject, however, is Engraving and not Painting. In the following Catalogue, I have taken the liberty of differing from the arrangement of Granger, and of placing the portraits according to the order of time in which I con¬ ceive them to have been executed ; although, on this head, I beg leave to assure the reader that I do not speak with authoritative decision. It was not the good fortune of More to have his portrait engraved by either of his contemporaries, Albert Durer, Marc Antonio, or Aldegrever.*)* These artists never * See Note at end of this Cap. t The merits of these three artists are admirably appreciated by Heinekin, Wattelet, Huber, and Mr. Landseer. “Ne avecun heureux genie, (says the lively and scientific Huber,) Durer surpassa bientot, pour ne parler que de la gravure en cuivre , tous les artistes dans ce genre par la verite et la beaute de son travail. Sous sa main savante les progres de cet art nouveau furent rapides. II mettoit plus de dex- terite dans la coupe du cuivre, et plus d’aisance dans le maniement de l’outil. C’est encore a son esprit industrieux qu’on doit le perfection- nement de la gravure en hois et en clair-obscur, dont on a un grand nombre de pieces, Parmi les graveurs anterieurs ou contemporains d’Albert, ii y en a eu plusieurs qui se sont distingues, et dont les estampes sont encore recherchees par les curieux ; mais aucun ne Pa egale.” Manuel des Amateurs de l’Art. tom. i. p. 95. 6. Zurich, 1797. 8vo. The chef-d’ oeuvre of Durer is considered to be his St. Hubert : an BOSTON COLLEGE LIUUaKV CHESTNUT HILL, MASS. g6 SIR T. MORE. visited England ; and when our author went abroad to Cam bray, ,t is probable that his portrait had not been painted. For want, therefore, of such an accurate repre¬ sentation of him as either of these artists would have exe cuted, succeeding engravers seem to have copied only from each other; and, losing sight of the original of Hans Hoi- ein, of course propagated error instead of truth. Na " TH0MAS Morus Anglus. Anno itatis S o Within an oval border. Stroke. f 5 This portrait has been noticed at page 87 ante, as being "Sh y P lt;?a n b e eaut!n hiCh ^ impreSSio " S are -r y rare, and the “ Death’s Head”— r. U ‘ mpress,on of hls “Melancolia/’J learnedly expatiated in his « Lectures^ the^t haS 225, &c. ectures on the Art of Engraving/’ p. which is of thep^etARETiN —a e , ngraved b V Marc Antonio, que M. Antoine ait faite ” SeeYfeDicf e *: alb '“ la P Ius beIle piece Leips. i 77 8. 8vo. DlCt,0n - des Gra veurs, tom. i. 239. into eve/twi,7co„taed in jl e T ° f ‘"^fatigable research that some engraving ofMorema anc ‘ e nt hterature and the fine arts, Holbein inferib ZS “ enTavC i f ^ 7 ° f Hans great predecessor Albert Durer” this a f \ *° thmk that ’ like many things. Probably hk ™ 7 engraved,as well as painted, Holbein. Papilbn is ‘oniouT o' / T* A ' td ° rfer and his f^her Joh^ H. Holbein.—See his Traite H' enthusiastlc on tlle engravings of tom i. 1 66 , & c . Huber is mn 1S on q ue > &c. de la Gravure en Bois, Amateurs de l’Art, tom. i. ^ satlsfactor y* Manuel des t The words ff Stroke ?/;./,/• „ the different styles of engraving in’ I/W’ and Mezzotmt >” denote en 0 ravmg m which the portraits are executed. + I shall borrow Hubert aonnmt , • . from his “ Catalogue Raisonne du Cabinet d'Estf TZ par une femme ailee et largement drapee tenantTeT T 1 '"'” “ Fi S ur * et soutenant sa t6te de la main gauche D ! u * mam dr ° lte Un com P as > assis, et meditant sur un livre. Les a * dle 56 volt un P etit Genie aile, et rendus avec un proprete admirable.^r^T ^ C f m ° rCeaux sont infinis I’estampe incomparable ! En bas v P re . £S Cette ^ lece 8 ue Vasari nomme date de 1514. In fol.” Tom i nt / No E r01t ^ on a PP er 9 °it le chifre et la L No * r 44 o. Leipzig, 8vo. ,802. HIS PORTRAITS. 97 \ probably among the most antient impressions extant. It is executed on a leaf in More’s “Dialogue of Comfort ,” printed at Antwerp in 1573 ; and in the copy of this work which I possess, it is inserted immediately preceding the “Table of the Chapters.” No Engraver’s name. Unknown to Granger and Bromley. No. 2. THOMAS Morus. Beneath the portrait, two Latin verses—beginning “ Corporis effigiem dedit.” Stroke. This is the portrait of More which is inserted in Staple¬ ton’s Life of him, [vide p. 40 ante]. It is delicately exe¬ cuted, although the attitude and drapery are stiff. The left hand holds a scroll: the hands are the best parts of the pic¬ ture. The countenance has no sort of resemblance to Hol¬ bein’s portraits. No. 3. Thomas Morus, quondam supremus totius Angliae cancellarius Digniss. Anton. Wierx fecit et excud.— Stroke. A small print, about four inches in length, and three square. It has the head and shoulders only, and is very delicately executed. I consider it as one of the principal portraits of More, as it was copied for the Heroologia, and hence found its way, on a reduced or enlarged scale, into a variety of publications. Of its resemblance to the Original, I entertain strong doubts—or whether, indeed, it was ever engraved from a painting by Hans Holbein. A beautiful impression of it is in the Cracherode Collection. Some of the engravings of the WlERXES [John, Jerom, and Antony,] have an exquisite enamel effect; and their small figures, in which they delighted, are frequently drawn with surprising anatomical accuracy. No. 4. THOMAS Morus, Anglus. Four Latin verses be¬ neath, beginning “An memorem doctam magis .” — No G SIR T. MORE. 9 S Engravers name, but supposed to be engraved by P. Galle. — Stroke. More is here represented with a scroll in his right hand ermined robes, w itliout the chain—a cap with an upright front, like the co\ ering which is upon the head engraved by Vorsterman. The countenance is long, bony, and harsh, and quite unlike what I conceive to be a legitimate portrait of More. Unknown to Granger and Bromley. No. 5. Thomas Morus Cancellarius Anglle : Within a semicircle, ornamented with a bird at each comer of the plate. An open book and tablet are beneath, with a candlestick and pair of snuffers between. On the tab¬ let is inscribed, “ Nascitur Anglia , Obtruncatur , 7 Jullij\ Anno 1535.” At the bottom, two Latin verses begin¬ ning “Singultantem animam Mori ”•_ Stroke. From Boissard’s “Bibliotheca Chalcographia Viror. II- luMr. A book of considerable scarcity and value, and of which De Bure [No. 6107.] notices only the first edition of 1597 - It was republished in 1628, and is rarely found with all the parts complete. As this engraving seems, in the countenance, draper)-, and attitude, to be an exact copy of Galle’s, I have placed ’it as No. 5. It is undoubtedly an ancient one. The letter B is m the back ground, and Vu. at the end of the Latin verses. Slightly noticed by Granger. No ' 6 ' ‘ Thc true p °rtraicture of Sir Thomas More sometymes Lord Chanceloure of England, famous for let¬ ters. He died Anno, 1535. r, Elstracke, sculp .—Stroke. This portrait, which seems to have been unknown to Strutt is rather rare. It is executed within an oval,- around which is the following inscription: “Vera effigies Thomae Mon quondam totius Anglia: Cancellarii Dignis- HIS PORTRAITS. 99 simi, Etc.” At top, the crest is on the left, the arms on the right, of the oval—with the inscription “ Disce Mori mundi, Vivere disce Deo',' between. The left hand of More holds the cord and tassels attached to the Chancellor’s Seal— with a ring on the fore-finger, which is pointing in a stiff direction. The right hand holds a parchment roll. The costume of the head dress and robes, and the expression of the countenance, differ a little from the other portraits. Granger has slightly noticed Elstracke's engraving of More's portrait. There was a very indifferent copy of this print “ to be sold by Compton Holland, over against the Exchange.” Xo. 7. Thomas Morus Quondam Supremus Totius Ang- liae Cancellarius Digniss. With two Latin verses be¬ neath, beginning “ Hic est Ille Thomas .” From the Heroologia. The Cypher, A. B. subjoined. Stroke and Stippling. This head, as well as Vorsterman's, [though they are dis¬ similar from each other] served as a model for succeeding engravers, and was considered an accurate resemblance of Sir Thomas. The features are large, the expression is saturnine, the face long and bony, the cap high, upon a black cowl. The countenance is in the stippling, the robes and back-ground in the stroke, manner of engraving. There is a strong characteristic effect about it Xo. 8 . “ Effigies Thom.E Mori, Supremi quondam Anglia Cancella rij Quam ad vivum expressam. Stroke.—A. D. 1621. A small half length, executed with remarkable delicacy. The costume of the dress, and the arms and hands, seem to be an exact copy of Elstracke's—the great seal is omitted. Beneath is a dedication to Christopher de Blocquerie, Chancellor and Archdeacon in “ Eccl. Leodiensi,” with his 100 SIR T. MORE. arms as a Cardinal. At the bottom, it appears that it was dedicated to him by Joannis Valdor, Anno Domini, 1621. Very rare; Unknown to Granger, and slightly noticed by Bromley. A fine impression of it is in the Cracherode Col¬ lection. No. 9. Heroa cernis ? Morus EST : Fidei ille Martyr optima; : Keimelaion saeculi sui, &c., &c. L. V. Lucas Vorsterman, sculpsit. Stroke and Stipling. H. Hol- henius , pinxit. This is, I believe, the first engraved portrait of More to which the name of Hans Holbein is subscribed as the pain¬ ter. It is justly said by Granger to be “very different from is other portraits : ” so much so, indeed, as to excite a sus¬ picion in my mind whether Holbein ever painted it. The uncertainty attending the legitimate portraits of More by Holbein, which is amply discussed by the late Lord Orford (Anecd. of Painting), renders it rather probable that this was not painted by him, especially as it differs so much om the other portiaits, and in some respects, from the costume of the age. More is here represented with his right hand holding the end of his beard ; his upper lip is U R S f V , en ’ and his m0Uth is near, y covered with the hair which hangs down on each side in the form of whiskers* His left hand holds a small book, divided by the forefinger • a dog lies on a tablet before him. The cap on Mores head m 1 as one of Ho,bein ’ s by Huber * nes T s be ir w g I hen “ of its spuHous - pulled his beard aside, alteringthm,*' u ^ Up ° n , the block > he Nevertheless a long beard°was not Mo T committed treason. And yet it must be remembered that rC ? ordinar y habit of dress, was of necessity compelled to neo-Iect’Previously to his execution, he Edward II. in BerkefevK,«1,R. ff'«^-something like King in this situation ? y ' BUt W ° U ' d Holbei " ba ve painted him HIS PORTRAITS. IOI is smaller and shallower than the one usually executed by artists, and the countenance is sterner than we should con¬ ceive it to be from the description of Erasmus. The beard has a good deal in it of the Jewish character. The date [MIDCXXXI.] is subjoined to the Latin inscription beneath. Whatever may be the deficiencies of this engraving, on the score of likeness, it is most admirably executed by Vorsterman : “ dans les estampes duquel,” (says Basan, in his Diet, des Graveurs, tom. ii. 546.) “ on trouve une mamere expressive, beaucoup d’intelligence, et un art admirable de rendre les etoffes, ainsi que les differentes masses de cou- leurs, &c. The face and hands are in the stippling manner; the robes and background, in the stroke or line. I am in possession of a remarkably fine impression of it. This print was copied by numerous artists, with various success, as will be presently noticed. No. 10. Sir Thomas More. Within a small oval: In the title to his Latin Epigrams, in i2mo. 1638. Marshall , sc. Stroke. So described by Granger and Bromley. It was re-exe¬ cuted in 1639 for Alsop’s edition of the Utopia, in an en¬ graved title page, with the figures of Mercury, and a woman, crowning the oval, and the subscription “ Prudentia , , Elo¬ quential ’ This portrait is a copy of No. 7 * No. 11. Thomas Morus —“Hcec Mori Effigies , &c.” 4to. -From Granger. No. 12. A rudely executed head. A pen in the right hand, with the point of it on an open book. Stroke. No name subjoined. This is executed, as I conceive, after that of No. 4. by P. Galle: the robes, and general expression of the figure, being nearly the same. The ermine is so managed as to represent the “ quills upon the fretful porcupine. ’ A still more miserably executed portrait is the following one : 102 SIR T. MORE. No. 13. A fac simile in duod. of the same. Stroke. No. 14. Thomas Morus ; a fictitious head, neatly engraved by Gay wood, after Rembrandt; 4to. Etching. Granger is right in calling this a fictitious head, for it seems rather a resemblance of “ the Grand Turk,” than of Sir Thomas More. The head is shaven, with a small black cowl upon the top of it. The whiskers are curled. There is, however, great force of light and shade in the engraving. This portrait is not noticed by Walpole.* No. 15. Thomas Morus. An oval of about five inches long. Stroke. This is a clumsily executed copy of the preceding. It is not mentioned by Granger. No. 16. Talis erat Morus , quem sors infida peremit. Quod nollet Regi dicere blanda suo. A very excellent etching, without Engraver’s name, and copied from No. 9. by Vorsterman; the hands being re- versed-the left under the beard, the right opening the book. The dog is omitted. It is about four inches W and two and a half wide. Rare ; and Unknown to Grander and Bromley. No. 17. Thomas Morus. An indifferently executed copy of Vorsterman's, on a smaller scale, by E. de Boulonois Stroke. Not mentioned by Granger or Bromley. No. 18. Thomas Morus, Cancellier Van Engellant. Stroke This is the head only of Vorsterman’s portrait re-ex- prints : Jefixed, * * oi i;;. ;. p ; 0 : HIS PORTRAITS. 103 ecuted, without the hand under the beard. The plate is about a foot long, and seven inches wide. There is some merit in the execution. Rare. Unknown to Granger and Bromley. No. 19. Thomas Morus. Within an oval, with emble- matical ornaments beneath. Stroke. This also is a copy of Vorsterman’s, with the right hand under the beard. The dog lies on a monument, from which han-s the portrait of Holbein on a kind of scroll. The axe, partly covered with a black garment, lies at the bottom. This folio print is badly executed. Unknown to Granger. No. 20. Thomas Morus, Chancelier d' Angleterre, &c. Grave par E. Desrochers. Four French verses beneath. Stroke. A wretched likeness of Sir Thomas ; who is made large, athletic, and morose. It is an oval print. Unknown to Granger and Bromley. No. 21. THOMAS MORUS, in wood; with an ornamented border ; large \to. a foreign print. From Granger. No. 22. Vera Effigies Th0MJ£ Mori, Quondam totius An¬ glia; Cancellarii Dignissimi, &c. Stroke. A small oval print ; the right hand upon the Chancel¬ lor’s seals, the left on the breast. The arms beneath ; with the date of More’s birth and death inscribed on each side. A contemptible performance! No. 23. SIR Thomas More, Lord Chancellor. Stroke. A very small oval—part of the seals seen within it; three- quarter face, squinting. A very despicable production. Executed for the Abridgement of Burnet’s Hist, of the Re¬ formation, 8vo. 1683. p. I- It faces an equally bad portrait of the Chancellor Cromwell. 104 SIR T. MORE. No. 24. Same inscription as No. 23, and a facsimile of the portrait on a larger scale. A. White, sculpsit. Stroke. A very indifferent performance ; professed to be from a painting of Hans Holbein ! No. 25 Familia Thom* Mori, a Jo. Holbenio delineate. Cochin, sc. Outline. Oblong folio. Inserted at page 191 of “ Tabellas Selectee ac Explicate a Carola CatharinA PatinA a work pub¬ is e y Patin s widow, of which some account is given in ,, 6 " 0te beIow * This outline, which is called by Granger ^ry scarcer appears to be a copy of the famous picture sent to Erasmus by More, which is now preserved in the own Hall of Basil. It was copied by Holbein from a pic- ure which he had himself painted, and which was latterly m the collection of the Lenthalls, in Oxfordshire. The impassioned manner in which Erasmus describes this pain mg to More’s daughter, Margaret, leaves little doubt of the correctness of the likenesses. “ I want words,” says • ’ f XprCSS t0 you my dell ght on contemplating the ST ° If r family Which HoIbei " has so happily exe- were present with the originals, I could not have a more accurate idea of them. I see you all before e, no one more strikingly than yourself-in whose na.™" r;ic “ EX Semi- indifferently engraved by DesboiHker'1 Ch '’ d . m tbe Front ispiece, greater part of the prints fortv in n T Pamtlng ^ Guido - Tf >e and among them there is Li etching Tdntm 17 engraVed b >' Cochin S artist, of Titian’s celebrated picture of ,hpi J executed b y the same Collection at Paris, and considered b h R ° bber — now in the National d’ceuvre of the painter The Inst y man V connoisseurs as the clief- family of PA T i N %ngrav e d bv mL p,ate ‘ n » the handsome countenance which bears a strong Among the females, there is a portraits of Mrs. Siddons Neithe ““ t0 SOme of th e early us any account of this amusing and rarevdume! Br ° m ‘ ey ^ ^ HIS PORTRAITS. 105 Matures shine those mental accomplishments, those do¬ mestic virtues, which have rendered you the ornament^o your country and your age! Erasm. Epist. (Marg. Ro perse j This picture is divided into two groups. In the fore «round, to the right, are More’s daughters, Margaret an Cicely, kneeling—behind them, is their mother-in-law, Alice, in the same position ; while a marmoset is playing under the cushion before her. The second group a little retired, forms a line extending almost from one end of the picture to the other. In the centre ot this line, sit More and his father, with their hands enclosed under their sleeves John More, the son, and Henry Paten, are standing t e as in the group. Behind More and his father, stands Ann Cresacre, in her 15th year, to whom young More is sup¬ posed to be newly espoused. Elizabeth, More s second daughter, and Margaret Gigs (pointing to an open boo ,) stand the foremost in this second group. In the back¬ ground are a clock and a violin against the warascoat, an at a retired distance, through an open door, near a win ow, appear two men in close conversation. The original of this engraving seems to be a faithful re¬ presentation of a domestic scene in More’s family. For an account of its comparative merit with De Mechel s copy o the same picture, see No. 33. post. It is now very rare. No. 26. THOMAS Morus. M.B. (MichaelBurghers,) sc. Stroke. This print of More, which is unnoticed by Walpole, “was copied from an old print pasted before a manuscript life o More, by Rooper, which belonged to Mr. Murray of Sacom and which Mr. Hearne esteemed a great curiosity, and sup¬ posed it to be the first print of Sir Thomas that was done after his death. Burgher’s copy is prefixed to this boo which was published by Hearne.” Granger, vol. 1. P . 103. ed. 1804. io 6 SIR T. MORE. No. 27. Thomas Morus. feuspour unRoi cruel trap pen de complaisance, &c. followed by three more verses. P A Gunst, sc. From a painting of A. Vanderwerff. Stroke. The legitimacy of this portrait may be questioned Van derwerff; who was not born till upwards of a century after More’s death, must have copied it from the same original from which those of No. 3. and No. 7. were executed. More’ rs here represented with a stern large-featured countenance an a gure better calculated for a giant than one “ of mean stature.” The portrait is within an oval, which rests on a pedestal or basement, having a black piece of drapeiy falling over More s arms. It is a very common print. No. 28 Familia Thom^ Mori. Copied by Vertue from the outline of Cochin. No. 25. Stroke. Small oblong quarto : executed for Dr. Knight’s life of Erasmus, and usually inserted at p. 310 of that work * The curious should attend to the insertion of this print, which is ratd H miSS ' ng ’ Md 13 S ° ld f ° r rath6r a hi S h P ri =e sepa¬ rately. it 1S a somewhat finished engraving, having the ■ghts and shades admitted ; but, upon the Thole, it Is in! islosT 7 eXeCUted ' Granger tellS US that “ #* filate of No. 2 9 . SIR Thomas More, Knight, Lord Chancellor of England. G. Vertue, sculp, from Holbein. . This is the most common, and among the most faithful it very scarce, inserted at the back of n. X xxi of tin t *. } A LlSt ° f the Cuts >” is heads of Erasmus, Froben Sir H C •," r °^ Uct !° n - ° f these cuts, the VIII. and Cardinal Wd,£a^eatl f ^ F °King Henry head came to be omitted, as so much is said of V M ° RE ’ S accountable. There are some W ™ • r , f hlm m . the llf e, 1S on- extravagent price) struck off on largempeT!" 8 W ° rk (WhiCh Se " ^ an HIS PORTRAITS. 107 copies of the original; and whoever is in possession of a impression of it, will be convinced that Vertue has even im¬ proved upon his head of Erasmus, executed for Dr. Knight . fife of him. The best part of the portrait is the countenance , and of this, the eyes and mouth-which are very successfu y managed. The drapery and back ground are, *.usual worst parts of the picture: hard and brassy! VERTUE .3 v .. 1 01-t-ict • hut in the portrait line oi certainly a very unequal artist, but in t y engraving, he has eminently benefited his country. _ H fidelity is unimpeachable; and as he had access to originals, many of which are probably now lost, his works will always have a due value fixed on them by the judicious collector Whoever calls to mind his Sir William Temple Sir Ralph Winwood, and Dr. Fiddes, need not require further evidence of the powers of his graver to do justice to courtly elegance, unblemished integrity, and masculine sense. I am ready, however, to admit that his Women are almost invariably harsh and repulsive ; and that, if he had a oure for a century, he would never have produced that soft en¬ chanting effect which Powle accomplished in his head Mademoiselle d’Hamilton, in the Strawberry Hill edition of the Comte de Grammont : nor did he possess any thing of that tenderness and richness of execution, which have conferred lasting celebrity on the Females of STRANGE. o the dignified expression of Goltzius, and the exquisi e 11 - liancy°of Edelinck, he was equally a stranger. Vertue never “ sprinkled divers pretty inventions and capriccios (as Eve¬ lyn says of Albert Durer) throughout his works, but was content to sacrifise sportive elegance to rigid fidelity. Some of his Men, too, are unworthy of him ; especially the portrait of HEARNE— which seems to have been, copied from t e head of a ship, rather than from a human being! But these are venial imperfections. The many excellences of Vertue * What Mr. Landseer says of Marc Antonio may be well applied io8 SIR T. MORE. shine through the darkest veil which the most fastidious critic can fix around him. No. 30. Sir Thomas More. Engraved by Houbraken after a painting of Holbein, for Dr. Birch’s “ Heads of Ulus tnous Persons,” 1741. Stroke* The beauty of this engraving is sufficiently known, but it as faults m the midst of its beauties. The sagacity and shrewdness of More are exchanged for an unmeaning soft, ness; and like almost ail the men portraits of Houbraken male character is lost in a certain effeminate expression’ nes! of [he laPS ' “f degree ’ attributable to ‘he small¬ ness of the eyes of Houbraken’s heads, and to the soft lustre by which they are distinguished: though in “ Konstchilders’ executed so i rgh ” ^ 3 ^ 8m] ’ Houb «ken has sty le m P ° rtraitS ^ 3 b ° ld and tru 'y masculine Another fault of this engraving is, that it gives us the idea of a larger man than More is described to have been The drapery and background are nearly as hard as Vertue’s I has been frequently and closely copied ; with what success will be presently shewn. success, Within a broad-framed oval. M , " Br.tish 'L“" ! "“ d Pli " " ,he second rol "« of c« - ***. ac- 1VeS and Wntln gs of Eminent Persons in pronounces every sentence's^dktinrtf ^ e * tenor of oratory, but he that those who attend are convinced wth' W ‘ thaconfi(Jenceso n] odest - without a metaphor : there is somed ^P ersa aded. To speak his graver—something dry unambitio^ m 1S manner of employing which, by all sound critics has been , Unattractive to the sense : desiring it, and peculiarly appropriate t0 deserve P raise without not merely does not require^buf will not V V ° rk { S ° f a painter, who ornament.” Lectures on Engraving & ^ ** tke a * d of f° re ig n HIS PORTRAITS. 109 Great Britain and Ireland, from Wickliffe, &c. London, 8vo. MDCCLXVI.”—a publication, which deserves to be more generally perused. I am uncertain whether it extends e- yond the third volume, which ends with the life of Sir Francis Drake. The head of Sir Thomas More, of which it is my business to speak, is a wretched copy of Houbraken’s—in¬ deed, almost all the plates prefixed to these Lives, are sorry imitations of those in Dr. Birch’s splendid work. Unnoticed by Granger and Bromley. No. 32. Sir Thomas More. Tringkatn, sculp. Stroke. Within a fancied frame-work. A contemptible copy of Houbraken’s head, on a reduced scale. Not mentioned by Granger or Bromley. No. 33. Familia Thomji Mori Angli. Cancell. Large oblong folio. Outline. C. de Mechel, sc. et excudit. Basi- liae 1787. This scarce and well executed print is a copy of the same painting which was engraved by Cochin ; for an account of which the reader will consult, p. 104 ante. It appears to be a much more faithful representation of the original than Cochin’s :* many of the countenances have a different expression, and seem strongly to partake of the accuracy of the original likenesses. I suspect that Cochin suffered his outline to be a little directed by the then pre¬ vailing notions of fashion and taste. The present perform- * Among other proofs which might be adduced in confirmation o this remark, observe the countenance of John Moor, the son o Sir Thomas ! It has a very close resemblance to the drawing of him y Holbein, which was engraved by Bartolozzi for Mr. Cham er aine s magnificent publication. In Cochin's outline, the countenance of e son is distorted by being out of drawing; and that of Sir Ihom seems a little caricatured by an affected sprightliness of expression The countenances of the women too, in Cochin’s plate want much o the natural air and correct outline which distinguish those ot e Mechel. I IO SIR T. MORE. ance is executed in a ruder, but in a more bold and artist-like manner; and the names of the different characters, which are inscribed on the original painting, are here transmitted to the plate—in the hand-writing of the times. This print was published since the death of Granger, but it is unno- ticed by Bromley. No. 34. Sir Thomas More. Grignion , sculp. Stroke Within a circle-border. This is a very poor effort of Grignion s graver. It is copied from Houbraken’s head, but the chief similitude consists in the cap, gown, and collar. No. 35. SIR Thomas More. T. Holloway direxit. Stroke. From the sumptuous quarto edition of Lavater’s physiog¬ nomy; in which Mr. Holloway has frequently reached the topmost point of perfection in the art of engraving. His Ju ms Caesar,” copied in some degree from the bust in Dr. arke s magnificent edition of the commentaries, has hardly been equalled: it is beyond all praise. The present portrait of More is well executed • but it never could have been intended for a faithful one. Our author ,s here represented with a fat jowl, bulbus nose, and rizzled wig-wholly dissimilar to every preceding and sub¬ sequent portrait. & ° N ° p 3 . 6 ' T f,° : M00R ’ Ld Chancelour. Bartolozzi, sculp. n '° m . r ‘ Chamberlaine’s publication of the Holbein Drawings, in his Majesty's Collection, 1793 stit, Of all the portrait, of More,,!* has probably,he strongest resemblance to the Original. I„ execution, by BnrtoloTi uncalled. Sir Thomas i, however made, contrary o the usual description of him by his biographers to * Lit frowmngly , " bu, there is a shrewdness lj^ y very'lhtle mo" T'L" "hichLoLprehe” ery httle more than the shoulders, is nearly as large as life ; HIS PORTRAITS. 111 and though executed with all the delicacy of the stiphng department of the art, it has a powerful effect upon the be- holder. No. 37. Tho. Moor, Ld. Chancelour. R. Dalton, fee. Etching. A wretched copy of the preceding beautiful head by Bar- tolozzi. The sagacious frown of More is converted into an I unmeaning smile ; and the mechanical execution of the plate is feeble and unartist-like. Printsellers sell it for a shilling or two. No. 38. FAMILIA THOMiE Mori, Anglise Cancellarii. Small oblong folio. Aquatint. Basil, A. D. 1794 * Although from the subscription, this print would appear to have been executed at Basil, it is an English one ; being a copy, on a reduced scale, of the outline of More’s family engraved by Christian de Mechel. [See No. 33.] The light and shade is successfully managed ; but the countenances of More and his father are not only unlike, but a good deal out of drawing. The women are the best executed ; and yet the countenance of More's wife would indicate that Gerard Dow, and not Holbein, had been its designer. I never saw a copy of this print but the one in the Cracherode Collection. No. 39. Sir Thomas More. Freeman, sc. Stiphng. Prefixed to the “Lives of British Statesmen;”* and copied, on a reduced scale, from Houbraken’s portrait. This is a * Mention is made of this work at p. 48 ante : since writing that account of it, the author is no more! 0 fallacem hominum ailenl fortunam, et inanes nostras contentiones .' I knew not M . Macdiarmid personally: “tantum vidi ’’-but those to well known, unite their testimonies in bestowing on him the praise an amiable and upright man, as well as of an elegant and vigorous writer. Some account of him appeared in Dr. Aikin s Athenseum, vol. iii. p. 377* I 12 SIR T. MORE. truly beautiful engraving, and, in its style, by far the best repiesentation of what we should conceive the Original to have been. Mr. Freeman is a justly rising artist : while his graver can boast of such a head as that of Lord Strafford (in the same work), he has little to fear from the efforts of competitors. No. 40. “Your humble orator and moostbounden bedeman Thomas More.” Engraved by Philip Audinet, for Mr’ Cayley’s edition of More’s life. Stroke. 1808. This engraving, which is professed to be copied from a painting by Hans Holbein, is an imitation of Houbraken’s ead. The mechanical part of it is well done, but one could have wished to have seen the locks of More not quite so formally curled. No. 41. Sir Thomas More. Engraved by James Hop- wood, from an original by Holbein. Stipling. 1808 ert V SU “^ " eat engravin g : bein g a frontispiece to an 1 ion10 the Utopia, which is hereafter noticed. It is copied fr °“ ‘ >»■ the features „1 Sit Tho m "'„1 specially the nose, are too large for the contour of the head a shorfm 6 13 t0 ° h ‘ gI l UP ^ the ° Val t0 glVe US the idea of a short man, as was the original. [Mr. Cole, in one of his Manuscript Volumes fVol 2S n reo) • • an account of some pictures which he saw in Nov „ 6 ? at\ 52 SS -53* "» ? i. i 1 t In another place he say^ s ‘ hm * Ve T bellent.” picture of Bishop Fisher, with onLfsi^Th" 13 ^’ “ indifferent Plunket, &C, on a staircase near the PHo ’ ^ Archbisho P Benedictines at Paris* but a r s apartment of the English More, by Holbein, in the fine co le°c S t TC'® ° ne of Sir Thomas Palace Royal at Paris also.”]—Sir Dt ‘ ke of ° rle a n s, at the V. 6&ttton0 of tl)c Utopia. \Circ. A.D. 1516.] IBELLUS vere aureus nec minus salutaris quam festivus de optimo Reipublicae statu, deque nova Insula Utopia, authore clarissimo viro Thoma Moro, inclytae civitatis Londin- ensis cive et vicecomite, cura M. Petri Aigidii Antuerpiensis, et arte Theodorici Martini Alustensis Typo- graphi almae Louaniensium Academiae nunc primum accu¬ ratissime editus. Cum gratia et privilegio : ” 4to. On the other side of the leaf which contains the Title, is “ Vtopiae Insulae Figura;”* followed by “Vtopiensium Alphabetum. _ Tetrastichon vernacula Utopiensium lingua— et Horum versuum ad verbum sententia. —Hexastichon Anemolii Po¬ etae Laureati Hythlodei, &c.— Clarissimo D. Hieronimo Buslidio Petrus ^Egidius, S. D.—Johannes Paludanus Cas- sitelensis, M. Petro Aigidio, S. D.— Ejusdem Johannis Pa- ludani in novam Insulam Vtopiam Carmen.—Gerardus Noviomagus de Vtopia, (i. e. Carmen).—Cornelius Grapheus ad Lectorem, (Carmen.)—Hieronymus Buslidius Thomse Moro, S. D.— Praefatio in opus de optimo Reipublicae statu, Thomas Morus Petro yEgidio, S. P. D.” These introductory pieces occupy the first twelve pages of the book, which contains only fifty four (unnumbered) leaves. The last page * A sort of View-map, without human figures. H EDITIONS OF 114 is filled with the device of Theodore Martin. It is printed in the Roman Letter, without marginal annotations. Editio Princeps, on the authority of Panzer; [vii. 261.] who cites Baumgart-Nachr. 1 . p. 541. S q. Vonderhardt, 1 . c. ii. p. 52. the latter of whom supposes it to be printed in 1 5 17- There is no date expressed in the title page ; and the above one, being put within a parenthesis by Panzer, may be considered as doubtful. We may, however, draw something like an accurate conclusion as to the period of its publication, from the following circumstances. Accord¬ ing to Peter Giles’s letter to Buslidius, dated Nov. 1516, it is evident that the former speaks of an intended edition of Utopia—for he says, “ I know of nothing requisite to add to this narrative but a metre of four verses, written in the Utopian tongue, which Hythloday shewed me on the de¬ parture of More : this, with the Utopian alphabet and some marginal quotations, is all I have thought proper to sub¬ join. Not a syllable is inserted of any printed edition : the work, therefore, was most probably in that state of MS. in which P. Giles describes it, at the opening of his letter, to have been as “ sent to him the other day by Sir Thomas More.” Now, as Buslidius was provost at Arienum, it is barely possible for the work to have been printed at Lovain in the month of December. Another circumstance may be considered. In Stapleton’s life of More, p. 206. there is a letter from More to Warham, Archbishop of Canterbury, in which the former observes that “ his friend P. Giles had thought the work deserving of publication, and had caused it to be without his know¬ ledge.” The date of this letter is not mentioned ; but we find that it was written to the Archbishop on his resigna¬ tion of the Chancellorship ; which took place, according to Godwin* in the year 1515. [Warham was succeeded by * De Praesulibus Anglia;, edit. Richardson, p. 135. THE UTOPIA. 1 15 Wolsey and More.] There is nothing in the letter which induces us to suppose it was written immediately after the resignation, though most probably it was not written later than 1516. It is, however, worth while observing that Erasmus, in his Epistle to Froben, prefixed to the Basil edition of 1518, and written in September, 1 5 1 7 » makes no mention whatever of a printed edition of the Utopia a copy of which he sends his friend Froben, as if it were to gain immortality from being printed in his office. Will it not,” says he, “delight the learned when it is known to have issued from the press of Froben ? ” Upon the whole, although we should have naturally ex¬ pected the first edition of the Utopia to have been printed at Antwerp, under the immediate superintendence of Peter Giles, (as he resided in that city, yet, on the authorities ad¬ duced by Panzer, there is nothing improbable in its having been first printed by Theodore Martin, at Louvain, in i 5 * 7 * A copy of this very rare book is in the British Museum, which was bequeathed to it by the late Mr. Tyrwhitt ;* and another is in the extraordinary collection of Mr. Heber. A.D. 1518. “De Optimo Republicae Statu, deque nova insula Utopia, libellus vere aureus, nec minus salutaris quam festivus, clarissimi disertissimique viri THOM^E MORI, inclytae civi¬ tatis Londinensis, civis et Vicecomitis,” with the Latin Epi¬ grams of More and Erasmus. At the end of Buslidius Epistle to More, p. 168, occurs the following subscription, “ Basilece apud Joannem Frobenium Mense Novembri , AN. M.D.XVIII.” At the end of the volume, p. 355 » there is the same subscription, with the substitution of the word De¬ cember. * In 1786.—Sir H. Ellis. EDITIONS OF 116 Editio Princeps secunda. This is the second edition of the Utopia, and may be now considered a rare and curi¬ ous volume. The title page is printed within an engraved compartment of an arch, decorated with winged boys, and wreaths of flowers. At top, in the corners, are the words “ Hans. Holb.” denoting, I conceive, this great artist to be the designer of the frontispiece. The printer’s device, of the hands grasping Mercury’s Caduceus, is at bottom. The same ornaments occur in the fourth page of More’s Epistle to Peter Giles, which precedes the first book of the Utopia. At the back of the title page is the following epistle from Erasmus to Froben. Erasmus Roterodamus Joanni Frobenio Compatri SUO CHARISSIMO. S. D. Cum antehac omnia Mori mei mihi supra modum sem¬ per placuerint, tamen ipse meo judicio nonnihil diffidebam, ob arctissimam inter nos amicitiam. Cseterum ubi video doctos uno ore omneis meo subscribere suffragio, ac vehe¬ mentius etiam divinum hominis ingenium suspicere, non quod plus ament, sed quod plus cernant, serio plaudo meae sententiae, nec verebor post hoc quod sentio, palMn eloqui. Quid tandem non praestitisset admirabilis ista naturas felici¬ tas, si hoc ingenium instituisset Italia ? Si totum Musarum sacris vacaret, si ad justam frugem ac velut autumnum suum maturuisset ? Epigrammata lusit adolescens admodum, ac pleraque puer. Britanniam suam nunquam egressus est, nisi semel atque iterum, principis sui nomine legatione fungens apud Flandros. Praeter rem uxoriam, praeter curas domes¬ ticas, praeter publici muneris functionem, et causarum undas, tot tantisque regni negociis distrahitur, ut mireris esse ocium vel cogitandi de libris. Proinde misimus ad te progymnas- mata illius et Utopiam, ut si videtur, tuis excusa typis, orbi posteritatique commendentur. Quando ea est tuae officina. autontas,ut liber vel hoc nomine placeat eruditis, si cognitum THE UTOPIA. ii 7 sit e Frobenianis sedibus prodisse. Bene vale cum optimo socero, conjuge suavissima, ac melclitissimis liberis. Eras- mum filiolum mihi tecum communem, inter literas natum, fac optimis literis instituendum cures. Lovanij viii. Cal. Septem. AN. M. D. XVII. This address is succeeded by Budaeus’s letter to Lupsetus. after which (p. ii.) we have the following “Hexastichon Anemolii Poetae Laureati, Hythlodtzi ex Sorore Nepotis in Utopiam Insulam .” Utopia priscis dicta, ob infrequentiam, Nunc civitatis aemula Platonicae, Fortasse victrix (nam quod ille literis Delineavit, hoc ego una praestiti Viris et opibus, optimisque legibus) Eutopia merito sum vocanda nomine. On the reverse of this page is a wood cut of a bird s eye view of Utopia, with three human figures at bottom ; two of which are here ex¬ actly copied ; these I con¬ jecture to be More and Hythloday. The Utopian Alphabet, with a “Tetra- astichon Vernacula Utopi- ensium Lingua” faces this wood cut. Then follows Peter Giles’s letter to Bu- slidius, which is dated Nov. 1516. At page 17 com¬ mences More’s letter to Pe¬ ter Giles, within a compartment similar to that of the fron tispiece ; and at p. 25, with a vignette similar to the second one in this edition (from which indeed it was in part copied), commences the Romance of the Utopia, which terminates at p. 162 ; the remainder being occupied with the Epigrams i IS EDITIONS OF of More and Erasmus. I suspect that all the engraved and typographical ornaments of the book were designed by Holbein. The frontispieces to More’s and Erasmus’s Epi¬ grams are very elegantly executed, especially the latter. The engraver’s mark is a V, in the midst of a volute or curl, like a G ; which, from Christ’s Diet, des Monogrammes, [edit. 1750. p. 281.] I suppose to stand for Von Goar. This second edition of More’s Utopia, though by no means executed in the best style of Froben’s press, is, notwithstand¬ ing, rather an elegant volume, and is faithfully printed. It is briefly described by Maittaire, vol. ii. 323, and by Panzer, vol. vi. 205 ; which latter refers to Gesner, 1. c. p. 80. Thott vii. p. 2i 1. Bibi. P. Nor: Bibl. Schw. jun : Bibl. Dilherr. and to his own collection. A. D. 1519. “ Thom ^ Mori de optimo Reipublicae statu, deque nova Insula Utopia libellus. Epigrammata pleraque e graeco versa. Item Desiderii Erasmi Roterodami Epigram¬ mata. Vienna Pannonia per Joannem SingreniumP 4to. 1519. This is noticed by Panzer, on the authority of Denis, 1. c. p. 204. It is probably a reprint of the Basil edition. A. D. 1548. “De Optimo Reipub. Statu, Deque nova Insula Utopia, libellus vere aureus, nec minus salutaris quam festivus, clarissimi disertissimique viri Thoivle Mori inclytae civitatis Londinensis civis et Vicecomitis. Lovanij, Ex¬ cudebat Servatius Sassenus impensis viduae Arnoldi Birkmanm. Anno Salutis, 1548. Mense Junio.” 8vo. At the back of the title page, there is a privilege granted to the printer for the exclusive printing, selling, and dis¬ tributing, of this work for the space of the four following THE UTOPIA. 119 years. It is dated at Brussels, xx Mar. M. D. xlvij, and signed FACUWEZ. This edition seems to be a reprint of Froben’s, for it is arranged precisely in the same order, and contains the same matter. Peter Giles’s letter to Buslidius, More’s to Giles, and the two books of the Utopia, are printed in italics : the remainder in the Roman letter. On the re¬ verse of p. 181, (at the end) is a list of errata : this is followed by a print of a man crowned with laurels, grasping in his left hand a twisted snake, and laying his right upon a lob¬ ster : between the lobster and the man’s body, there is this inscription, within a square frame work—“ Si LAXES ERE- PI X j”_around the snake, “ Si Stringas, ERUMPIT. * A part of a house is seen in the back ground. The print is a curious one ; and as it is struck off on a separate leaf, the purchaser should always see that he is in possession of it. A copy of this edition is in the British Museum. A. D. 1555. « De Optimo Reipub. Statu, Deque Nova Insula Utopia, Libellus vere aureus, nec minus salutaris quam festivus, clarissimi disertissimique viri THOMZE Mori, inclytae civitatis Londinensis civis et Vicecomitis. Coloniae, Apud haeredes Arnoldi Birckmanni, Anno M.D.LV.” i2mo. With Birckman’s device of a cock supporting a tree, sur¬ rounded with an ornamental frame: at bottom “ARNOLD BlRCKMAN.” This edition is an exact reprint of the preceding, both as to matter and manner. The italic letter is larger and more elegantly formed, but the paper is wretched.f * The same device appears in the title-page of Sassinus’s edition of “ Damianus Goes, de Bello Cambaico ultimo Comment. Tres. 1549- 4 to. t There is a copy in the British Museum.—Sir H. Ellis. 120 EDITIONS OF A. D. 1563. “ Utople, Libri II.” Printed as the first article of the “ Lucubrationes Mori ” Basil, apud Episcopium F. 8vo. 1563. This accurate edition comprehends the first one hundred and sixty-four pages of the Basil edition of our author’s Lucubrations; and is, I believe, the only octavo one of his minor Latin works complete. It contains the usual pieces printed with the Utopia. Th Epigrams, Letters , &c. which comprise two thirds of the volume, are neatly printed in the italic type. It is by no means a common book. Wood er¬ roneously calls it a quarto. Athen. Oxon. i. 39. The Utopia was also reprinted in the Latin Works of More published at Louvain in 1566, and at Frankfort on the Maine and Leipsic in 1689.* A. D. 1591. Libellus vere Aureus nec minus salutaris quam festivus de optimo Reip. Statu, deq ; nova Insula Utopia, authore clariss. Viro Thoma Moro, inclytae civitatis Londinensis cive et vicecomite, cura M. Petri ^Egidii, Antuerpiensis, et arte Theod. Martini Alustensis, Typographi almae Lovaniensium Academiae, nunc primum accuratissime editus. Witebergae ex Off. Cratonianae, anno 1591.” 8vo. The editor seems to have taken some pains to render his edition as accurate as possible. It contains the usual intro- * It likewise occurs with the following Title in Dornavino’s Amphi- heairum Sapientiae Socraticae joco-seria,. fol. Hanov. 1619, p. 822. Illustris. Yin Thoma, Mon Regni Britanniarum Cancellari^ De op- timo Reipubhcae statu, deque nova Insula Utopia, Libri duo. Scrip- turn vere aureum nee minus salutare quam festivum, quod ex Erasmi oterodami, Guhelmi Budaei, ahorumque magnorum virorum mag¬ norum virorum commendationibus, qua, Epistolis praefixis continentur, liquidum dubitantibus euadet.”-_Si r H. Eliis. THE UTOPIA. 121 ductory matter, and, in point of correctness, may rank after the Basil edition of 1563. A.D. 1601. « /Hustris Viri T horna Mori Regni Britan. Cancel. De Op¬ timo REiPUBLlCiE Statu, Deque Nova Insula Utopia, Libri Duo: Scriptum vere aureum, nec minus salutare, quam festivum, quod ex Erasmi Roterodami, Gulielmi Budaei, aliorumq. magnorum virorum commendationibus, quae Epistolis praefixis continentur, liquidum dubitanti¬ bus evadet. Nunc tandem bibliotaphis subreptum, et in gratiam politicorum, consilio et cura Magnifici Eberarti bon illustriss. ac potentiss. Pr. ac. Dom. Dn. Mauritio, Hessiae Landgravio, &c. a consiliis editum. Francofurti: Ex Officina Saurii MDCI. i2mo. This elaborate title page sufficiently explains the contents of the edition. It has the usual introductory pieces, and is printed in a large and handsome type, upon very indifferent paper. The text, as far as I have found it necessary to con¬ sult it, does credit to the accuracy of the editor. A.D. 1613. “ Illustris viri Thomae Mori, Regni Britanniarum Cancellarii, De optimo Reipublicae Statu, Deque Nova Insula UTO¬ PIA, Libri Duo : Scriptum vere aureum, nec minus salutare, &c. Hanoviae ; Typis J. J. Hennei ; sumptibus Petri Kopffij, MDCXIII.” i2mo. This wretchedly printed, but accurate, edition contains the usual epistles of More, Budaeus, Buslidius, and Giles. The type of the text is something like Foulis’s : the paper gives it a wretched aspect. A copy of it is in the British Museum, which was once Frederick Lindenbrog.’s —“’Ere rcbv Fndenci Lindenbrogij ” being inscribed on the inside of the cover. 122 EDITIONS OF A. D. 1629. “Thoma: Mori Utopia, a mendis vindicata, et juxta Indicem libror, expurgat. Card, et Archiesp. Toletani correcta. Coloniae Agrippinae apud Corn, ab Egmond et Socios, anno 1629. 321110” Within an elegantly engraved com¬ partment, with three female figures of Plenty, Justice, and Peace, sitting beneath—as the title-page. This diminutive pocket edition contains the usual epistles of More, Giles, Buslide, and Lupset, with an additional one from J. Palludanus of Cassel, to Peter Giles—in which the English are thus complimented. “ Felicem Britanniam ! quae nunc ejusmodi floreat ingeniis, ut cum ipsa possent antiquitate ceitare. Nos stupidos ac plus quam plumbeos, si ne tam vicinis quidem exemplis ad eam laudem capessen¬ dam expergefieri possumus.” Towards the conclusion of his letter, Palludanus wishes that “the Utopians would re¬ ceive our religion, in return for the ideas of legislation which we have derived from them—“ That might be accomplished [continues he, gravely,] if some of our most famous theolo¬ gians would make a voyage thither! ” After mentioning that he had almost entirely deserted the Muses, he ventures on the following verses : “In novam Insulam Utopiam .” Fortes Roma dedit, dedit et laudata disertos Graecia, frugales inclyta Sparta dedit. Massilia integros dedit, at Germania duros Comes ac lepidos Attica terra dedit. Gallia clara pios, quondam dedit Africa cautos, Munificos olim terra Britanna dedit. Virtutum ex aliis aliarum exempla petuntur Gentibus, et quod huic desit, huic superat. Una semel totam summam totius honesti Insula terrigenis Utopiana dedit. This curious little edition contains 266 pages, and as it is THE UTOPIA. 123 one of the few castrated editions, it may be valued by the collector. A copy is in the British Museum. A. D. 1663. « THOMAS Mori Utopia, a Mendis vindicata. Oxonii Typis W. Hall. Impensis Fran. Oxlad. Anno 1663. 321110. This little pocket volume contains, with the usual intro¬ ductory pieces, the preface of Froben, and the epistle and verses of Palludanus. The Romance concludes at page 264. The type, though small, is sufficiently distinct—which makes it a very pleasant “Post-chaise companion, as Di. Harwood somewhere styles an edition of an ancient classic. A. D. 1750. « De Optimo Reipublicse Statu, Deque Nova Insula Utopia, Libri II. Auctore Thoma Moro, Equite, Angliae Can¬ cellario. Ex prioribus editionibus collatis accurate ex¬ pressi. Glasguce , in FE dibus Academicis Excudebant Robertus et Andreas Foulis, MDCCL.” 8vo. This edition is the most common Latin one extant. It is executed in the usual elegant and accurate style of Foulis’s press, and contains, at the beginning and end, the letters which generally accompany the Romance. The text of the Utopia is printed in a large and distinct type ; of the Letters , in a smaller one. I never saw, nor heard of, a copy of this work on large paper. It is the only Latin edition of the Utopia which French bibliographers have noticed. Diet. Bibliograph. t. II. p. 272. edit. 1790. This account of the Latin editions , although far from being perfect, (for many were circulated abroad which have probably never reached this country,) may be considered sufficiently ample to direct the collector in the choice of the leading publications of the Utopia in the Latin language. 124 EDITIONS OF Italian. A.D. 1548. “La Republica Nuovamente Ritrovata, del Governo dell’ Isola Eutopia, nella qual si vede nuovi modi di gover- nare Stati, reggier Popoli, dar Leggi h li Senatori, con molta profondita di sapienza, storia ndmeno utile che necessaria. Opera di Thomaso Moro Cittadino di Lon- dra. In V inegi a, MDXLVIII.” l 2 mo. With the device of an elegant female, turning to the left, and looking through a mask—her robes floating in the’ wind . she is seated on a kind of rock, from which a slender branch vegetates, and partly encircles her— harmonizing very gracefully with the attitude. This forms the title-page. At the second leaf begins an epistle, (from the translator, I suppose,)* “AI Gentilissimo M. Gieronimo Fava,” which oc¬ cupies three pages—The table of the chapters, into which the ten books of Utopia are divided, begins at fol. 4, and ends at fol. 5. There are fifty-three chapters : the greater part, especially of the first book, quite unnecessary. More’s letter to Giles begins at fol. 6: of which the following may probably be considered a fair specimen of the translation. Hora > levatl via tai pensieri ne i quai faceva mes,fieri sudare d' avantaggio, ageuolmente potevasi scrivere , si come era stata udita. Benche le mie altre emprese m' hano lasciato poclassimo tempo a fornire cost leggiera cosa, trattando, udendo , determinando, e giudicando io assiduamente le cause del foro, visitando hor questo per benignitd e mio debito, hor quello per es.eguire le facede importanti: e finalmente dispensando fuori quasi tutto il giorno, et il rimanente per le mie cose famigliari non lascio a me cive d le lettere tempo alamo. Perche ritornato die sono d casa, mi bisogna ragionare con la moglie, gridari Si*H iS p, S ,“ bSCribedat tHe end ’ " Votro ^«bonatissimo il Doni.”- THE UTOPIA. 125 con i figliuoli , pariare con i ministri. Tutte le quai cose to annovero tra le imprese , necessarie in vero , non volendo esser ne la casa propria come forestieri . Perche dobbiamo esser benigni verso coloro , che 0 per natura , where the translation is as¬ signed to Doni.* A copy is in the British Museum. b French . A. D. 1550. “La Description de ITsle d’Utopie, oh est comprins Le Miroer des Republicques du monde, et l’exemplaire de vie heureuse: redige par escript en stille treselegant de grand’ haultesse et maieste par illustre bon et scavant personnage THOMAS MORUS citoye de Londre et chace- * See the note p. 124. 126 EDITIONS OF lier d’Angleterre. Avec l’Epistre liminaire composee par Monsieur Bude maistre des requestes du feu Roy Fran- coys premier de ce nom. Avec privilege—A vendre, &c. en la Bouticque de Charles l’Anglier devant la Chapelle de Messieurs les Presidens.” 1550. 8vo. Premiere Edition Fran^oise. On the back of the title-page is the privilege granted to the printer for the three following years exclusive sale—signed Du Tillet, and dated 1549. The epistle of Budaeus comes next in order. At folio 1, (for the book is numbered by leaves,) opposite some verses of the translator, (which succeed Budaeus’s epistle,) we have a well executed wood-cut, in which Hythlodaeus is repre¬ sented as reciting his narrative to More, Giles, and Clement —all of them in the Roman costume. At p. 2 the first book of the Romance commences, with a wood-cut of More in profile, sitting in his study, composing the work. This cut is repeated at the commencement of the second book. The second book is divided into chapters, (something in the manner of this present edition,) with wood-cuts at the head of each. These cuts, all of them in the Roman costume, are well executed; the greater part are repeated. At fol. 105 the Romance concludes. On the next leaf there is a sort of colophon, by which it appears that Jehan Le Blond was the translator :* at the back, is his address to the reader in which, after craving pardon for errors committed, he thus concludes— “En sorte que si nous n’usios que de termes * “ Cy fine le devis et propos dapres disner, de Raphael Hythlo- deus, touchant les loix et meurs de l’Isle d’Vtopie”-“tourne en langue Franpoyse par maistre Jehan Le Blond.” In the Memoirs of M. Sorbiere prefixed to his “ Voyage to Eng¬ land, 8 vo. Lond. 1709* we have a reference to a French version of the Utopia, which Mr. Dibdin does not seem to have met with. P. iii. M. Graverol, the writer, observes, “ Sorbiere, during his stay in Holland (1642-1645) help’d to trans¬ late Cambden s Britannia, which was to be put into one of the tomes THE UTOPIA. 127 vulgaires et communz a chascun, nostre langue nen enrichi- roit d’un flocquet, et fauldroit tousiours faire comme les tabellions et notaires, qui en leurs actes ne chagent ne muent de stille.” Opposite, there is another address to the reader, which is followed by a table of the chapters and of general matter. A leaf of errata, with the bookseller’s device neatly executed on the reverse, concludes this rare and curious volume. A copy of it is in the British Museum , and one occurs in the Cat. de la Valliere, No. 134^* A. D 1715— 1 730. “ Idee d’une Republique Heureuse : ou 1 Utopie de THOMAS MORUS,Chancelier d’Angleterre. Contenant lePlan d une Republique dont les Loix, les Usages, et les Coutumes tendent uniquement a rendre heureuses les Societez qui les suivront. Traduite en Francois par M. GUEUDE- VILLE, et enrichie de Figures en Taille-douce. Leide, 1715, i2mo. Amsterdam, 1730»” I2m o. These elegant little editions, of which the second seems to differ * from the first only in having a fresh title-page struck off, are now becoming rather rare, and sought after. An engraved frontispiece of a female holding an oval portrait of More in the left hand, and the Roman Fasces in the right, &c. &c. faces the title-page.—The translator’s Epistle to of the great Atlas, and which one Salabert, a Priest, who had begun it, was not able to go through with, because of his being obliged to re¬ turn into France. It was not long after that he also translated Sir Thomas More’s Utopia into French, at the request of the Rhinegrave, who could not otherwise read it in that Language, save in an old Translation, of above an Hundred years standing by Bartholomews Anean, author of Alectse, who made so much noise in the World in his time, and by the Lord of Branville, in a Gaulish stile, which the Rhinegrave could hardly understand.”—Sir H. Ellis. * In the title-page of the first edition, after the word “uniquement, it is said—“a faire aux societes humaines le passage de la vie dans toute la douceur imaginable.” 128 EDITIONS OF Henry Duke of Saxe—his Preface, sufficiently flourishing (in which he takes no notice of the preceding ancient French edition)—More’s Letter to Giles—the Life of More—the Letters of Erasmus to Froben—of Budaeus to Lupset—of Buslidius to More—of Giles to Buslidius—of Palludanus to Giles, with verses, &c. all precede the romance, which occu¬ pies 348 distinct pages ; an excellent “ Table des Matieres” of 16 pages concludes the volume. These editions are rendered very amusing from the sixteen elegant plates (exclusive of the frontispiece) which accom¬ pany them. The thirteenth, descriptive of the introduction of the intended bride and bridegroom, is oftentimes missing. “ Comme les figures (says the translator, at the end of his preface) sont a la mode, et qu’elles font plaisir a un certain genre de Lecteurs, 1 Imprimeur, qui n’epargne rien pourses impressions, et dont le principal but est de se conformer au gout du Public, a eu soin d’en embellir son Utopie. Les Tailles-douces representent les sujets les plus interessans du Livre.” Of the merits of the translation, which Mons. Gueu- deville tells us is not very exact,* the reader must himself be the judge, from the numerous specimens of it inserted in the notes of the present edition. A copy of the first edition occurs in Gaignat’s Catalogue, No. 907. English . A. D. 1551. A fruteful and pleasaunt workeof the beste state of a pub- lyque weale, and of the newe yle called Utopia : written * e. 3Jmprtnteti at iContion abrajmm ®ele, btoellmj tit ^aulss cljurdjepacDe at tlje sptrne of tlje ILambt. anno, 1551. THE UTOPIA. 131 C €i)e f^Cte toofte of tt)e comntunpca elon of l&aptjaell tjptljlodape coucec-- npnge tlje belt date of a common toealtlje. ?e mode bpetorp-- oud anti tcpum= pljante l&pnge of Cnglande l?tnrp tlje Igljt of tljat na-- mc In all ropal bee tued }0c y ° f th ' S Edition no Utopian metres occur -sir H EuL P y ' f °" OWed by them > is P ut at the end. THE UTOPIA. 139 The preceding title page is engraved under a portrait of More, from Marshall—for account of which see p. 101. ante. The title is followed by a Dedication to “ Cresacre More,” which the reader will see prefixed to the first book, post. This edition, “ exactly done with applause,” as Alsop styles it, is, in truth, one of the most careless and erroneous extant. It has everything of Robinson’s translation but its accuracy ; and why it is so coveted by collectors is abso¬ lutely inexplicable. The type, paper, and text are equally wretched. The preceding quarto edition ought not to escape from greater part of this censure. Alsop’s edi¬ tions of the Utopia are “omnium inquinatissimae !” Antony Wood notices only this octavo edition of Alsop. A.D. 1684. « UTOPIA; Written in Latin by Sir Thomas More, Chan¬ cellor of England : Translated into English. London ; Printed for Richard Chiswell, at the Rose and Crown, in St. Paul’s Church Yard. MDCLXXXIV. 8vo. We now come to the celebrated translation of the Utopia by BISHOP Burnet —whose name is not inserted in the title-page, but of whose being the translator, there never yet was entertained a doubt. His preface (of 11 unnumbered pages) immediately succeeds the title—in the middle of which he thus remarks : “ This small volume which I now publish, being writ by one of the greatest men that this island has produced, seemed to me to contain so many fine and well digested notions, that I thought it might be no unkind nor ill entertainment to the nation, to put a book in their hands, to which they have so good a title, and which has a very common fate upon it, to be more known and admired all the world over, than here at home. He concludes thus,—“As the translators of Plutarch s Hetos , or of Tallies Offices, are not concerned either in the maxims, or in the actions that they relate ; so I, who only tell, in the 140 EDITIONS OF best English I can, what Sir Thomas More writ in very ele¬ gant Latin, must leave his thoughts and notions to the reader’s censure, and do think myself liable for nothing but the fidelity of the translation, and the correctness of the English; and for that I can only say, that I have writ as carefully, and as well as I can.” This edition contains only the preliminary letter of More to Giles. The text of the Utopia concludes the volume at p. 206. It is handsomely and accurately printed. Of the spirit and correctness of the translation, the reader will best judge from the parallel passages of it with Rooinson’s, which are quoted in the notes of the present edition. Upon the whole, I give the preference to Robinson’s translation; although in the philosophical parts of the first book Burnet has evidently the advantage. Perhaps Robinson was not a thorough master of the original Latin, or took less plea¬ sure in those parts of the work which relate to philosophical discussions—however this may be, he has made ample amends for occasional negligencies, by the facility and richness of his style and expression, and by that air of frankness and simplicity which gives to fiction the appear¬ ance of truth. In Burnet’s preface more is promised than has been performed-and those editors are rather complai¬ sant than judicious, who say that his work has fixed an ;era in the translations of the Utopia. A. D. 1741 or 8. qu ? This edition of the Utopia is noticed from a copy of it which appears to have been in the late Mr. Brand’s library As I have never seen it, I am unable to state its contents. A.D. 1751. Utopia : Containing an Impartial History of the Man- . tiers, Customs, Polity, Government, &c. of that Island. Written in Latin by Sir Thomas More, Chancellor of ngland. And interspersed with many important ar- THE UTOPIA. 141 tides of Secret History, relating to the State of the British Nation. Translated into English by GILBERT Burnet, late Bishop of Sarum. To this edition is added a short account of Sir Thomas More’S Life and Trial : and a Prayer made by him while he was a Pris¬ oner in the Tower. The whole revised, corrected, and greatly improved, by THOMAS WILLIAMSON, Esq. Ox¬ ford, Printed for J. Newbery, at the Bible and Sun, in St. Paul’s Church Yard, London, MDCCLI. 8vo.” This long title-page sufficiently explains the contents of the edition. It begins with Burnet’s preface : the “Life” is comprised in eight pages : after which follows More s letter to Giles. These pieces comprehend the first twenty-five pages. The “ Trial ” and “ Prayer,” the eight following ones, are separately numbered. The Epistles to Lupset and Busli- dius are injudiciously omitted. This is a neat and rather common edition ; and in some places the text is successfully amended. The Romance comprises 168 pages. A.D. 1758. « [The] HISTORY OF Utopia, translated into English ; De¬ scribing the most perfect state of a Common Wealth, in the Manners, Religion, and Polity of that Island : With Notes, historical and explanatory. By Fred. Warner, LL.D. London : Printed for L. Davis and C. Reymeis, and J. Payne, m.dcc.lviii. 8vo.” Subjoined to the “ Life of More,” of which some account was given at page 48 ante. Dr. Warner was induced to publish this edition from the solicitation of Mr. Justice Burnet, son of the Bishop, and a great friend both of the editor and of Sir Robert Henley, to whom the work is dedi¬ cated. In this Dedication (p. xi.) Dr. Warner thus re¬ marks: “The Political Romance, my Lord, which fil s up the remainder of the following sheets, has stood the test o several ages as a master-piece of wit and fancy: and if 1 142 EDITIONS OF have endeavoured to illustrate it in such a manner, as to make it useful to my country, in times of such degeneracy that scarcely any thing but works of wit and fancy are looked upon, your Lordship will acknowledge that the de¬ sign is laudable, how much soever I may have failed in its execution.” . ,° f ‘ he “lustrations” of Dr. Warner, the reader will judge for himself, from his notes—the whole of which are incorporated in the present edition. They relate rather to political reflections, than to historical facts, and anecdotes of the manners and customs of the times. This edition of the Utopia is, however, the first careful and critical one w ich appeared in our language; and if Dr. Warner had collated passages with the early English and Latin editions ra her than have implicitly adopted the phraseology of Bur- net very little would have been wanting to the representa- benH rt, n PUre t6Xt ° f the Ut ° pia - The “ Life ” compre- s e rstijo the Romance, the latter 230 pages of the book-the epistle of More to Giles is only gten It is nt uncommon book. A. D. 1808. A new Translation of the Utopia, &c. By Arthur Cayley he younger, with the Life of King Richard III. the -Latin roems of our author ” This edition forms the second volume of the “ Memoirs of th llTy rf f ° r Which 566 P- 49 ante. Speaking of the celebrity of the Utopia, Mr. Cayley thus observes • ‘ It speedily gamed him [Sir T. M.] great applause over Europe was.translated into French, Italian, Dutch, and English and hath now stood the test of nearly three centuries as a ma’sLr- somewhat of * hath ’ however > experienced Idmired 1 JT* ^ bdng better known > and more admired abroad, than by the author’s own countrymen • a circumstance, which may, in some measure, sanctions're THE UTOPIA. 143 appearance in an English dress of the day, though its merit is greater than to allow of its deriving any advantage by translation.” Vol. I. 260. That the reader may judge for himself of the comparative merit of the translations of Mr. Cayley, Bishop Burnet, and Ralph Robinson, I have reserved for the note below * a specimen of the former—without presuming to intrude any critical opinion of my own. Upon the whole, the public have reason to thank Mr. Cayley for his efforts in thus en¬ deavouring to make Sir Thomas More’s Works a popular study of the day. A.D. 1808. « UTOPIA; or, the Best State of a Commonwealth. Con¬ taining an Impartial History of the Manners, Customs, Polity, Government, &c. of that Island. By Sir Thomas * While there, among many who visited me, one person was more agreeable to me than any other. It was Tigidius, born at Antwerp, a man of great honour, and of good rank, in his native city, though of less than he deserves, for I know not where to find a more learned and a better bred youth. Worthy and intelligent, he is so civil to all, so kind to his friends, and so full of candour and affection, that you will very rarely meet with so perfect a friend. He is extraordinarily mo¬ dest, without artifice, but full of prudent simplicity. His conversation was so pleasant and innocently cheerful, that his company greatly lessened the desire of returning to my country and family, which an absence of four months had occasioned. “ One day, as I was returning from mass, I chanced to see him talk¬ ing to a stranger, who seemed past the flower of his age. His face was tanned, his beard long, and his cloak hanging carelessly about him; so that, from his appearance, I concluded he was a seaman. When Peter saw me, he came and saluted me; and as I was returning is civility, he took me aside, and pointing to his companion, said, ‘ Do you see that man ? I was just thinking of bringing him to you., ^ ‘He should have been very welcome (I answered) on your account. And on his own too, (he replied,) if you knew the man. For no one alive can give a more copious account of unknown countries, which 1 know vou love.’ ‘ Then (said I) I did not guess amiss, for I took him for a seaman.’ ‘ But you are much mistaken (he said), for he hath been no Palinurus, but another Ulysses, or rather a Plato.’ ” Vol. 11. 12, 13. 144 EDITIONS OF UTOPIA. More, Lord High Chancellor of England. To which is prefixed a Life of the Author. London, printed for Jones and Bumford. Small 8vo. 1808.” This is a neat little edition, printed with a good type on wove paper. The life, which is an abridgment of Mr. Mac- diarmid’s, occupies the first xxxviii pages; this is followed by a prayer of Sir Thomas More, as in the Oxford edition of 1751- Bishop Burnet’s preface and translation of the Utopia occupy the next 212 pages, where the work concludes. * * * t may be proper here to observe, that the text of the present edition of the Utopia is, in fact, printed from Alsop’s e 1 ion of 1639 i as being the most convenient ancient edi¬ tion for the compositor to execute. But Alsop’s text differs so rarely from Robinson’s that both may be though tone and the same.. Where, however, deviations do occur, they have en noticed below. This is mentioned to prevent any doubt or supnse, which otherwise might have been excited, by see¬ ing the edition of 1 ssi, referred to in the notes, quoted as a 1 erent text from that which the reader is perusing. cata"’tm B o Un Cs?itf: e a a s Lat ;, n “T ° CCUrS ’ “ a me " dis ™di- bung der Insul Vtopia, in die deTtscS sprachTfibe^seUt” S^Le^t Uermmf Edition^ S^FraTckf ^ 3 " ^ An earlier edition than pithoe ,, , rancKt * J 753- Dibdin, is preserved in the r -n and ec l uaI1 y unknown to Museum, “ Mori T. Utopia ’’Tvo C * “° W ^ l855 ^ in the British - This edition h n P 8 Gourmontii, s. a. Dibdin appear to haw heard ofT "it * Pa " Zer ’ neither does the ‘ Ad Lectorem • to be a li ,' U ' S T‘ thout date - but appears by Note. 6 a S6C0nd or thlrd edition.”— Mr. Grenville’s ■ng to J. Albinuf, so°d by^uctLn'at^Tdt’ ^ C °’ nS beIon ^" “Thomte Mori Defensio Mo at JP ordt . ,n 11 was Manu propria Mori.” fob]_Sir iT Ellis'™’ Martmum Dorpium i %\>t commontoealtf) of tfje Btopia. K notions of e govL™tm b l I re th ri nk ’ f ° ^ th ?“. aI1 M °™’ s of a common-wealth ■ and if . ° mmen . e ur| der this ingenious fiction wards, he seemed evidenH ' nStances of his conduct after- that he had seenteased il be su PP°sed -edge, and J e ^^P 0 " farther know- ever, I apprehend, will be found to be property, which is the ground work of his nlan 'f d h d, * us,on of his superlative contempt of riches all thro P E m ^ ™ ay )udge fr ° m days will be thought cerhansto u M h ' S Ilfe .—which in these of the things which he afterward ^ h ® r f °"j , or fr enzy—was not one “ The Urom a forwards disapproved.”_WAR NE R. example of Plato, erects' ^Lagw^TeTublic^ ^ the a form entirely new and endows! -o, • ■ ’ arran g es a society in cure its happiness TClytlTch mal2Tr ^ ^ But with an improvement on the , d f have hlthert0 ex Pcnenced. Utopians assumes an actual existence h re P ub,ic ° f the turous navigator in a distant Dart of tt,' 11 ls discovered by an adven- for many ages continued to flourish • a!rMor mi T here ’ Where * had the world what he learnt from th* ' • M r ° n y comm umcates to ness.” Macdiarmid’s Lives of ^BrMsh^Statesmen «fiV ^' If we are to credit the biooranh,, „t -a , ’ 4t ,8 ' 7 ’ P- ! 9- seem that the author of UTopiA^MudtLTth S ITT grandson ’ !t w °uld then to lye alwaies hidden in his olne^ a® b °°, ke "° better worth >e, to Vulcan .’’-Life and Death „ /&> ^~ d TO THE HONOURABLE DESCENDED GENTLEMAN CRESACRE MORE, OF MORE PLACE, IN NORTH MIMS, IN THE COUNTY OF HERTFORD, ESQ. Next in Blood to Sir THOMAS MORE, Lord Chancellor of England , and Heir to the ancient Family of the CRES- ACRES, some time Lord of the Manor of Bamborough , in the County of York, in the Time of Edward the First. HAVE found you so noble in the first Dedication, that I should much derogate from your true worth, and wrong myself to make choice of a new patron for the second (exactly done with applause), wherein I presume it will be no sin to multiply my obligation. Your name and nature claims and deserves it; it is your due and my duty , and were I able to express more, MORE should have it; for I must always acknowledge your goodness in whatsoever quality fortune shall bestow me. Sir, I know you are wise. In a word I am, really what I am ; Your worship’s ever to be commanded, BER. ALSOP. K 2 Thomas More to Peter Giles. Sendeth greeting .* AM almost ashamed’, right well beloved Peter Giles, to send unto you this book of the Utopian Commonwealth, well nigh after a year*s space, which I am sure you looked for within a month and a half. And no marvel: for you knew well enough that I was already disburdened of all the labour and study belonging to the invention of this work, and that I had no need at all to trouble my brains about the disposition, or con¬ veyance of the matter: and therefore had herein nothing else to do but only to rehearse those things, which you and I, together, heard Master Raphael tell and declare. Wherefore there was no cause why Ishould study to set forth the matter with eloquence ; forasmuch as his talk could not be fine and elegant, being first not studied for, but sudden and unpremeditate: and then, as you know, of a man better seen in the Greek language than in the Latin tongue. And my writing, the nigher it should approach to his homely, plain, and simple speech, so much the nigher should it go to the truth, which is the only mark whereuntQ I do and ought to direct all my travail and study herein. * The translation of the Epistle is much more paraphrastic than of the Romance; the original, of which a specimen is given at page X $ } (note), would not have occupied half the space. THOMAS MORE iso I grant and confess, Friend Peter, myself discharged of so muck labour, having all these things ready done to my hand, that almost there was nothing left for me to do. Else either the invention or the disposition of this matter, might have re¬ quired of a wit, neither base nor at all unlearned, both some time and study. But if it were requisite and necessary that the matter should also have been written eloquently, and not alone truly, of a surety that thing could I have performed by no time nor study ! But now, seeing all these cares, stays, and lets were taken away, wherein else so much labour and ’study should have been employed, and that there remained no other thing for me to do, but only to write plainly the matter as I heard it spoken, that, indeed, was a thing light and easy to be done. Howbeit, to the dispatching of this so little business, my other cares and troubles did leave almost less than no leisure. While do daily bestow my time about law matters; some to plead some to hear, some as an arbitrator with mine award to deter¬ mine; some as an umpire or a judge, with my sentence finally to discuss; while I go one way to see and visit my,friend; an other way about mine own private affairs; while I spend al¬ most all the day abroad amongst other, and the residue at home among my own ; I leave to myself, I mean to my book, no time , when lam come home, I must commune with my wife c at wit 2 my children, and talk with my servants. All the w nc 1 1 ungs I reckon and account among business ; forasmuch as they must of necessity be done : and done must they needs be unless a man will be a stranger in his own house. And in any¬ wise a man must so fashion and order his conditions, and so appoint and dispose himself, that he be merry, jocund, and pleasant among them, whom either nature has provided, or c hance hath made, or he himself hath chosen to be the fellows and companions of his life: so that with too much gentle be¬ haviour and familiarity he do not mar them, and by too much TO PETER GILES. i5i sufferance of his servants, make them his masters. Among these things now rehearsed, stealeth away the day, the month, the year ! When do I write then ? and all this while have I spoken no word of sleep, neither yet of meat, which among a great num¬ ber doth waste no less time than doth sleep—wherein almost half the life time of man creepeth away. I therefore do win and get only that time, which I steal from sleep and meat. Which time, because it is very little, and yet somewhat it is, therefore have I once at the last, though it be long first, finished Utopia, and have sent it to you, Friend Peter, to read and peruse: to the intent that if any thing have escaped me,. you might put me in remembrance of it. For though in this be¬ half I do not greatly mistrust myself (which would God, I were somewhat in wit and learning, as 1 am not all of the worst and dullest memory !), yet have I not so great trust and confidence in it, that I think nothing could fall out of my mind For John Clement, my boy, who, as you know, was there present with us, whom I suffered to be away from no talk, wherein may be any profit or goodness (for out of this young* bladed and new shot up corn, which hath already be¬ gun to spring up both in Latin and Greek learning, I look for plentiful increase at length of goodly ripe grain) ; he, I say, hath brought me into a great doubt.f For whereas Hythlo- * This “ Tohn Clement ” seems to have been a servant of some lite¬ rary curiosity. More took him -with him abroad in his negotiations at cJmbray ; and it -was probably during his stay there that he found an opportunity of conveying to Henry Stephens (the famous French prmtj) one of the MSS. from -which the Odes of Anacreon after-wards published d .554. None of More’s Mothers relate thts dent : but it is mentioned by Stephens htmself,and an “f™™* f be seen in De La Monnoie’s letter inserted tn Bayle s Out. But. etCnt tom. I, Art. “Anacreon,” note L. Clement was afterwards More’s family, and became a Greek professor at Oxjord. If is taking notice of a difference in this little madent, as -well as oj the 0 .mission Lhe following page, was evidently to cover theficUon, 152 THOMAS MORE day (unless my memory fail me) said that the bridge of Amaurote, which goeth over the river of Anydar, is five hun dred paces, that is to say, half a mile in length; my John saith that two hundred of those paces must be plucked away for that the river is there not above three hundred paces in breadth. I pray you heartily call the matter to your remem brance : for if you agree with him, I will also say as you say and confess myself deceived. But if you cannot remember the thing, then surely I will write as I have done, and as mine own remembrance serveth me. For, as I will take good heed that there be mmy book nothing false, so if there be any thing doubt¬ ful / will rather teU a lye, than make a lye: because I had 7 cither be good than wise. H°™beit this matter may easily be remedied, if you will take JTvVt questi T of RaphaeI himself ’ by word °f ’ f be now Wlth y° u < or else by letter. Which vou ^ needs do for another doubt also that hath chanced ,• * tr ° Ug 7° se fault 1 cannot ^1, whether through mine or yours, or Raphael’s. For neither we remembered to enqude of him, nor he to tell us, in to hat.fart of the new world Utopia W “ Tk e ™hich thing, I had rather have spent no small ZVL"ZT/'“ m "7 “ M ' h “ 4 «» 1 istnd stand t, am t 7 *° be ign ° rant in Wkat ** Oat cause 21 ’ W 2 e0f WriU S ° l0Hg a treatise > as be¬ cause there be with us certain men, especially one virtuous and godly man, and a professor of divinity, + «I * island b ‘asceri 72 d,t 2727 cZlri 7222 e 7 * 7 °* ° f **“ ocuuttnng that it 'was imaginary ” * Happened : occured. Warner. 2oZ h c ::222r::z27j a t: 7? m » — the believed the whole narrative of Utopia to ^g aphersthat Bud^sus missionaries thither ; but this beliefs ° nd «? <« ««*&. The ,W “u ZZTfir* jf‘V“ torheZ not stuffed f n / i d common w are, whatsoever is ffed fidl of old moth-eaten words and terms that be worn out of use. ’ mat be Some there be that have pleasure only in old rusty antiqui- tics, and some only m their own doings One is 1 crabbed, and so unpleasant that he S ’ S ° Ur> S ° short Anwi, ■ ’ * mn awa y with n ° ™irth or L jests nor Znts * T™ ZZ Some silly poor souls be so afraid, that ** * the fiction could remain long undiscovered 6 n ° gTeat P rohahilit y that more solicitous to succeed in thTl Z’ may SUppOSe he ™ as ^ firee things about religion and pv? ^ mtent , wn 2 having said so many to the principies of the times heZZZZ’ZZZTf"’ ^spflfi "T*”* *> some broad-shouldered Englishmen are in ’th f En gland —-where just risen from her seat, is measuring the widthll^Tf’- W “ giH ' leering at the same time to Her feJale **“**’*• The word translator is here marked in F , sage is not to be found in the original M,',""'’!' 1 m0t - t ^ at tJle l as ~ terse and forcible, and the abole characteri LeZb^T " extremel y a$fernaM “ r «* iriviale, quicquid obsoletiZerbTloliaZ TO PETER GILES. 155 at every snappish word their nose shall be bitten off, that they stand in no less dread of every quick and sharp word, than he that is bitten of a mad dog, feareth water. Some be so mu¬ table and wavering, that every hour they be in a new mind, saying one thing sitting, and another thing standing. Another sort sitteth upon their ale* benches, and there among their cups they give judgment of the wits of writers; and with great authority they condemn, even as pleaseth them, every writer according to his writing, in most spightful manner ; mocking, touting, and flouting them : being themselves in the mean sea¬ son safe, and, as saith the proverb, out of all “ danger of gun shot." For why they be so smugge and smoethe that they have quibusdam solum placent vetera, plerisque tantum sua : ******^ tricus est, ut non admittat jocos : hic tam insulsus, ut non ferat sales tam simi quidam sunt, ut nasum omnem, velut aquam ah rabido morsus cane, reformident: adeo mobiles alii stantes: hi sedent in tabernis, et inter pocula &c. The reader wt hence obtain a specimen of the closeness of the original, contrasted -wit h ^the translation of « Master Raphe Robinson.’ He will observe how the repressions “ tetricus, insulsus, and simi," have been spun out, not to 0/7v changed in some respects , by the translator. The :alehouse seems to have been, in all countries of modem Europe, the great rendezvous for debate as well as drinking and feasting, among the hwer classes of people ; and the benches placed on the outside oj them, are still filled with vehement debaters as well as boisterous merry makers. Teniers’s pictures are excellent illustrations of this subject, home inge nious information may be obtained concerning wakes and merry makings Replaces, in the edition of Ska ksfeare published in - 03, ^- t 221 Wanton’s long note (Hist. Eng. Poetry, vol. m. p. 128), which is there referred to, I have perused, and it is full of entertainment The host or landlord was generally considered a man of superior attain- ments and was usually made umpire in disputes. Cornwallis, m his 22nd ’essay, “ of alehouses,” thus begins : « 1 write this m an alehouse • 2 which lam driven by night, which would not give me leave to find out an honester harbour. I am without any ^nyhutmkand taker and these I use instead of talking to myself: my host hath a ready given me his knowledge, but I am little bettere . ; FsJvs S ofSir William Cornwallis, the younger, Knight , ed. 1632. T ^character of a host is well described in Sir Thomas Overbuys Charac- ters. For -which sec note on “ tipling-houses, p. i» 4 - 1 56 T. MORE TO PETER GILES. There be moreover some, so unkind and ungentel that though they take great pleasure and delectation l the’work aJT* J' tkey Mn n0t fi nd ™ ^eir hearts to love the Author thereof, nor to afford him a good word; being much like uncourteous, unthankful, and churlish guests which J they have with good and dainty meat well filled their 'belHes depart home, giving no thanks to the feast maker. Go. our ways now, and make a costly feast at your own char/e fn guests so dainty mouthed, so divers in taste, and besides that of so unkind and unthankful natures. But nevertheless (Friend Pefpi^ ^ r * Ioday, „ I willed you befor ^nd T +* *"}-.”** Hith ' shall be at my liberty afterwards to’t /^ " r ’ 7 ^iZnat't Sed f S t 1 kaVetakmgreat * ains “MolZTrMng counsel and advice of my friends, anZesftZlylZ ^ zz;iz h i keartify better thL ever IZ. ^ ^ ^ fMVe eVer done ’M Have you prologue HE most victorious King of England, Henry the Eighth of that name, in all royal virtues a Prince most peerless, had of late, in controversy with Charles, the right high and mighty King i= ____ of Castile, weighty matters, and of great im¬ portance. For the debatement and final determination whereof, the King’s Majesty sent me Ambassador into Flanders ,joined in commission with CuthbertTunstall,+ * About the year .720, there appeared a work called » Memoirs of . certain Island adjacent to the kingdom of Utopia ? written byacde- ,rated author of that country, new translated into English. Lo • Ivo 1726. 2nd edit.; but this seems to have been published as a ve¬ nde only for romantic incidents, and licentious sentiments. It begins n the following common-place style 1 “A nobleyouth, who had ranged >>er almost all the habitable part of the globe in search of pleasure ind improvement, at last arrived at an island famous for arts and sciences, and talked of, by the neighbouring nations, as a place where ill useful accomplishments might, in the most elegant manner be at¬ oned He had no sooner landed, than he was charmed with even the first and rudest prospects ; but when he had entered farther, and could distinctly view the lovely landscape, he become quite lost, and ravished in contemplation. Where-e’er he cast his wondering eyes, all had the face of joy 1 of everlasting peace 1—and soft repose . no tumults, no noise, no stormy tongues of faction, nor elemen a ^- ricanes seemed ever to have disturbed the quiet of this happy shore . &C + & Mo RE here alludes to his having gone abroad with his esteemed friend Tunstall, to assist at the negociations for peace at Cambray. 158 PROLOGUE TO a man doubtless out of comparison, and whom the Kino's Majesty of late, to the great rejoicing of all men, did prefer to the office of Master of the Rolls. But of this man’s praises I will say nothing; not because that It" 1 Cred6nCe Sha ° b6given to the testimony that cometh out of a friend’s mouth ; but because his virtue H h ° ddeSd ?’ “ Sir Thomas unto him ” See P ^ E " gIand Was b ° Unde " The following brief particulars concerning- Tunstait k cep table to the reader. Godwin savs that ?k STALL ma T be ac - founder of his family having been \ W toWiliam 1 Tutth'^ entirely discredited hv ViJm t , nuam l. . but this is to England from Cambray, Tunstfn found^hf ^h 1 " 6 ^’ retUrn first impression of Tindsl’l «. , . * , there the grater part of the he bought up and on h , ‘ ^ > a -‘ 0 n n.° f the BiWe ’ the whole of which publicly burnt in Cheapside^'Thav " g a ” d " caused the same to be copies now in existence of this edition ^n k» h^ ^ ° n,y ^ w from the see of London tnti, f r h e was translated ler, that “ thebishopricV 7 Du^am^ ^ ^ the good CuTHBERT TUNSTALL a lonr A G ° d and rather devout to follow his own than r ° f SW6et dis P ositior h of others.- n than Cruel t0 Persecute the conscience condi tiott which X'ZS w tha ‘ — of reigns of Edward VI. Mary and Fr^ k™° St ® ure tG under g° in the whole, to have been moderate’and bene^W. ^ 13 allowed > upon the in the Tower, nothing seems to ha ,r° - 6 ” L tbou g b twice imprisoned iug and science which always1 L v"" ed that ardour for learn - wrote several grammatical a a "• u d b ! S conduc t and writings. He by Granger, (vol. i. g 4 . edit"^) treati * es > and we are told tandi, was the first treatise on Vk 3 WOrk “ De Arte S “PP«- Erasmus calls him “a man of arithmetic published in England.” all human and divine learningblameless life, excellently skilled in More always mentions him with r ' gnora " t °f n0 branch of science.” for his abilities and virtues, sle S ’^ the highest reverence epitaph, engraved on his tomb in if* 6d ’ 4 ’ His Latin with great pomp), was written by Watar Had"? bUried gant Latinity. Consult Godwin /V p ^f ddon > but not in very ele- Martyrs, voh ii. p . edit ,6 4I " p. 755 . Lx’s THE UTOPIA. 159 and learning be greater, and of more excellency, than that I am able to praise them : and also in all places so famous and so perfectly well known, that they need not, nor ought not of me to be praised, unless I would seem to shew and set forth “ the brightness of the sun with a candle ,” * as the pro¬ verb saith. There met us at Bruges (for thus it was before agreed) they whom their Prince had for that matter appointed com¬ missioners : excellent men all. The chief and head of them was the Margrave *f (as they call him) of Bruges , a right honourable man : but the wisest and the best spoken of them was GEORGE Temsise,J provost of Casselses , a man, not only by learning, but also by nature, of singular eloquence, and in the laws profoundly learned, but in reasoning and deba¬ ting of matters, what by his natural wit, and what by daily exercise, surely he had few fellows ! After that we had once or twice met, and upon certain points or articles could not fully and thoroughly agree, they, for a certain space, took their leave of us and departed to Brussels , there to know * " Nisi videri velim solem lucerna Burnet and Warner have translated i lucerna ’ a lantern : but the above, which is also in the translation of 1551, seems better to convey the spirit of the original. More himself made use of the same English expression, in his speech on being made Chancellor, when he compared himself with his prede¬ cessor Wolsey—“ to whom I may seem but as the lighting of a candle , when the sun is down.”— Hoddesdon’s Life. p. 5 1 * f “ Praefectus Brugensis.” The word “ Margrave ” [from the Ger¬ man,—signifying, a keeper of marches or borders] was adopted in our language, I believe, towards the middle of the 16th century ; probably for the first time, in the present work. X “ Georgius Temsicius.” Burnet and Warner have translated this uncouth Latin name “Temse;” but there is more force in the old translation. This gentleman who, for good reasons, does not occur in Foppens’s Bibi. Belgica, appears to have been the head of Cassel, the capital of the landgraviate of Hesse Cassel, in the circle of the Upper Rhine : there are, however, two other towns in the Low Countries called by the same name. The first English translation styles him “ Temsice.” i6o PROLOGUE TO their prince’s pleasure. I, in the mean time (for so my busi¬ ness lay), went straight thence to Antwerp. While I was there abiding, oftentimes among other, but which to me was more welcome than any other, did visit me one Peter Giles,* a citizen of Antwerp; a man there in his country of honest reputation, and also preferred to high promotions, worthy truly of the highest. For it is hard to say, whether the young man be in learning or in honesty more excellent. For he is both of wonderful virtuous con¬ ditions, and also singularly well learned, and towards all sorts of people exceeding gentle: but towards his friends so kind hearted, so loving, so faithful, so trusty, and of so eainest affection, that it were very hard in any place to find a man, that with him in all points of friendship may be com¬ pared. No man can be more lowly or courteous; no man useth less simulation, or dissimulation ; in no man is more prudent simplicity. Besides this, he is in his talk and com¬ munication so merry and pleasant, yea, and that without harm, that through his gentle entertainment, and his sweet and delectable communication, in me was greatly abated and diminished the fervent desire that I had to see my na¬ tive country, my wife and my children, whom then I did much long and covet to see; because that, at that time, I had been more than four months from them. Upon a certain day when I had heard the divine service m our Lady’s Church, which is the fairest, the most gorgeous, and curious church of building in all the city, and also most requented of people, and the service being done, was ready to go home to my lodging, I chanced to espy this foresaid . ETER talkmg Wlth a certain stranger, a man well stricken in age, with a black sun-burned face, a long beard, and a c oak cast homely about his shoulders, whom, by his favour Petrus /Egidius, Antverpiae natus.” THE UTOPIA. i6r and apparel,»forthwith I judged to be a mariner. But the said Peter seeing me, came unto me and saluted me. And as I was about to answer him : “ See you this man,” saith he (and therewith he pointed to the man that I saw him talking with before), “ I was minded (quoth he) to bring him straight home to you.” “ He should have been very welcome to me (said I) for your sake.” “ Nay (quoth he) for his own sake, if you knew him : for there is no man this day living, that can tell you of so many strange and unknown people and countries as this man can. And I know well that you be very desirous to hear of such news.” “Then I conjectured not far amiss (quoth I),for even at the first sight, I judged him to be a mariner.” “ Nay (quoth he), there ye were greatly deceived: he hath sailed indeed, not as the mariner Pali¬ nure, but as the expert and prudent Prince ULYSSES : yea, rather as the ancient and sage philosopher Plato. For this same Raphael Hythloday,* this being his name, is very well learned in the Latin tongue; but profound and excel¬ lent in the Greek language. Wherein he ever bestowed more study than in the Latin, because he had given himself wholly to the study of philosophy. Whereof he knew that there is nothing certam in Latin that is to any purpose, saving a few of Seneca's and Cicero's doings. His patrimony that he was born unto, he left to his brethren (for he is a Portugal born), and for the desire he had to see and know the far countries of the world, he joined himself in company with Americke VESPUCE • and in the three last voyages of those four that be now in print, and abroad in every man’s hands, he con- * “Sic enim vocatur gentilitio nomine HYTHLODiEus.” —The names of More’s characters, and especially of the present one, seem to be ra¬ ther whimsically chosen ; they remind us a little of Rousseau’s uncouth appellation of an English Nobleman—“ Mi lord Bumsted ! ” It has been fancied that, under these names. More meant to convey some personal allusions—which cannot now be explained. This, how¬ ever, is the mere fancy of an annotator. L PROLOGUE TO 162 tinued still in his company, saving that in the last voyage he came not home again with him. For he made such means and shift, what by intreatance, and what by importune suit, that he got license of Master Americke (though it were sore against his will) to be one of the twenty-four, which in the end of the last voyage were left in the country of Gu- licke. He was therefore left behind for his mind sake, as one that took more thought and care for travelling than dying; having customably in his mouth these sayings : He that hath no grave is covered with the sky ; and, The way to heaven ,, out of all places, is of like length and distance, * Which fantasy of his (if God had not been his better friend), he had surely bought full dear. But after the departure of Master VESPUCE, when he had travelled through and about many countries with five of his companions, Gulikians—at the last, by marvellous chance he arrived in Taprobane^ f" from whence he went to Caliquit,\ where he chanced to find cer¬ tain of his country ships, wherein he returned again into his country, nothing less than looked for.” All this when Peter had told me, I thanked him for his gentle kindness that he had vouchsafed to bring me to the speech of that man, whose communication he thought should be to me pleasant and acceptable. And therewith I turned me to Raphael : * “ Coel0 te £ itur ’ qui non habet urnam, &c‘“ The way to heaven 1S t e same from all places, and he that has no grave has The heavens still over him.”—So Burnet; but not so happy as the above; which is also the first translation of 1551. The French translation is elegant and close : “ qui n’est point enterre, a le ciel pour chapeau ; et, qu’il n y a point d endroit d’ou on ne puisse aller a Dieu.” t This word is used by the ancient geographers Strabo, Pliny, and Ptolemy, as descriptive of that immense island in the Indian ocean which our moderns call Ceylon : see Baudrqndi Geographia, tom. ii. u A S lri ^ S circumstance connected with the. discovery of it is no¬ ticed by Dr. Vincent in his Commerce of the Ancients, vol. i. 48. n. 117. edit. 1807. ^ ‘ 4 Calicut : a town on the Malabar coast. \ hi. THE UTOPIA. 163 and when we had hailed each other, and had spoken those common words that fee customably spoke at the first meet¬ ing and acquaintance of strangers, we went thence to my house, and there in my garden,* upon a bench covered with green turfs, we sat down talking together. * “ Ibique in horto considentes, in scamno cespitibus herbeis con¬ strato, confabulamur : ” “ and entering into the garden, sat down on a green bank, and entertained one another in discourse : ” so Burnet and Warner—but it is not so faithful a translation as the old, nor does it express the action so picturesquely. The vignette on the next page, taken from the Editio princeps , is a very correct, as well as curious representation of it. The opening of the narrative is extremely pleasing, and well con¬ ceived. More makes his hero “Master Hythloday ” unfold the laws, manners, and customs, &c. of the fabulous Utopians, with an air of as much importance as that which Ulysses assumed with Calypso, or /Eneas with Dido. If I might mention small things after great, I would just observe that the episodes or tales in the novel of " Gil Bias De Santillane ” are introduced with more skill and natural effect, than in any other similar production that I know of. . ^Jntrotmctorp 2Dtecourse. ERE he told us how that, after the departing of VESPUCE, he and his fellows that tarried behind in Gulicke,* began by little and little» * through fair and gentle speech, to win the love and favour of the people of that country ; in¬ somuch, that within short space they did dwell among them, not only harmless, but also occupying with them familiarly. He told us also, that they were in high reputation and fa¬ vour with a certain great man (whose name and country are now quite out of my remembrance), which of his mere liber¬ ality, did bear the costs and charges of him and his five companions : and besides that, gave them a trusty guide to conduct them in their journey (which by water was in boats, and by land in wagons), and to bring them to other princes with very friendly commendations. Thus after many days journeys, he said they found towns and cities, and weal-publiques full of people, governed by good and wholesome laws : for under the line equinoctial,-)* and on both sides of the same, as far as the sun doth extend * “In Castello,” — “New Castile:” as all the other translations properly have it. t “VEquator,” in Burnet.—“ Sub /Equatoris linea,” in the original Latin. 1 66 UTOPIA. its course, lieth (quoth he) great and wide desarts ; * and wildernesses parched, burned, and dried up with continual and intolerable heat. All things be hideous, terrible, loath¬ some, and unpleasant to behold : all things out of fashion and comeliness; inhabited with wild beasts and serpents ; or, at the least-wise, with people that be no less savage, wild, and noisome than the very beasts themselves be. But a little farther beyond that, all things begin by little and little to wax pleasant; the air soft, temperate, and gentle : the ground covered with green grass : less wildness in the beasts. At the last shall ye come to people, cities, and towns, wherein is continual intercourse and occupying of merchandize and chaffare,f not only among themselves and with their bor¬ derers, but also with merchants of far countries, both by land and water. There I had occasion (said he) to go to many countries on every side ; for there was no ship ready to any voyage or journey, but I and my fellows were into it very gladly received. The ships that they found first, were made plain, flat, and broad in the bottom trough-wise. The sails were made of great rushes, or of wickers, and in some places of * (( Vast desarts that were parched with the perpetual heat of the sun : the soil was withered ; all things looked dismally, and all places were either quite uninhabited, or abounded with wild beasts and ser- pents, and some few men, that were neither less wild nor less cruel than the beasts themselves. But as they went farther, a new scene opened; all things grew milder, the air less burning, the soil more verdant, and even the beasts were less wild.” So Burnet and Warner- but not equal to the above, which is also in the first English transla¬ tion. The Latin passage is as follows : “ vastas objacere solitudines perpetuo fervore torridas. Squalor undique et tristis rerum facies, orrida atque inculta omnia, feris habitata serpentibusque, aut denique hominibus nequi* minus efferis quam sint beluae, neque minus noxiis. Ceterum ubi longius evectus sis, paulatim omnia mansuescere, coelum minus asperum, solum virore blandum, mitiora animantium ingenia,” t Wares. 1 he above word is used by Chaucer and Spenser. INTRODUCTION. 1 67 leather. Afterwards they found ships with ridged keels, and sails of canvass : yea, and shortly after, having all things like ours. The shipmen also were expert and cunning, both in the sea and in the weather. But he said, that he found great favour and friendship among them, for teaching them the feat and use of the load-stone ,* which to them before that time was unknown. And therefore they were wont to be very timorous and fearful upon the sea, nor to venture upon it, but only in the summer time. But now they have such a confidence in that stone, that they fear not stormy winter : in so doing farther from care than danger.^ In so much, that it is greatly to be doubted, least that thing, through their own foolish hardiness, shall turn them to evil and harm, which at the first was supposed should be to them good and com¬ modious. But what he told us that he saw in every country where he came, it were very long to declare : neither is it my purpose at this time to make rehearsal thereof. But perad- venture in another place will I speak of it: chiefly such things as shall be profitable to be known ; as in special be those de¬ crees and ordinances that he marked to be well and wittily provided and enacted among such people as do together live in a civil policy and good order. For of such things did we busily enquire and demand of him, and he likewise very willingly told us of the same. But as for monsters, because they be no news, of them we were nothing inquisitive : for nothing is more easy to be found, than be barking Scyllas, ravening Celenes , and Lestrigones , devourers of people, and such like great and incredible monsters.*)* But to find citizens * “ Tradito magnetis usu : ” the use of the compass is here alluded to. f This is a just satire upon those travels, which afe minute in the description of such trifles as bring no acquisition of knowledge, or im¬ provement to mankind : and which are silent in the great affairs of government, of human life, and the history of the heart of man. Warner. UTOPIA. 1 68 ruled by good and wholesome laws, that is an exceeding rare and hard thing! But as he mai ked many fond and foolish laws in those new-found lands, so he rehearsed divers acts and constitu¬ tions, whereby these our cities, nations, countries, and king¬ doms may take example to amend their faults, enormities, and errors. Whereof in another place (as I said) I will in¬ treat. Now at this time I am determined to rehearse only what he told us of the manners, customs, laws, and ordi¬ nances of the Utopians. But first I will repeat our former communication, by the occasion and (as I might say) the drift whereof, he was brought into the mention of the weal- public : for when Raphael had very prudently touched divers things that be amiss, some here and some there ; yea, very many on both parts; and again had spoken of such wise laws and prudent decrees as be established and used both here among us and also among them ; as a man so perfect and expert in the laws and customs of every several country, as though into what place soever he came guest- wise, there he had led all his life: then PETER much mar¬ velling at the man ; “ Surely Master Raphael (quoth he), I wonder greatly why you get not into some King’s court : for I am sure there is no Prince living that would not be very glad of you, as a man not only able highly to delight him with your profound learning, and this your knowledge of countries and peoples, but also meet to instruct him with examples, and help him with counsel; and thus doing, you shall bring yourself in a very good case, and also be of ability to help all your friends and kinsfolk.” “As concerning my friends and kinsfolk (quoth he), I pass not greatly for them : for I think I have sufficiently done my part towards them already. For these things-that other men do not depart from until they be old and sick ; yea, which they be then very loath, to leave, when they can no longer keep—those i INTRODUCTION. 169 very same things did I, being not only lusty, and in good health, but also in the flower of my youth, divide among my friends and kinsfolk. * Which I think with this my liberality ought to hold them contented, and not to require nor to look that besides this, I should for their sakes give myself in bond¬ age unto kings.” “ Nay,-)* God forbid that (quoth Peter), it is not my mind that you should be in bondage to kings, but as a retainer to them at your pleasure. Which surely I think is the nighest way that you can devise how to bestow your time fruitfully, not only for the private commodity of your friends, and for the general profit of all sorts of people, but also for the advancement of yourself to a much wealthier state and condition than you be now in.” “ To a wealthier condition (quoth Raphael), by these means which my mind standeth clean against! Now, I live at liberty after mine own mind and pleasure, which I think very few of these great states and peers of realms can say. Yea, and there be enough of them that sue for great men’s friend- * How many people of great wealth, and without a family, this distri¬ bution of his riches is a reproach to, who, without a capacity of enjoying a tenth part of what they have, withold it from public and private chari¬ ties, and from those very relations and friends to whom they intend to leave it at their death, when they can no longer keep it; how many people it reproaches, who have great understandings, and know the injury which this avarice does to society; how many others it condemns, who have to all appearance a great sense of religion, and yet who know that there can be no real religion with such a temper of mind—the rea¬ der will be able to determine without any pointing out.— Warner. f “ Bona verba, inquit Petrus, mihi visum est non ut servias regibus, sed ut inservias .” says the original, which Burnet translates, “soft and fair, said Peter, I do not mean that you should be a slave to any king, but only that you should assist them and be useful to them.” This is less close and spirited than the old translation—though the beginning “soft and fair” is rather preferable for the “bona verba” of the ori¬ ginal. Dryden has made a literal translation of these two words, in his Virgil. Bucolic iii. v. 7. “ Parcius ista viris, &c.” “ Good words, young C-.” I/O UTOPIA. ships : and therefore think it no great hurt if they have not me, nor third or fourth such other as I am.” “ Well, I perceive plainly friend RAPHAEL (quoth I), that you be desirous neither of riches nor of power: and truly I have in no less reverence and estimation a man of your mind, than any of them all that be so high in power and authority : but you shall do as it becometh you ; yea, and according to this wisdom, to this high and free courage of yours, if you can find in your heart so to appoint and dispose yourself, that you may apply your wit and diligence to the profit of the weal-public, though it be somewhat to your own pain and hindrance. And this shall you never so well do, nor with so great profit perform, as if you be of some great prince’s council and put into his head (as I doubt not but you will) honest opinions, and virtuous per¬ suasions. For from the prince,* as from a perpetual well- spring, cometh among the people the flood of all that is good or evil. But in you is so perfect learning, that without any experience, and again so great experience, that without any learning, you may well be any king’s counsellor.” “You be twice deceived Master More (quoth he), first in me, and again in the thing itself: for neither is in me the ability that you force upon me, and if it were never so much, yet in disquieting mine own quietness I should nothing further the weal-public. For first of all, the most part of all Princes have more delight in warlike matters and feats of chivalry (the knowledge whereof I neither have nor desire), than in the good feats of peace: and employ much more study, how by right or by wrong to * 1 he above is a purer and stronger translation than Burnet’s— “for the springs both of good and evil flow from the prince over a whole nation, as from a lasting fountain ” More says, “ Nempe a principe bonorum malorumque omnium torrens in totum populum, velut a perenni quodam fonte, promanat.” INTRODUCTION. 17 1 enlarge their dominions, than how well and peaceable to rule and govern that they have already. Moreover, they that be counsellors to kings, every one of them either is of -himself so wise indeed that he needeth not, or else he thinketh himself so wise that he will not allow, another man’s counsel, saving that they do shamefully and flatter¬ ingly give assent to the fond and foolish sayings of certain great men : whose favours, because they be in high au¬ thority with their Prince, by assentation and flattery they labour to obtain. And verily it is naturally given to all men to esteem their own inventions best: so both the raven and the ape think their own young ones fairest. Then if a man in such a company, where some disdain and have despite at other men’s inventions, and some count their own best ; if among such men (I say) a man should bring forth any thing, that he hath read done in times past, 01 that he hath seen done in other places;* there the hearers fare as though the whole existimation of their wisdom were in jeopardy to be overthrown, and that ever after they should be counted for very ideots, unless they could in other men’s inventions pick out matter to reprehend and find fault at. If all other poor helps fail, then this is their extreme refuge. These things, say they, pleased our fore¬ fathers and ancestors: would God we could be so wise as they were : and, as though they had wittily concluded the matter, and with this answer stopped every man’s mouth, they sit down again ; as who should say, it were a very * This passage is rather obscure ; Alsop, the editor, seems to have implicitly followed Robinson, the first translator. Burnet says, some¬ what more intelligibly ; “ the rest would think that the reputation of their wisdom would sink, and that their interests would be much de¬ pressed if they could not run it down,”—which is sufficiently feeble. More means that “ the pride of some people’s intellects is frequently wounded when they are unable to make an observation, or reply to a narrative of a perfectly novel nature. 172 UTOPIA. dangerous matter if a man in any point should be found wiser than his forefathers were ! And yet be we content to suffer the best and wittiest of their decrees to lie unexe¬ cuted : but if in any thing a better order might have been taken than by them was, there we take fast hold, finding there many faults. Many times have I chanced upon such proud, lewd, over-thwart, and wayward judgments ; yea, and once in England .”—“ I pray you, Sir, quoth I, have you been in our country ? ” “Yea, forsooth, (quoth he) and there I tarried for the space of four or five months together; not long after the insurrection the western Englishmen made against their king,* which by their own miserable and pitiful slaughter was suppressed and ended. In the mean season, I was much bound and beholding to the right reverend father JOHN MORTON,' f Archbishop and Cardinal of Canterbury , and at that time also Lord Chan- * The insurrection of the Cornish Men , in the year 1495, is, I sup¬ pose, here alluded to. t The manner in which this amiable character is introduced, is singularly happy : and the above (which is also the first) translation of More’s description of him, is in every respect superior to Burnet’s. I subjoin the Latin, that the reader may judge for himself: “ Etenim statura ei mediocris erat, nec aetati quanquam serae cedens; vultus quem revereare, non horreas : in congressu non difficilis, serius tamen et gravis. Libido erat, asperius interdum compellando supplicantes experiri, sed sine noxa, quid ingenii, quam animi praesentiam quisque prae se ferret, qua velut cognata sibi virtute, modo abesset impudentia, delectabatur, et ut idoneam ad res gerendas amplectebatur. Sermo politus et efficax, juris magna peritia, ingenium incomparabile, memo¬ ria ad prodigium usque excellens. Haec enim natura egregia discendo atque exercendo provexit.” Of this excellent metropolitan and chancellor, very little is now known. In More’s life by his grandson, 4to. edit. p. 18, 19, he is only mentioned as connected with Sir Thomas; but his ready and early patronage of More, and most propably of other ingenious young men of the age, is plainly to be inferred from the same authority. How the Cardinal was delighted with the author of the Utopia in particular, may be seen by the anecdote recorded in the next note. Morton took upon himself the expenses of More’s college education, and afterwards placed him INTRODUCTION. •73 7 cillor of England; a man, Master PETER, (for Master MORE knoweth already what I will say), not more honour¬ able for his authority, than for his prudence and virtue. He was of a mean stature, and though stricken in age, yet bare he his body upright. In his face did shine such an amiable reverence, as was pleasant to behold. Gentle in communication, yet eainest and sage. He had great delight many times with rough speech to his suitors, to prove, but without harm, what prompt wit and what bold spirit were in every man. In the which, as in a virtue much agreeing with his nature, so that therewith were not joined impudency, he took great delectation. And the same person as apt and meet to have an administration in the weal-public, he did lovingly embrace. In his speech he was fine, eloquent, and pithy. In the law he had profound knowledge ; in wit, he was at one of the Inns of Court. “ The king and the commonwealth relied chiefly upon this man’s counsell, as he, by whose policie, king Henrie the Seaventh both gott the crown of England from Richard the Third, the usurper, and also most happily procured the two houses of Lan¬ caster and Yorke to be united by marriage.” More’s Life by his great grandson, 4 to. edit. p. 19* Dr. John Barwick, in his Life of Bishop [Thomas J Morton, who lived in the seventeenth century, and who was a descendant of the Cardinal, tells us, that, it was by the Archbishop’s “ contrivance and management, the two houses of York and Lancaster were united ; whereby that issue of blood was stopped which had so long and plen¬ tifully flowed within the bowels of this our native country. See Bar- wick’s Life of the Bishop, p. 61. edit. London, 4 to. 1660. The Archbishop was a general patron of literature, for we find many early printed books dedicated to him : among others, there is a very rare one by Holt, a schoolmaster, printed without date or printer’s name, but from the typography, I should suppose it to be Wynkyn de Worde’s. It is called “ Lac Puerorum, My Ike for Chyldren : ” this title is over a wood cut of a schoolmaster surrounded by his boys. On the reverse of the title is the dedication to Morton, with some Latin verses by More, when he was a young man—subscribed “ Thome More diserti adolescentuli in lucubraciunculas Holtiade Epigramma.” 174 UTOPIA. incomparable ; and in memory wonderful excellent. These qualities, which in him were by nature singular, he by learning and use had made perfect. The king put much trust in his counsel, the weal-public also in a manner leaned unto him, when I was there : for even in the chief of his youth, he was taken from school into the court, and there passed all his time in much trouble and business, being continually tumbled and tossed in the waves of divers misfortunes and adversities. And so by many and great dangers, he learned the experience of the world, which, so being learned, cannot easily be forgotten. It chanced on a certain day, when I sat at his table,* there was also a certain layman, cunning in the laws of your realm : who, I cannot tell, whereof taking occasion, began diligently and earnestly to praise that strait and rigorous justice, which at that time was there executed upon felons ; who, as he said, were, for the most part, twenty hanged together upon one gallows! And, seeing so few escaped punishment, he said he could not choose * By introducing the ensuing discussion at the Cardinal’s table. More takes an opportunity of paying a compliment to his first patron and friend, Morton ; in whose house he himself, when a young man, was received with great courtesy and kindness. “ For the Cardinali often would make trial of [More’s] his pregnant wit, especially at Christmas Merriments, when, having plays for recreation, this youth would suddenly steppe up amongst the players, and never studying* before upon the matter, make often a part of his own invention ; which was so witty and so full of jests, that he alone made more sporte and laughter than all the players besides; for which his towardliness, the Cardinali delighted much in him, and would often say of him unto diverse of the Nobilitie, who at sundry times dined with him, that “that boy there waiting on him, whosoever should live to see it, would prove a marvelous rare man /” Great Grandson’s Life, 4to. edit. 19, 20. Hoddesdon’s Life, p. 3. Almost the whole of this first book, which may be called rather An introduction to the history of Utopia, is supposed to be the conversa¬ tion which passed at the Cardinal’s table, between the Cardinal, Hythloday, a Lawyer, Friar, &c. &c. INTRODUCTION. 175 but greatly wander and marvel how and by what evil luck it should so come to pass, that thieves nevertheless were in every place so rife* and so rank.” “ Nay, Sir, quoth I (for I durst boldly speak my mind, before the Cardinal), marvel nothing hereat: for this punishment of thieves passeth the limits of justice, and is also very hurtful to the weal- public :f for it is too extreme and cruel a punishment for theft, and yet not sufficient to restrain and withhold men from theft: for simple theft is not so great an offence that it ought to be punished with death ; neither is ! there any punishment so horrible that it can keep them from stealing which have none other craft whereby to get their living. Therefore in this point, not you only, but also the most part of the world, be like evil schoolmasters, which be readier to beat than to teach their scholars. For great and horrible punishments be appointed for thieves, whereas, much rather, provision should have been made that there were some means whereby they might get their living ; so that no man should be driven to this extreme necessity— first to steal, and then to die.” “ Yes (quoth he), this matter is well enough provided for already. There be handy-crafts—there is husbandry to get their living, if they would not willingly be naught.” “ Nay, quoth I, you shall not escape so : for, first of all, I will speak nothing of them * Sanguinary : from the Saxon to thrust or stab. *j* This is a very judicious observation.— More saw, even in his own times, when th o. penal la^ivs were not so multiplied in this countiy as they are at present, that many of our punishments were dispropor¬ tionate to the offences for which they were inflicted. Montesquieu, Beccaria, Blackstone, and other legal writers, have supported the same opinion. It is the certainty, and not the severity, of punishment which operates against the commission or repetition of crime. “ If we enquire,” says the profound Montesquieu, “ into the causes of all human corruptions, we shall find that they proceed from the impunity of criminals, and not from the moderation of punishments.” Sp. Laws, book vi. ch. xii. 176 UTOPIA. that come home out of the wars maimed and lame, as not long ago out of Blackheaih * held, and a little before that, out of the wars in France: such, I say, as put their lives in jeopardy for the weal-publics, or the king’s sake, and by reason of weakness and lameness be not able to occupy their old crafts, and be too aged to learn new—of them I will speak nothing; forasmuch as war, like the tide, ebbeth and floweth. But let us consider those things that chance daily before our eyes. First, there is a great number of gentlemen which cannot be content to live idle themselves, like dorrers,f of that which other have laboured for—their tenants, I mean ; whom they poll and shave to the quick, by raising their rents (for this only point of frugality do they use, men else, through their lavish and prodigal spend¬ ing, able to bring themselves to very beggary) ; these gentlemen, I say, do not only live in idleness themselves, but also carry about with them at their tails, a great flock or train of idle and loitering serving-men, which never learned any craft whereby to get their livings. + These * “e Cornubiensi prcelio ” in the original; which Burnet and Warner translate «the Cornish rebellion” The Cornish rebels marched as far as Black Heath, where they gave battle to the king’s forces, and were defeated with great slaughter. t Drones ; in the modern translation. The substantive “ Dorrers ” is of rare occurrence. Dr. Johnson says that the verb “ To dorr” [a Feutonick word, from Tor , stupid] he found only in Skinner. More’s expression is “ tanquam fuel ,” which Robinson has translated as above. t It would be well if our nobility and people of fashion would consider the great injury they do to the public, by retaining so many young and able men in their service; who do nothing, and have nothing to do, but to wear a livery; to loll behind a coach ; to learn the follies and vices of their masters in their conversations at table • and when they are dismissed a service for their dishonesty, scarcely any thing else being thought a crime, either go upon the highway, or at best take a public-house, and make it a nursery and place of ,1 INTRODUCTION. 1 77 men, as soon as their master is dead, or be sick themselves, be incontinently thrus': out of doors : for gentlemen had rather keep idle persons, than sick men, and many times the dead man’s heir is not able to maintain so great a house, and keep so many serving-men as his father did. Then in the mean season, they that be thus destitute of service, either starve for hunger or manfully play the thieves: * for what would you have them to do ? When they have wandered abroad so long, until they have worn threadbare their apparel, and also impaired their health , then gentlemen, because of their pale and sickly faces and patched coats, will not take them into service: and hus¬ bandmen dare not set them a work ; knowing well enough, that he is nothing meet to do true and faithful service to a poor man with a spade and mattock for small wages and hard fare, which, being daintily and tenderly pampered up in idleness and pleasure, was wont with a*f* sword and a resort for all manner of wickedness. This multiplicity of idle servants, which in the present age is almost a nuisance, takes many useful hands from the public, who might be employed to great advantage in agriculture, and the navy; in both which such hands are extremely wanted. But we seem to be so infatuated, that nothing will awaken us from our luxury, and national folly, till it is too late for any purpose but to feel our misery.—W arner. * Robbery was sufficiently prevalent in these times; for 22,000 criminals are supposed to have been executed during Henry the Eighth’s reign. Hollinshed, [pp. 186, 199, and 246,] is quoted by Dr. Henry to prove that theft was in some measure regarded as an occupation, “of which the guilt might be extenuated by courage and success ! ” See the latter’s Hist, of Great Britain, vol. xii. p. 362. 8vo. edit. 1799. It is afterwards said, “Thieves be not the most false and faint-hearted soldiers,” &c. -j- This is a curious picture of the customs of the times as relating to the Dresses of Servants. We are told by Fitzherbert, a contem¬ poraneous writer, that “Men’s servants have suche pleytes upon theyr brestes, and ruffes upon their sieves, above theyr elbowes, that yf theyr mayster, or theymselfe, hadde never so greatte neede, they coulde not shoote one shote to hurte theyr ennemyes, tyll they had i;8 UTOPIA. buckler by his side, to jet through the street with a brag¬ ging look, and to think himself too good to be any man’s mate. Nay, by Saint Mary, Sir (quoth the lawyer), not so: for this kind of men must we make most of; for in them, as men of stouter stomachs, bolder spirits, and manlier courages than handy craftsmen and ploughmen be, doth consist the whole power, strength, and puissance of our army, when we must fight in battle.” “ Forsooth, Sir, as well you might say (quoth I), that for wars sake you must cherish thieves: for surely you shall never lack thieves, whilst you have them. No, nor thieves be not the most false and faint-hearted soldiers, nor soldiers be not the cowardliest thieves : so well these two crafts agree together. But this fault, though it be much used among you, yet is it not peculiar to you only, but common also almost to all nations. Yet France besides this is troubled and infected with a much sorer plague. The whole realm is filled and besieged with hired soldiers in peace time (if that be peace) which be brought in under the same colour and pretence, that hath persuaded you to keep these idle serving-men. For these wise-fools and very arch dolts, thought the wealth of the whole country herein to consist, if there were cast of theyr cotes, or cut of theyr sieves.” See his Husbandry , p. 96. [Andrew Borde expresses the capriciousness of Englishmen about dress by the naked figure of a man with a pair of shears in his hand, and cloth on his arm, with these lines underneath : “ I am an Englishman, and naked I stand here, Musyng in my mynde what rayment I shal were; For now I wyll were thys, and now I wyl were that; Now I wyl were I cannot tel what.” Andreiv Borders Boke of Knowledge .— Ed.] The words of More are, “ solitus sit accinctus acinace ac cetra, totam viciniam vultu nebulonico despicere,” &c. which describe a more gorgeous dress : “ Acinaces ” means a Persian scymitar , and is so used by Horaee in lib. i. Od. xxvii. v. 5. See Watson’s note upon this expression, ed. 1750. vol. i. 114. [4.] INTRODUCTION. 179 ever in readiness a strong and a sure garrison, specially of old practised soldiers ; for they put no trust at all in men unexercised. And therefore they must be fain to seek for war, to the end that they may ever have practised soldiers, and cunning man-slayers, least that (as it is prettily said of Sallust) their hands and their minds through idleness or lack of exercise should wax dull. But how pernicious and pestilent a thing it is to main¬ tain such beasts, the Frenchmen by their own arms have learned ; and the examples of the Romans, Carthaginians, Syrians, and of many other countries, do manifestly de¬ clare. For not only the empire, but also the fields and cities of all these, by divers occasions have been over-run and destroyed of their own armies, before hand had in readi¬ ness. Now, how unnecessary a thing this is, hereby it may appear: that the French soldiers, which from their youth have been practised and inured in feats of arms, do not crack or advance themselves to have very often got the upper hand and mastery of your new made and unprac¬ tised soldiers. But in this point I will not use many words, least perchance I may seem to flatter you. No, nor those same handy craftmen of yours in cities, nor yet the rude and uplandish ploughmen of the country, are not supposed to be greatly afraid of your gentlemen’s idle serving-men, unless it be such as be not of body or stature correspondent to their strength and courage ; or else whose bold stomachs be discouraged through poverty. Thus you may see, that it is not to be feared least they should be effeminated, if they were brought up in good crafts and laboursome works, whereby to get their livings, whose stout and sturdy bodies (for gentlemen vouchsafe to corrupt and spoil none but picked and chosen men) now, either by reason of rest and idleness, be brought to weakness: or else by too easy and womanly exercises, be made feeble and unable to endure i8o UTOPIA. hardness. Truly howsoever the case standeth, this, me thinketh, is nothing available to the weal-public, for war sake ; which you never have, but when you will yourselves ; to keep and maintain an innumerable flock of that sort of men, that be so troublesome and noyous in peace, whereof you ought to have a thousand times more regard than of war. But yet this is not only the necessary cause of stealing. There is another, which, as I suppose, is proper and peculiar to you Englishmen alone.” “ What is that,” quoth the Cardinal ? “ Forsooth, my Lord ” (quoth I) your sheep, that were wont to be so meek and tame, and so small eaters; now, as I hear say, be become so great devourers, and so wild, that they eat up and swallow down the very men themselves. They consume, destroy, and devour whole fields, houses, and cities: for look, in what paits of the realm doth grow the finest, and therefore dearest wool—there, noblemen and gentlemen, yea, and certain abbots, holy men, no doubt, not contenting them¬ selves with the yearly revenues and profits that were wont to grow to their forefathers and predecessors of their lands, nor being content that they live in rest and pleasure, no¬ thing profiting—yea, much noying the weal-public, leave no ground for tillage : they inclose all into pastures ; they throw down houses; they pluck down towns, and leave nothing standing, but only the church to be made a sheep- house.* And, as though you lost no small quantity of ground by forests, chases, lands, and parks, those good holy * More, in this place, alludes to luxuriancy of eating as well as of clothing. “ The tables were (at this time) more luxurious and expen¬ sive than formerly; distinguished by the variety of delicate viands, as well as by the quantity of substantial fare; and Polydore Virgil (a contemporary) expatiates with visible complacency on the various pleasures of those tables at which he had feasted; on the juicy flavour of the mutton, and the sweetness of the beef, especially when slightly salted, &c.” See Dr. Henry’s Hist, of Great Britain, vol. xii. p. 375. INTRODUCTION. 1 81 men turn all dwelling-places, and all glebe land, into deso¬ lation and wilderness. Therefore it is, that one covetous and unsatiable cor¬ morant and very plague of his native country, may compass about and inclose many thousand acres of ground together within one pale or hedge : the husbandmen be thrust out of their own, or else either by covin and fraud, or violent oppression, they be put besides it; or by wrongs and injuries they be so wearied, that they be compelled to sell all. By one means therefore or by other, either by hook or by crook* they must needs depart away—poor, silly, wretched souls ! men, women, husbands, wives, fatherless children, widows, woeful mothers with their young babes, and the whole household small in substance, and much in number : as husbandry requireth many hands. Away they trudge, I say, out of their known and accus¬ tomed houses, finding no place to rest in. All their house¬ hold stuff, which is very little worth, though it might well abide the sale; yet, being suddenly thrust out, they be constrained to sell it for a thing of nought And when they have wandered abroad till that be spent, what can they then do but steal, and then justly, pardy , be hanged, or else go about a begging ? And yet then also they be cast into prison as vagabonds, because they go about and * “ By hook or crook,” so in the edition of 1551. Dr. Johnson adds the authorities only of Hudibras and Dryden to his definition of this expression. T. Warton in a note to his Faery Queen, combats the assertion that it first occurred as a proverb in Charles the First’s time; for he adduces the authorities of Spenser and Skelton. Mr. Todd, whose researches into English literature have been equalled by few of our lexicographers or commentators, tells us that the above expression occurs in B. Riche’s Simonides, 1584; and in Hawes’s Hist, of La Bel Pucell, &c. 1554;—but even this latter critic seems not to have been aware of Ralph Robinson’s authority. See Todd s Spenser, vol. vi. 39. , u [It occurs in Udall’s trans. Apophth. of Erasmus, 1542, t. 30b.— fcD.J 182 UTOPIA. work not: whom no man will set at work, though they never so willingly proffer themselves thereto. For one shepherd or herdsman is enough to eat up that ground with cattle, to the occupying whereof about husbandry many hands were requisite. And this is also the cause why victuals be now in many places dearer* Yea, besides this, the price of wool is so risen, that poor folks, which were wont to work it, and make cloth thereof, be now able to buy none at all. And by this means very many be forced to forsake work, and to give themselves to idleness. To** after that so much ground was inclosed for pasture, an infinite multitude of sheep died of the rot: such ven¬ geance God took of their inordinate and unsalable cove¬ tousness, sending among the sheep that pestiferous murrain, which much more justly should have fallen on the sheep- masters own heads ! And though the number of sheep increase never so fast, yet the price falleth not one mite, because there be so few sellers : for they be almost all come into a few rich men’s hands, whom no need forceth to sell before they lust, and they lust not before they may sell as dear as they lust. Now the same cause bringeth in like dearth of the other kinds of cattle; yea, and that so much * The grievance complained of in this article, was at that time complained of justly; and it was at last so severely felt, that the legislature was obliged to interpose with acts of parliament to promote tillage and husbandry, and to prevent the lands in England from emg almost all converted into pasture; perhaps we are running now intomi extreme on the other hand—as in this country we generally This observation, by Dr. Warner, was written fifty [120] years ago. t would be d^cult to menti ° n any country, ancient or modern, w ere husbandry of all kinds is so scientifically understood, and so successfully practised as it is at present in this country ! The Agri- cu tura ocieties are established on a very wise footing, and have produced extensive good to all classes of Society. [The damage supposed to be caused by too much sheep-feeding and 00 little tillage was allude^to by most writers of the period.—E d.] INTRODUCTION. i3 3 the more, because that, after farms plucked down and husbandry decayed, there is no man that passeth for the breeding of young store: for these rich men bring not up the young ones of great cattle as they do lambs. * But first they buy them abroad very cheap, and after¬ ward when they be fatted in their pastures, they sell them again exceeding dear. And therefore (as I suppose) the whole incommodity hereof is not yet felt: for yet they make dearth only in those places where they sell. But when they shall fetch them away from thence where they be bred faster than they can be brought up, then shall there also be felt great dearth; store beginning there to fail, where the ware is bought. Thus the unreasonable covetousness of a few hath turned that thing to the utter undoing of your island, in the which thing the chief felicity of your realm did consist: for this great dearth of victuals causeth men to keep as little houses, and as small hospi¬ tality as they possibly may, and to put away their servants —whither, I pray you, but a begging ? or else, which these gentle bloods, and stout stomachs will sooner set their minds unto—stealing ? Now to amend the matter, to this wretched beggary and miserable poverty, is joined great wantonness, importunate superfluity, and excessive not: for not only gentlemen’s servants, but also handy craftmen, yea, and almost the ploughmen of the country with all other sorts of people, use much strange and proud new- fangles in their apparel ,'f and too much prodigal riot, and sumptuous fare at their table. * This part of the narrative, disclosing the ancient customs of purchasing of cattle, &c., is extremely interesting. More’s Utopia is, in every respect, a very valuable record of some of the prevalent cus¬ toms of the times when it was written. f It would appear from Roger Ascham, that this “ strange and proud new-fangled apparel,” among the common classes of society, was equally prevalent in the reign of Elizabeth ; and that it ongi- UTOPIA. 184 Now bawds, queans,* whores, harlots, strumpets, brothel- houses, stews ; and yet another stews, wine-taverns, ale¬ houses, and tippling-houses,*f* with so many naughty, lewd, natfid at court. “ If,” says he, “ three or foure great ones in courte w.ll nedes outrage in appareli, in huge hose, in monstrous hattes in gaunshe colours—let the prince proclame, make lawes, order, punishe commaunde everie gate in London dailie to be watched; let all good men beside do everie where what they can; surely the misorder of appareli in mean men abrode, shall never be amended except the greatest m courte will order and amend themselves first.” School¬ master, p. 243. BennePs edit. * J u " ius > 7 th f Etymologist, was of opinion that this word always signified a bad woman: Sibbald, however, in the glossary to his Chronicle of Scottish Poetry, says it has not always that signification. Bishop Percy, in the glossary to the third volume of his Reliques, ed. 1794 , defines it " sorry base woman.” Mr. G. Chalmers, whose authonty is; preferable to either, says, in his glossary to Sir David indsay s Works, vol. 111. 434, that it means <( a wench, a woman 2 ” rrom the Saxon, quen, quaen. There can be no doubt about the sense in which More and his made use of the word - Robinson spells it « qweynes ” T Iabernse vinariae, cervisiae:” literally - wine taverns, and and frr%t, eeP r S ' ,, “u WC ^ t0 judgG fr0m con ^mporary history, vices nh 1 6 Stat , U l eS * hat have been Progressively enacted against the ™ 0Ve r? am l d ° fj We Shal1 find that the y were ver y serious and been Ion S ’ Ut ^ eVl1 ° f ale ~ house ke ep™g, in particular, has been long known and regretted in this country. seen f a rl™ rt ° f kT" beingS the were in former da y* ™»y he ems o haveT r S in Shakespeare-their profligacy seems to have been forgiven, or forgotten, in that species of licentious :" b 0 01 hav rous h mi rt Vr hich they Wed to indui ^ -ah was eoual to the arm ‘ he ‘ r 3udit0rs ’ The conceit of these fellows was equal to their ignorance and immorality.—"An Host" says Sir or the? ° Verbury ’ L‘ wo hundred years ago,] « is the kernel of a^ign • or the sign „ the shell, and mine host is the snail. Hee consists ol ouble beere and fellowship, and his vices are the bawds of his thirst as e house ert He S glV6S Ws gU6StS 3 * -1. of him^ as house. He answers all men’s expectations to his power save in Ahe reckoning; and hath gotten the trick of greatness to ^ ali dove house and to I*™*, ^ ^ is the Cum ™i"-eed of his dotm-house, and to be a good guest is a warrant for her liberty Hee onlwThi °nu?s U e eStS I ^ men ’ S , friends friend ’ s f riend, and is sensible y purse - ,n 3 word ’ hee 15 "one of his own; for he neither INTRODUCTION. 185 eats, drinks, or thinkes, but at other men’s charges and appointments.” Sir Thomas Overbury’s Wife, and Characters, edit. 1630; and see note in Preliminary Epistle, p. 155 ante. In the time of Edward VI. these “ tabernce vinarice ” appear to have been admired for their accommodations, and to have brought wealth to their owners. We have been favoured with a description of one, 200 years ago, by the entertaining author of Micro-cosmo- graphie, ed. 1664. “ A Tavern, Is a degree, or (if you will) a paire of stairs above an alehouse, where men are drunk with more credit and apologie. If the Vintner s nose be at the door, it is a sign sufficient; but the absence of this is supplied by the Ivie-bush. The rooms are ill breathed like the drinkers that have been washed well over night, and are smelt too fasting the next morning. Not furnished with beds apt to be defiled, but with more necessary implements, stools, table, and a chamber pot. It is a broacher of more news than hogsheads, and more jests than news; which are sucked up here by some spungy brain, and from thence squeezed into a comedie. Men come here to make merry, but indeed make a noise, and this music above is answered with the clinking below. The Drawers are the civillest people in it, men of good bringing up j and howsoever we esteem of them, none can boast more justly of their high calling. It is the best theatre of nature, where the parts are truly acted, not played ; and the business, as in the rest of the world, up and down ; to wit, from the bottom of the cellar to the great chamber. A melancholy man would find matters to work upon, to see heads as brittle as glasses, and as often broken. Men come hither to quarrel, and come hither to be made friends; and if Plutarch will lend me his simile, it is even Telephus' s sword that makes wounds and cures them. It is the common con¬ sumption of the afternoon, and the murderer, or maker away, of a rainy day. It is the Torrid Zone that scorches the face, and tobacco the gunpowder that blows it up. Much harm would be done if the charitable vintner had not water ready for the flames. A house of sin you may call it, but not a house of darkness, for the candles are never out; and it is like those countries farre in the north, where it is as clear at midnight as at mid-day. After a long sitting, it becomes like a street in a dashing showre, where the spouts are flushing above, and the conduits running below, while the Jordans , like swelling rivers, overflow their banks. To give the totall reckoning of it, it is the busy man’s recreation, the idle man’s business, the melancholy man’s sanctuary, the inn-a-court man’s entertainment, the scholar’s kindness, and the citizen’s courtesie. It is the study of sparkling wits, and a cup of sparkling sherry their book—where we leave them.” See p. 62 of this witty and well written little book of “ Characters. [Chaucer has given a capital picture of a “ Host” in his prologues to the Canterbury Tales. —Ed.] iS6 UTOPIA. and unlawful games ; as dice, cards,* tables, tennis, bowls, coytsjf do not all these send the haunters of them * “ Had our author lived in these days, when gaming is almost the only business of people of fashion, and that not for running cash of the pocket, but for whole patrimonies; when a majority of the two houses of P - 1 have formed themselves into a club—even against the ties of different parties—to establish it as a science, he might perhaps have seen reason to think that gaming was so far from being a pernicious practice, that it was the only thing which could save a sinking nation from absolute ruin : or else that so considerable a body of men, of such rank, such patriotism, and such political attainments, would not unite in it so openly against the 1-s of the land.” Warner Are the times now altered? St. James’s-street will best resolve this question. Six gaming-houses in one street form no symptoms of the decline of cards, dice, &c. t We are told, in a nearly contemporary treatise, written by Lemnius, that the principal amusements of the stronger Englishmen about this time, were “wrestling, coytinge, tennis, bowlinge, whorle- battinge, lifting great waightes, pitching the barre, ryding, running, Ieapinge, shooting in gunnes, swymming, tossing the pike, tyltin^e barryers and tourney : ” the gentler exercises were « to be caryed in wagons rowed in boates, singinge and musicall melodie: and if thereto be used a cleare and lowde readinge of bigge tuned soundes y stoppes and certayne pauses, as our comical fellows now do that measure rhetorick by their peevish rhythmes, it will bring exceeding much good to the breast and muscles.” Perhaps the most curious book, descriptive of the manners and customs of the English in these times, is the one called, “ Description des Royaulmes d’Anglettere et d’Ecosse. Par. 1558, Reprinted with Notes, Lond. 4 to. 1775. See Mr. Ellis’s Spec. Engl. Poet. vol. b p. 332 . Ihe following passage, however, from Lemnius, is too amusing to be withheld from the reader. ‘^The pavements ,” says he, «are sprinkled upon, and floores coo ed wyth springing water, and then strewed with sedge, and the par ours tnmmed up with greene boughs, freshe herbes or vyne eaves which thinges no nations do more decently, more trymmely, nor more sightly then they do in Englande. For they [the English! be people very civ.il and wel-affected to men well stryken in yfares, and to such as beare any countenance and estimation of learnings and frie e ; d h an ^ * UWsr .' Aat 1 thincke of the incredible curtesie and friendlmesse in speache and affabilitie used in this famous royalme 1 must needes confesse, it doth surmount and carye away the pncke and price of al others. And besyde this, the neate clean- INTRODUCTION. 187 straight a stealing, when their money is gone ? Cast out these pernicious abominations; make a law that they which pluck down farms, and towns of husbandry, shall re-edify them, or else yield, and uprender, the possession thereof to such as will go to the cost of building them anew. lines, the exquisite finenesse, the pleasaunte and delightfull furniture in every point for household, wonderfully rejoyced mee; their chambers and parlours, strawed over with sweet herbes, refreshed me; their nosegayes finelye entermingled wyth sondry sortes of fragraunte floures, in their bedchambers and privie roomes, with comfortable smell cheered mee up, and entierlye delighted all my sences : and this do I think to be the cause y* Englishmen, lyving by such holsome and exquisite meate , and in so holesome and exquisite ayre, be so freshe and cleane coloured; their faces, eyes, and countenance, cary- ing with it, and representing, a portly grace and comelynesse, geveth out evident tokens of an honest mind : in language very smooth and allective, but yet seasoned and tempered within the limits and bonds of moderation} not bumbasted with any unseemely termes, or inforced with any clawing flatteries or allurements. At their tables they be verye sumptuous, and love to have good fare; yet neither use they to overcharge themselves with excesse of drincke, neither thereto greatly provoke and urge others, but suffer every man to drincke in such measure as beste pleaseth himselfe; which drinck (being eyther ale or beere) most pleasaunt in taste and holesomely relyced, they fetch not from foreine places, but have it amonge themselves brewed ! This account was originally written in Latin by Laevinus Lemnius, 1 * a foreign physician, on his visit to England in the six¬ teenth century, and was translated into English by Thomas Newton. 8vo. 1576, under the title of “ The Touchstone of Complexions , &c. See Mr. Brydges’s Censura Literaria, vol. vi. 52. [No. ix. New Series] where there is a still longer extract from the original work. Mr. Haslewood is said to be in possession of the first English edit, of 1576 . f Lemnius, a celebrated physician, was born in Zealand A.D. 1505, and died about the year 1568. There is an interesting account of him in Foppens’s Bibliotheca Belgica, where he is called “ Virinpraxi exercitatus, et omnino felix ; comis et affabilis omnibus ; aegros suos jocis facetiisque, honestis tamen, saepe non parum recreare ac sublevare solitus. Staturi media et quadrata, statu corporis incessuque erecto, forma faciei ac fronte sereni. Scripsit, (says Foppens) eleganti ac masculo stilo varia.” Vide torn. 11. 792. His writings are then enumerated, but the above work seems to have escaped Foppens. 1 88 UTOPIA. Suffer not these rich men to buy up all, to ingross, and forestall,* and with their monopoly to keep the market alone as please them. Let not so many be brought up in idleness ; let husbandry and tillage be restored : let cloth¬ working be renewed, that there may be honest labours for this idle sort to pass their time in profitably, which hitherto either poverty hath caused to be thieves, or else now be either vagabonds, or idle serving-men, and shortly will be thieves. Doubtless, unless you find a remedy for these enormities, you shall in vain advance yourselves of execu¬ ting justice upon felons : for this justice is more beautiful in appearance, and more flourishing to the shew, than either just or profitable : for by suffering your youth wan¬ tonly, and viciously to be brought up, and to be infected, even from their tender age, by little and little with vice ; then a God’s name to be punished, when they commit the same faults after being come to man’s state, which from their youth they were ever like to do—in this point, I pray you, what other thing do you than make thieves, and then punish them ? ” Now, as I was thus speaking, the lawyer began to make himself ready to answer, and was determined with himself to use the common fashion and trade of disputers, which be more diligent in rehearsing, than answering, as thinking the memory worthy of the chief praise. “Indeed, Sir (quoth he), you have said well, being but a stranger, and one that might rather hear something of these matters, than have any exact or perfect knowledge of the same—as * About seven years ago, the subject of forestalling made a great noise in this country : the memorable trial at Worcester did not, however, settle the question, although the forestaller was found guilty. Two of the ablest judges in the land differed in their opinions about the practice ; by the one it was called criminal, by the other it was deemed fair, and of course unpunishable. INTRODUCTION. 189 I will incontinent, by open proof, make manifest and plain. For first I will rehearse in order all that you have said ; then I will declare wherein you be deceived, through lack of knowledge, in all our fashions, manners, and customs ; and last of all, I will answer your arguments, and confute them every one. First, therefore, I will begin where I promised. Four things, you seemed to me”—“Hold your peace (quoth the Cardinal), for it appeareth that you will make no short answer which make such a beginning— Wherefore at this time, you shall not take the pains to make your answer, but keep it to your next meeting, which I would be right glad that it might be to-morrow next, unless either you or Master Raphael have earnest let.* But now, Master Raphael , I would very gladly hear of you, Why you think theft not worthy to be punished with death, or what other punishment you can devise more expedient to the weal-public ? For I am sure that you are not of that mind, that you would have theft escape unpunished. For if now the extreme punishment of death cannot cause them to leave stealing, and if ruffians and robbers should be sure of their lives, what violence, what fear, were able to hold their hands from robbing—which would take the mitigation of the punishment, as a very provocation to the mischief ? ” “ Surely, my lord, I think it not right nor justice, that the loss of money should cause the loss of man’s life : for mine opinion is, that all the goods in the world are not able to countervail man’s life. But if they would thus say; that the breaking of justice, and the transgression of laws is recompensed with this punishment, and not the loss of the money, then why may not this extreme and rigorous * The old word for hindrance —any thing to prevent—it is the common word inserted in law-deeds. The lessee is to enjoy the land or tenement “without any let, suit, or hindrance,” etc. from the lessor. UTOPIA. 190 justice well be called plain injury? For so cruel govern¬ ance, so strait rules, and unmerciful laws be not allowable, that if a small offence be committed, by and by the sword should be drawn : nor so stoical ordinances are to be born withal, as to count all offences of such equality, that the killing of a man, or the taking of his money from him, were both one matter, and the one no more heinous offence than the other : between the which two, if we have any respect to equity, no similitude or equality consisteth. God commandeth us that we shall not kill. And be we then so hasty to kill a man for taking a little money ? And if a man would understand killing by this commandment of God, to be forbidden after no larger wise than man’s con¬ stitutions define killing to be lawful ; then, why may it not likewise by man’s constitutions be determined after what sort whoredom, fornication, and perjury may be lawful ? For whereas by the permission of God, no man neither hath power to kill neither himself, nor yet any other man : then if a law made by the consent of men, concerning slaughter of men, ought to be of such strength, force, and virtue, that they which, contrary to the commandment of God, have killed those whom this constitution of man commanded to be killed, be clean quit and exempt out of the bonds and danger of God’s commandment ? shall it then not by this reason follow, that the power of God’s commandment shall extend no further, than man’s laws doth define, and permit ? And so shall it come to pass, that in like manner, man’s constitutions in all things shall determine how far the observation of all God’s command¬ ments shall extend. To be short, Moses 1 law, though it were ungentle and sharp, as a law that was given to bond- men, yea, and them very obstinate, stubborn, and stiff¬ necked—yet it punished theft by the purse, and not with death. INTRODUCTION. 191 And let us not think that God in .the new law of clemency and mercy, under the which he ruleth us with fatheily gentleness, as his dear children, hath given us gi eater scope and license to the execution of cruelty, one upon another. Now you have heard the reasons, whereby I am persuaded, that this punishment is unlawful. Furthermore, I think that there is nobody that knoweth not, how unreasonable, yea, how pernicious a thing it is to the weal-public, that a thief and an homicide or murderer should suffer equal and like punishment: for the thief, seeing that man that is condemned for theft in no less jeopardy, nor judged to no less punishment, than him that is convict of man¬ slaughter, through this cogitation only he is strongly and forcibly provoked, and in a manner constrained to kill him, whom else he would have but robbed : for the murder being once done, he is in less fear, and in more hope that the deed shall not be bewrayed or known, seeing the party is now dead, and rid out of the way, which only might have uttered and disclosed it. But if he chance to be taken and descried, yet he is in no more danger and jeopardy than if he had committed but single felony. Therefore, while we go about with such cruelty to make thieves afraid, we provoke them to kill good men* * It has long been my opinion, that we presume too much on our power of making laws, and too far infringe on the command of God, by taking away the lives of men in the manner we do in England, for theft and robbery ; and that this is not only a pernicious error, for the reason given, but a national abomination. It must be granted, that all societies have a power within themselves of making laws to secure property, and of annexing punishments to the breach of them : but then on the other hand, it must be owned that no man, or body of men, can have power to make laws which are contrary to the laws of God, or to ordain such punishments for the breach of them as he hath positively forbidden. It is to little purpose to urge, that men may agree to give up their natural rights, for their mutual benefit, and to hold their lives and liberties upon certain terms and conditions, on 192 UTOPIA. Now as touching this question, what punishment were more commodious and better—that, truly, in my judgment, is easier to be found than what punishment might be worse. For why should we doubt that to be a good and a profit¬ able way for the punishment of offenders, which we know the bieach of which they should be forfeited; because, though this argument will hold with regard to liberty and property, it will not hold with regard to life; of which God alone is the sole disposer, and over which we have no right, in ourselves, or other men. A robber in this country indeed sins with his eyes open, and knows the penalty which he is going to incur; but the wilfulness of the crime is no sort of excuse for making the punishment far exceed the heinousness of the transgression : and who will deny that a little theft or robbery_ perhaps of the value of two or three shillings only—is not punished infinitely beyond a just proportion, when it is punished with death ? These laws, however, in my opinion, are not more abominable, than they are ill-contrived; if this observation, which men versed in affairs make, is true that the riches of a nation are in proportion to the number of hands employed in works of skill and labour. How many hands of this sort, which might be so employed, in making sails and coidage for the navy, in our fleets or dock-yards, in mending the highways, or converting waste lands into tillage, are sent every sessions to Tyburn for theft and robbery, the reader need not be told. Ihe laws of God affix no other punishment to these crimes than ample restitution, or perpetual slavery; a word of great horror in ng and, where we boast so highly of our liberty: but it does not require the spirit of prophecy to foresee, that this liberty, which is now in many cases our misery, will some time or other be our destruc¬ tion. A confinement of this sort to constant labour for the public— whatever name we give it—would be dreaded worse than death by j ese wretches, who have no idea of a future state; and consequently deter them more from the commission of such crimes, which is the only reasonable end of punishment in a state.”— Warner. I hese reasons appear to be very solid and satisfactory : not that I would hence infer we are to follow the example of our old German ancestors; who, according to Montesquieu, "admitted of none but pecuniary punishments,” b. vi. c. xviii. although we are told by the same authority that " in countries remarkable for the lenity of their laws the spirit of the inhabitants is as much affected by slight penalties, as in other countries by severer punishments ” b. ii. c xii Punishment, says Grotius, "in its general acception ”‘ is, malum passionis quod infligitur ob malum actionis-the « the evil INTRODUCTION. 193 did in times past so long please the Romans, men in the administration of a weal-public most expert, politic and cunning ? Such as among them were convict of great and heinous trespasses, them they condemn into stone quarries, and into mines to dig metal, there to be kept in chains all the days of their life. But as concerning this matter, I allow the ordinance of no nation so well as that which I saw, whilst I travelled abroad about the world, used in Persia, among the people that commonly be called the Polylerites; whose land is both large and ample, and also well and wittily governed ; and the people in all conditions free, and ruled by their own laws, saving that they pay a yearly tribute to the great king of Persia. But because they be far from the sea, compassed and • inclosed, almost round about, with high mountains, they do content themselves with the fruits of their own land, which is of itself very fair and fertile : for this cause they go not to other countries, nor do other come to them. And ac¬ cording to the old custom of the land, they desire not to that we suffer for the evil that we do.” “ It is therefore, says the wise and humane Blackstone, the enormity, and dangerous tendency of the crime that alone can warrant any earthly legislature in putting him to death who commits it. It is not its frequency only, or the difficulty of otherwise preventing it, that will excuse our attempting to prevent it by a 'wanton effusion of human blood. For though the end of punishment is to deter men from offending, it can never follow from thence, that it is lawful to deter them at any rate and by any means; since there may be unlawful methods of enforcing obedience even to the justest laws. Every humane legislature will be therefore extremely cautious of establishing laws that inflict the penalty of death, especially for slight offences, or such as are merely furtive.” Commentaries on the La'ws of England , book iv. ch. i. edit. 1787. But the whole chapter, which is short, is well deserving of serious perusal. “ An house of correction,” says Grotius, “ strikes more terror into an idle rogue, than the gallows ; and to be chained to an oar, than death itself.” Be Jure Bell, et Pac. 1 . ii. c. xx. N 194 UTOPIA. enlarge the bounds of their dominions : and those that they have, by reason of the high hills, be easily defended : and the tribute which they pay to their chief lord and king, setteth them quit and free from warfare. Thus their life is commodious rather than gallant, and may better be called happy or wealthy, than notable and famous: for they be not known as much as by name, I suppose, saving only to their next neighbours and borderers. They that in this land be attainted and convict of felony, make restitution of that which they stole to the right owner: and not (as they do in other lands) to the king: whom they think to have no more right to the thief-stolen thing, than the thief himself hath. But if the thing be lost or made away, then the value of it is paid of the goods of such offenders, which else remaineth all whole to their wives and children. And they themselves be condemned to be common labourers; and if the theft be not very heinous, they be neither locked in prison, nor fettered in gyves,* but be untied, and go at large, labouring in the common works. They that refuse labour, or go slowly or slack to their work, be not only tied in chains, but also pricked forward with stripes. But being diligent about their work, they live without check or rebuke. Every night they be called in by name, and be locked in their chambers. Beside their daily labour, their life is nothing hard or incommodious; their fare is indifferent good, borne at the charge of the weal-public ; because they be common servants to the common-wealth. But their charges in all places in the land is not borne alike; for, in some parts, that which is bestowed upon them is gathered of alms, and though that way be uncertain, yet the people be so full of mercy and pity, that none is found more * Fetters for the legs—“ The villains,” says Falstaff of his recruits, march wide bettvixt the legs, as if they had gyves on.” INTRODUCTION. 195 profitable or plentiful. In some places certain lands be appointed hereunto, of the revenues whereof they be maintained. And in some places every man giveth a certain tribute for the same use and purpose. Again, in some part of the land these serving-men (for so be these damned* persons called) do no common work ; but as every private man needeth labours, so he cometh into the market-place, and there hireth some of them for meat and drink, and certain limited wages by the day, somewhat cheaper than he should hire a freeman. It is also lawful for them to chastise the sloth of these serving-men with stripes. By these means they never lack work; and besides the gaining of their meat and drink, every one of them bringeth daily something into the common treasury. All and every one of them be ap¬ parelled in one colour. Their heads be not polled or shaven, but rounded a little above the ears ; and the tip of one ear is cut off. Every one of them may take meat and drink of their friends, and also a coat of their own colour; but to receive money is death, as well to the giver as to the receiver. And no less jeopardy it is for a free-man to receive money of a serving-man for any manner of cause ; and likewise for serving-men to touch weapons. The serving-men of every several shire be distinct and known from other, by their several and distinct badges ; which, to cast away, is death : as it is also to be seen out of the precinct of their own shire ; or to talk with a serving-man of another shire. And it is no less danger to them, for to intend to run away, than to do it in deed. Yea, and to conceal such an enterprize in a serving-man, it is death ; in a free-man, servitude. Of the contrary part, to him that * i. e. condemned. The word “ damnation ” is yet used in our Liturgy (Communion-service) for "condemnation..” 196 UTOPIA. openeth and uttereth such counsels, be decreed large gifts : to a free-man, a great sum of money ; to a serving-man, freedom ; and, to them both, forgiveness and pardon of that they were of counsel in that pretence. So that it can never be so good for them to go forward in their evil purpose, as by repentance to turn back. This is the law and order in this behalf, as I have shewed you : wherein what humanity is used, how far it is from cruelty, and how commodious it is, you do plainly perceive. For as much as the end of their wrath and punishment intendeth nothing else but the destruction of vices and saving of men : with so using and ordering them, that they cannot choose but be good ; and what harm soever they did before, in the residue of their life, to make amends for the same. Moreover, it is so little feared that they should turn again to their vicious conditions, that wayfaring men will for their safeguard choose them to be their guides before any other, in every shire changing and taking new: for if they would commit robbery, they have nothing about them meet for that purpose. They may touch no weapons: money found about them should betray the robbery. They should be no sooner taken with the manner, but forthwith they should be punished. Neither can they have any hope at all to escape away by flying: for how should a man, that in no part of his apparel is like other men, fly privily and unknown, unless he would run away naked ? How- beit, so also flying, he should be descried by the rounding of his head, and his ear-mark. But it is a thing to be doubted, that they will lay their heads together, and con¬ spire against the weal-public. No, no, I warrant you : for the serving-men of one shire alone could never hope to bring to pass such an enterprize, without soliciting, enticing, and alluring the serving-men of many other shires to take’ their parts. Which thing is to them so impossible, that INTRODUCTION. 197 they may not as much as speak or talk together, or salute one another. No, it is not to be thought that they would make their own countrymen and companions of their counsel in such a matter, which they know well should be jeopardy to the concealer thereof, and great commodity and goodness to the opener and detector of the same. Whereas, on the other part, there is none of them at all hopeless, or in despair to recover again his former estate of freedom, by humble obedience, by patient suffering, and by giving good tokens and likelihood of himself, that he will ever after that, live like a true and an honest man. For every year divers of them be restored to their freedom, through the commendation of their patience.” When I had thus spoken, saying moreover, that I could see no cause why this order might not be had in England, with much more profit, than the justice which the lawyer so highly praised. “ Nay (quoth the lawyer), this could never be so established in England, but that it must needs bring the weal-public into great jeopardy and hazard.” And as he was thus saying, he shaked his head, and made a wry mouth, and so he held his peace. And all that were present with one assent agreed to his saying. “ Well (quoth the Cardinal,) yet it were hard to judge without a proof, whether this order would do well here or no. But when the sentence of death is given, if then the king should com¬ mand execution to be deferred and spared, and would prove this order and fashion, taking away the privilege of sanctu¬ aries : if then the proof should declare the thing to be good and profitable, then it were well done that it were estab¬ lished : else, the condemned and reprieved persons may as well and justly be put to death after this proof, as when they were first cast. Neither any jeopardy can in the mean space grow hereof. Yea, and me thinketh that these vagabonds may very well be ordered after the same 198 UTOPIA. fashion, against whom we have hitherto made so many laws, and so little prevailed.” When the Cardinal had thus said, then every man gave great praise to my sayings which, a little before, they had disallowed. But most of all was that esteemed which was spoken of vagabonds, because it was the Cardinal’s addition.* I cannot tell whether it were best to rehearse the com¬ munication that followed ; for it was very strange. But yet you shall hear it, for there was no evil in it, and partly it pertained to the matter before said. There chanced to stand by a certain jesting parasite or scoffer, which would seem to resemble and counterfeit the Fool .f But he did in such wise counterfeit, that he was almost the very same indeed that he laboured to represent: he so studied with words and sayings, brought forth so out of time and place, to make sport and move laughter, that he himself was oftener laughed at than his jests were. Yet the foolish fellow brought out now and then such indifferent and reasonable It is impossible for a man to have lived much in the world, and not to see the justness of this satire. It is as old as the days of Solomon ; and it is probable it will never be extinguished, whilst mankind have the same passions of avarice and ambition ; and find that flattery and obsequiousness are the most likely means to procure their gratification.—As to the observation itself, it is as true now as it was then ; that, notwithstanding all our laws, we have not been able to attain our end against vagabonds; and they still continue to be a grievous nuisance, as well in the streets of London, as on the road.”— Warner. Dr. Warnei s remark still holds good, although it was written fifty [now 120] years ago. In spite of our Houses of Industry and Parish k c 100 ^ beggary, idleness, and profligacy are yet very abundant, but let us “ hope better things.” We are still in an improved condition compared with Spain ; where the traveller is sure to find, at every rest¬ ing-place on the road, a swarm of mendicants who assail his ears with piteous exclamations, themselves covered with filth, and devoured by disease ! J • b T he ;? der need not be told ’ 1 suppose, that it was the custom in England formerly for all men of fashion and fortune to keep a INTRODUCTION. 199 stuff, that he made the proverb true, which saith, “ He that shooteth oft , at the last shall hit the mark : ” so that when one of the company said, that through my communication, a good order was found for thieves, and that the Cardinal also had well provided for vagabonds—so that there only remained some good provision to be made for them that, through sickness and age, were fallen into poverty, and were become so impotent and unwieldy, that they were not able to work for their living—-“Tush, (quoth he), let me servant in their families, under the name and appearance of a fool.* This fictitious conversation between the friar and the Archbishop’s fool, in which the ill behaviour and the great ignorance of the former is so much exposed, was in those times so indecent and offensive, that in an edition of Sir Thomas More’s works, published at Louvain in 1566, this whole passage is left out. It shews us however the con¬ tempt which the author had for these people in that superstitious age; and that he had sagacity enough to discern, through all the prejudices of education, that they were a public nuisance.”— Warner. * More himself kept his fool. On the resignation of the chancellorship, “ his foole Patison he gaue to the Lo. Mayor of London, upon this condition, that he should euerie yeare wayte upon him that should haue that office.” Great Grandson’s Life of More, 4to. ed. 246. Fools seem to have acted very important parts both in private houses, and on the stage, during the sixteenth century. I need not remind the reader what a prominent feature they make in the dramatic productions of our immortal Shakespeare. “ Shakspeare’s fools are certainly copied from life. The originals whom he copied were no doubt men of quick parts : lively and sarcastick. Though they were licensed to say any thing, it was still necessary, to prevent giving offence, that every thing they said should have a playful air: we may suppose therefore that they had a custom of taking off the edge of too sharp a speech by covering it hastily with the end of an old song, or any glib nonsense that came to the mind. I know no other way of accounting for the incoherent words with which Shakespeare often finishes his fools’ speeches.” Sir Joshua Reynolds; cited in the edit, of Shaksp. 1803. vol. xvii. 365. Con¬ sult the entire note, which is curious enough ; though a great deal more might have been said on the “ Origin, prevalence, and decline of fools ” in the capacity above alluded to. As an illustration of the person of the fool, in the reign of Henry the VIII. when More wrote his Utopia, the curious reader should view an original picture of Henry and his family, with a fool, and an ape on his back—hanging up in the great room of the Society of Antiquaries, at Somerset House, which was presented by his Majesty. 200 UTOPIA. alone with them : you shall see me do well enough with them. For I had rather than any good, that this kind of people were driven somewhere out of my sight ; they have so sore troubled me many times and oft, when they have with their lamentable tears begged money of me i and yet they could never to my mind so tune their song, that thereby they ever got of me one farthing. For evermore the one of these chanced—either that I would not, or else that I could not, because I had it not. Therefore now they be waxed wise . for when they see me go by, because they will not lose their labour, they let me pass and say not one word to me. So they look, for nothing of me : no, in good sooth, no more than if I were a priest or a monk ! But I will make a law that all these beggars shall be distributed and bestowed into houses of religion. The men shall be made lay-brethren, as they call them—and the women nuns.” Hereat the Cardinal smiled, and allowed it in jest, yea, and all the residue in good earnest. But a certain friar, graduate in divinity, took such plea¬ sure and delight in these jests of priests and monks, that he also (being else a man of grisly and stern gravity) began merrily and wantonly to jest and taunt. “ Nay,” (quoth he), you shall not be so rid and dispatched of beggars, unless you make some provision also for us friars.”— Wh y> (quoth the jester), “that is done already, for my lord himself set a very good order for you, when he de¬ creed, that vagabonds should be kept straight and set to work.: for you be the greatest and veriest vagabonds that be.”* This jest also, when they saw the Cardinal not disprove it, every man took it gladly, saving only the friar: tHere .If °?f partof , the Ut ° pia more than another, which seems to satyris e the Roman church, it is this—where the priests are so severely handled by the jester, or fool : but it appears strange and rather inconsistent with the usual delicacy and gratitude observed by INTRODUCTION. 201 for he (and that no marvel) being thus touched on the quick, and hit on the gall, so fretted, so fumed, and chafed at it, and was in such a rage, that he could not refrain himself from chiding, scolding, railing, and reviling. He called the fellow ribbald, villain, javel,* backbiter, slanderer, and the child of perdition, citing therewith terrible threat- enings out of Holy Scripture. Then the jesting scoffer began to play the scoffer indeed, and verily he was good at that ; for he could play a part in that play, no man better. “ Patient yourself, good master friar (quoth he), and be not angry; for Scripture saith : ‘ In your patience you shall save your souls.’ ” Then the friar, (for I will rehearse his own very words :) “ No, gallows wretch, I am not angry (quoth he), or at the least wise I do not sin, for the Psalmist saith : ‘ Be you angry and sin not.’ ” Then the Cardinal spake gently to the friar, and desired him to quiet himself. “No my Lord, (quoth he), I speak not but of a good zeal, as I ought, for holy men had a good zeal: wherefore it is said, ‘ The zeal of thy house hath eaten me.’ And it is sung in church, ‘The scorners of Helizeus ,T whiles he went up into the house of God, felt the zeal of the bald, as peradventure, this scorning villain ribbald shall feel.’” “You do it (quoth the Car¬ dinal), perchance of a good mind and affection : but me thinketh you should do, I cannot tell whether more holily, certes more wisely, if you would not set your wit to a fool’s wit, and with a fool take in hand.a foolish conten¬ tion.” “No, forsooth, my lord (quoth he), I should not do More towards his benefactors, that he should have this end in view when he introduces the discourse at the table of the Cardinal, who was a Catholic, and his best friend ! It must, however, here be noted, that the above passage occurs in all the separate editions of the Utopia. * A dirty fcl low : a •vagrant . t Elisha. 202 UTOPIA. more wisely ; for Solomon the wise saith, ‘ Answer a fool according to his folly,’ like as I do now, and do shew him the pit that he shall fall into, if he take not heed: for if many scorners of Helizeus> which was but one bald man, felt the zeal of the bald, how much more shall one scorner of many friars feel, among whom be many bald men ? And we have also the Pope’s bulls, whereby all that mock and scorn us be excommunicated, suspended, and accursed.” * The Cardinal seeing no end would be made, sent away the jester by a privy beck, and turned the communication to another matter. Shortly after, when he was risen from the table, he went to hear his suitors, and so dismissed us.*f* Look, Master More, with how long and tedious a tale I have kept you, which surely I would have been ashamed to have done, but that you so earnestly desired me, and did * “ Cardinalis, ubi vidit nullum fieri finem, nutu ablegato parasito, ac aliam in rem commodum verso sermone, paulo post surgit e mensa, atque audiendis clientum negotiis dedit se, nosque dimisit.” “ When the Cardinal saw that there was no end of this matter, he made a sign to the fool to withdraw, turned the discourse another way, and soon after rose from the table, and dismissing us, went to hear causes.” So Burnet and Warner; but inelegantly: “ turned the discourse another way,” is a vulgar anglicism. It should have been, “gave a different turn (or direction) to the discourse.” “ Le Cardinal, voiant que cela ne, finiroit point, fit signe a l’ecornifleur de se retirer, et changea prudemment le sujet de la conversation. Peu de terns apres, s’etant leve de table pour donner audience a ses vassaux, il nous congedia”—French translation, 1730; which is elegant, and sufficiently close. f Here ends the conversation at the Cardinal’s table : the re¬ mainder of this first book is devoted to the observations of More and Hythloday upon it. Burnet and Warner contiuue in the following manner: “ Thus, Mr. More, I have run out into a tedious story, &c.” which has rather a ludicrous air, “ Master More ” has something in it more respectable ” “ J’ai enfin acheve, mon cher Morus, cette longue narration ”—says the French translation, which is polite enough. The original is brief but expressive. “ En, mi More, quam longo te sermone oneravi.” “ Mr. More” sounds as bad as Mr. Shakspeare, or Mr. Milton. INTRODUCTION. 203 after such a sort give ear unto it, as though you would not that any parcel of that communication should be left out. Which though I have done somewhat briefly, yet could I not choose but rehearse it, for the judgment of them, who, when they had improved and disallowed my sayings, yet incontinent hearing the Cardinal allow them, did them¬ selves also approve the same : so impudently flattering him, that they were nothing ashamed to admit, yea, almost in good earnest, his jester’s foolish inventions ; because that he himself, by smiling at them, did seem not to dis¬ prove them ! So that hereby you may right-well perceive how little the courtiers would regard and esteem me and my sayings. “ I ensure you, Master Raphael (quoth I), I took great delectation in hearing you : all things that you said were spoken so wittily and so pleasantly. And methought me self to be in the mean time, not only at home in my country, but also, through the pleasant remembrance of the Cardinal, in whose house I was brought up of a child, to wax a child again. And, friend Raphael , though I did bear very great love towards you before, yet seeing you do so earnestly favour this man, you will not believe how much my love towards you is now increased. But yet, all this notwithstanding, I can by no means change my mind, but that I must needs believe, that you, if you be disposed, and can find in your heart to follow some prince’s court,* * “ If you could overcome that aversion which you have to the courts of princes,” in Burnet and Warner. It was very much the fashion in More’s time, but particularly towards the middle and conclusion of the sixteenth century, to repro¬ bate the extravagances of Court, and the vices of Courtiers. I have understood that among the severest works which treat on this subject, (although Roy’s Satire upon Cardinal Wolsey has never perhaps been exceeded in satirical severity,) there is a small book written by one Peter Boiastuau, a Frenchman, called “ The Politike Glasse,” and printed about the year 1560. This I have never seen ; but in 204 UTOPIA. shall with your good counsels greatly help and further the common-wealth. Wherefore there is nothing more apper¬ taining to your duty, that is to say to the duty of a good man. For whereas your Plato judgeth that weal-publics shall by this means attain perfect felicity, either if philo¬ sophers be kings, or else if kings give themselves to the another work, by the same writer, the vices of courtiers are thus severely lashed. “ Many in the court, says he, pull off their caps to thee, that would be glad to see thy head from thy shoulders; such bowe their knee to doe thee reverence, which woulde that they had broken their leg to carry thee to thy grave. There is always I know not what, nor I know not how, nor I understand not who is the cause, that, incessantly one complayneth, another murmureth, altereth, and some despiseth. In the court, if thou wilt be an adulterer, thou shalt find of thy accomplices; if thou wilt quarrel, thou shalt find with whom ; if thou wilt lye, thou shalt find those that will approve thy lyes ; if thou wilt steale, thou shake finde them that will shew thee a thousand wayes how ; if thou wilt be a carder or dicer, thou shalt finde them t at will cog and playe with thee; if thou wilt sweare and beare false witnesse, thou shalt finde there thy like; to be short, if thou wilt give thyselfe to all kinds of wickednesse and vices, thou shalt find there the very example givers. Heere may you see the life of a great number of my masters, the courtiers , which is no life but a lingering death. Here you may see wherein their youth is employed, which is no youth but a transitory death. When that they come to age nowest thou what they bring from thence : their graye heades, their eete full of goutes, their mouth toothlesse, their backe full of paine their hearts full of sorrowes and thoughtes, and their soule filled with TnH ^7 We ai l referred by the author to the treatises of Guevara d ^neas Silvius—« wherein (says he) they have painted my masters the courtiers , so in their colours, that they have cut off the ope o a ing, in those that will discover any thing after them ” T* Ve r/r C , U j 10 o S and mre Httle book ’ called > “ The Theatre or Rule Frlnrh ° d \ & c - translat ed by John Alday from the Latin and fest for loh W- t.° laSt T'” Printedin black letter, by Thomas Eas for John Wight, 1581. In the second book of the Utopia, I shall have occasion to notice it more particularly , A" Englishma ". wbo reads the foregoing account, must congratu- noints of 7 C °T ry ‘r ‘ T COUrt n ° W differs ’ in 50 man Y ma terial points of descr.pt.on from the narrative of Boiastuau. So justly has ^uTT a T Page that “ from THE HEAD > “ front a per- good IrCTl ” r,ng ’ “ am ° ng thC Pe ° p,e the flood of aI ‘ that is INTRODUCTION. 205 study of philosophy ; how far, I pray you, shall common¬ wealths then be from this felicity, if philosophers will vouchsafe to instruct kings with their good counsel ?” “ They be not so unkind (quoth he), but they would gladly do it; yea, many have done it already in books that they have put forth, if kings and princes would be willing and ready to follow good counsel. But Plato doubtless did well foresee, unless kings them¬ selves would apply their minds to the study of philosophy, that else they would never thoroughly allow the counsel of philosophers, being themselves before, even from their tender age, infected, and corrupt with perverse and evil opinions, which thing Plato himself proved true in King Dionysius. If I should propose to any king wholesome decrees, doing my endeavour to pluck out of his mind the pernicious original causes of vice and naughtiness, think you not that I should forthwith either be driven away, or else made a laughing-stock ? Well, suppose I were with the French * king, and there sitting in his council ; while in that most secret consultation, the king himself there being present in his own person, they beat their brains, and search the very bottoms of their wits, to discuss by what craft and means the king may still keep Milan* and draw * The immediately following passages have been considered as a representation of the sentiments of More on the then state of European politics, or rather, as a sort of representation of facts. The whole is very curious ; in the first place, it shews at what period More was engaged in writing the Utopia; and next, how intimately he was acquainted with the views of the French king, as well as of the other European states : it is also curious from its simi¬ larity to the relation of the events here alluded to by a contemporary writer, Guicciardini, in his “ Storia d’ Italia ,” lib. 12. sub. an. 1513» where all the circumstances mentioned by More are to be found, and, in. one or two instances, in nearly corresponding terms. * The retention of Milan was a favourite political scheme, or hobby¬ horse, with Francis I. : but at the battle of Pavia he lost it, and every thing—“but his honour.” 20 6 UTOPIA. to him again fugitive Naples: and then how to conquer the Venetians, and how to bring under his jurisdiction all Italy; then how to win the dominion of Flanders Brabant and all Burgundy; with divers other lands, whose king¬ doms he hath long ago in mind and purpose invaded. Here, while one counselled to conclude a league of peace with the Venetians , so long to endure as shall be thought meet and expedient for their purpose, and to make them also of their council; yea, and besides that, to give them part of the prey, which afterward, when they have brought their purpose about, after their own minds, they may require and claim again—another thinketh best to hire the Germans: another would have the favour of the Switzers won with money: another’s advice is, to appease the puissant power of the Emperor’s majesty with gold, as with a most pleasant and acceptable sacrifice: while an¬ other giveth counsel to make peace with the king of An agon, and to restore unto him his own kingdom of Navarre, as a full assurance of peace ; another cometh in with his five eggs,* and adviseth to hook in the king of Castde, with, some hope of affinity, or alliance ; and to ring to their part certain peers of his court, for great pensions, While they all stay at the chiefest doubt of all, what to do in the mean time with England; and yet agree all in this, to make with the Englishmen-— and with most sure and strong bonds to bind that weak and feeble friendship, his*fivee h ^s fi ” S ;V" n f a ! i0n ° f R ° binSOn hasit * but “coming in with Latin oHn an g T US; n ° Such ex P ression being in the original alU ?«,?’ , y m0de T n translat *on. The above has probably some allusion to a custom which then nrevoilorl u- u ^ ^ i u tu , ; prevailed, but which cannot now be ascertained, whether, substituting- “egg-s” for “ ” /c ^r U Wime t r>s 0 Ta t , h e! S a S c U l bi r t s : n f ^ l8 °3- voTix* paltry su isidy or ** [“ with iheli five eg^>En.] INTRODUCTION. 207 so that they must be called friends, and had in suspicion as enemies. And that therefore the Scots must be had in readiness, as it were in a standing, reg.dy at all occasions (in case the Englishmen should stir never so little) inconti¬ nent to set upon them. And moreover, privily and secretly (for openly it may not be done, by the truce that is taken ;) privily therefore, I say, to make much of some peer * of England, that is banished his country, which must claim title to the crown of the realm, and affirm himself just inheritor thereof: that by this subtle means they may hold to them the king, in whom else they have but small trust and affiance. Here, I say, where so great and high matters be in con¬ sultation, where so many noble and wise men counsel their king only to war: here if I, silly man, should rise up, and will them to turn over the leaf, and learn a new lesson, saying, that my counsel is not to meddle with Italy, but to tarry still at home ; and that the kingdom of France alone is almost greater than that it may well be governed of one man ; so that the king should not need to study how to get more : and then should propose unto them the decrees of the people that be called the Achoreins , which be situate over against the island of Utopia, on the south¬ east side.- [These Achoreins once made war, in their king’s quarrel, for to get him another kingdom which he laid claim unto, * There cannot be a doubt, I think, but that More here alludes to Richard de la Pole, fifth son of John de la Pole Duke of Suffolk, by Elizabeth, sister of Edward IV. Among other reasons urged by Wolsey to induce Henry to invade France, one was that Francis had broken the treaty by favouring this nobleman, a “fugitive and a traitor.” Guicciardini calls him Duke j his words on this occasion are,—“ Haveva il Re [di Francia], per insospettire delle proprie cose il Re d’ Inghilterra, chiamato in Francia il Duca di Suffolch, come competitore a quel regvoE (La Hist, d’ Ital. cap. 12. fol. ed. 1561.) 20 8 UTOPIA. and advanced himself right inheritor to the crown thereof, by the title of an old alliance. At the last, when they had gotten it, and saw that they had even as much vexation and trouble in keeping it, as they had in getting it • and that either their new conquered subjects by sundry occa¬ sions were making daily insurrections to rebel against them, or else that other countries were continually with divers inroads and foragings invading them ; so that they were ever fighting, either for them or against them, and never could break up their camps : seeing themselves in the mean season pilfered and impoverished, their money carried out of the realm, their own men killed, to maintain the glory of another nation : when they had no war, peace was nothing better than war, by reason that their people in war had so inured themselves to corrupt and wicked manners, that they had taken a delight and pleasure in ro mg and stealing; that through manslaughter, they had gathered boldness to mischief; that their laws were had in contempt, and nothing set by or regarded; that their king being troubled with the charge and governance O wo mgdoms, could not, nor was not able perfectly to ischarge h,s office toward them both: seeing again, that these evils and troubles were endless-at the last, they aid their heads together, and like faithful and loving subjects gave to their king free choice and liberty to keep s 11 the one of these two kingdoms, whether he would; a e ging that he was not'able to keep both, and that they were more than might well be governed of half a king for as much as no man would be content to take him for’ his u e eer, t at keepeth another man’s mules besides his. So this good prince was constrained to be content with his ingdom, and to give over the new to one of his friends who shortly after was violently driven out.] Furthermore, if I should declare unto them, that all this INTRODUCTION. 209 busy preparance to war, whereby so many nations for his sake should be brought into a troublesome hurly-burly,* when all his coffers were emptied, his treasures wasted, and his people destroyed—should at the length, through some mischance, be in vain, and to none effect ; and that there¬ fore it were best for him to content himself with his own kingdom of France , as his forefathers and predecessors did before him ; to make much of it, to enrich it, and to make it as flourishing as he could ; to endeavour himself to love his subjects, and again to be beloved of them ; willingly to live with them peaceably to govern them, and with other kingdoms not to meddle, seeing that which he hath already is even enough for him, yea, and more than he can well turn him to. This mine advice, Master More, how think you, would it not be hardly taken ? ” “ So God help me, not very thankfully” (quoth I). “Well let us proceed then (quoth he). Suppose that some king and his counsel were to¬ gether, whetting their wits, and devising what subtle craft * “ Quibus tot nationes ejus causa tumultuarentur; ” “ troublesome hurley-burley,” as Robinson’s translation has it. The editor of the edition of Shakspeare, 1803, vol. x. 13. quotes Henderson’s extract from Peacham’s Garden of Eloquence , 1577, in which this English expression is supposed to have first occurred : Mr. Todd, in his edition of Spenser, vol. vi. 70. (note,) seems to think (quere how correctly ?) the expression may have been a Scotish one; and he cites “ Adagia Scotica , or a collection of Scotch Proverbs, &c.” Lond. i2mo. 1668; “a book,” says he, “published indeed long after Shakespeare’^ time, but containing probably many old saius.” It is not necessary to give Mr. Todd’s extract, which very satisfactorily explains this expression as used by Shakespeare’s Scotish hag in Macbeth—it may be only worth while here to observe, that, Robin¬ son’s adoption of the term has escaped our lexicographers and com¬ mentators, and that the word was published twenty-six years before it appeared in Peacham. Dr. Johnson refers only to Shakspeare and Knolles.—[It occurs in Udall’s trans, of Apoph. Erasmus, 1542.] O 210 UTOPIA. they might invent to enrich the king with great treasures of money. First, one counselleth to raise and enhance the valuation of money, when the king must pay any ;* and again to call down the value of coin to less than it is worth, when he must leceive or gather any: for thus, great sums shall be paid with a little money ; and where little is due, much shall be received. Another counselleth to fain war : that when, under this colour and pretence, the king hath gathered great abun¬ dance of money, he may, when it shall please him, make peace with great solemnity, and holy ceremonies, to blind the eyes of the poor community ; as taking pity and com¬ passion, forsooth, upon man’s blood, like a loving and a merciful prince! Another putteth the king in remembrance of certain old and moth-eaten f laws, that of long time have not been put in execution, which, because no man can remember that they were made, every man hath transgressed. The If the Utopia had ever been translated into Arabic or Persian, one might have said that the late Tippoo Sultan had profited by the first part of this advice It was a common practice with him, when a out to pay the arrears of his troops, to raise the standard value of the coin to a high rate, which continued about ten days—durino- this time the soldiers had liberty to pay off their debts, at the enhanced rate, bee Dr. Buchanan’s Journal of a Journey from Madras, &c. i ^ ^ nt |fi uas quasdam et tineis adesas leges ” : “ some old musty aws, that have been antiquated by a long disuse.” So Burnet and . a ™f r; but more verbose and paraphrastic than the above. There is a fine allusion, in the reply of Lord Strafford, to the folly and wic edness of enforcing “old and moth-eaten laws : ” that nobleman XC aiaie ^, when hls Prosecutors alleged against him certain evidence, supported by ancient laws of which he was entirely ignorant-" Let nLTnf m L L ° rd Y Wa u e u thOSe slee P' in S Hons, by rattling up a com- P 7 ° d ^ eCOrds ’ whlch have lam for so many ages by the wall, rgotten and neglected !”—Hume’s History of England. INTRODUCTION. 21 I fines of these laws he counselleth the king to require ; for there is no way so profitable, nor more honourable, as that which hath a shew and colour of justice. Another adviseth him to forbid many things under great penalties and fines, especially such things as is for the people’s profit not to be used ; and afterward to dispense for money with them which by this prohibition sustain loss and damage; for by this means the favour of the people is won, and profit riseth two ways : first, by taking forfeits of them, whom covetousness of gains hath brought in dan¬ ger of this statute; and also by selling privileges and licenses, which, the better that the prince is, forsooth, the dearer he selleth them ; as one that is loath to grant to any private person any thing that is against the profit of his people ; and therefore may set none but at an exceeding dear price. Another giveth the king counsel to endanger unto his grace the judges of the realm, that he may ever have them on his side, and that they may, in every matter, dispute and reason for the king’s right. Yea, and further to call them into his palace, and to require them there to argue and discuss his matters in his own presence : so there shall be no matter of his so openly wrong and unjust, wherein one or other of them—either because he will have something to allege and object, or that he is ashamed to say that which is said already, or else to * pick a thank * So the first English translation. “ To pick a thank,” is, I sup¬ pose, the same kind of idiom as “ to pick a quarrel ”—to choose, to select—to obtain one. Burnet translates it “to make their court.” In the original, it is “gratiam ineant.” The meaning of the substantive “a pick-thank ” is, an officious person who endeavours to ingratiate himself with, or obtain the notice of, any one, by the performance of unasked favours or offices in short, a busy-body. It is yet in common use in some of the more northern counties. 212 UTOPIA. with his prince—will not find some hole open to set a snare in, wherewith to take the contrary part in a trip. Thus while the judges cannot agree amongst themselves, reasoning and arguing of that which is plain enough, and bringing the manifest truth in doubt ; in the mean season, the king may take a fit occasion to understand the law as shall most make for his advantage, whereunto all other, for shame, or for fear, will agree. Then the judges may be bold to pronounce on the king’s side : for he that giveth sentence for the king, cannot be without a good excuse. For it shall be sufficient for him to have equity on his part, or the bare words of the law, or a writhen * and wrested understanding of the same (or else, which with good and just judges is of greater force than all laws be) the king’s indisputable prerogative. To conclude, all the counsellors agree and consent together with the rich Crassus , that no abundance of gold can be sufficient for a prince, which must keep and maintain an army : furthermore that a king, though he would, can do nothing unjustly.*)' For all that men have, yea, also the men themselves, be all his. And that every man hath so much of his own as the king’s gentleness hath not taken from him. And that it shall be most for the king’s advantage, that his subjects have very little or nothing in their possession, J as whose * Distorted twisted together : from the verb to writhe. The above word is used by Chaucer in his “ Flower and Leaf/’ v. 57. f Every body knows it is a maxim in our law that “ the King can do no wrong.” His Ministers only are supposed to be culpable for the bad advice given to their monarch. Old Plowden tells us that “ the prerogative of the Crown extends not to do any injury; it is created for the benefit of the people, and therefore cannot be exerted to their prejudice, p. 487, quoted by Blackstone, book 1. ch. 7. + “ ls im P°ssible for any one to have read the history of Henry VII. and not to see that this representation of the advice of ministers, is levelled at the infamous measures of getting money from the subject, which were pursued in that reign. At the same time that INTRODUCTION. safeguard doth herein consist, that his people do not wax wanton and wealthy through riches and liberty; because where these things be, there, men be not wont patiently to obey hard, unjust, and unlawful commandments. Whereas, on the other part, need and poverty doth hold down and keep under stout * courages, and maketh them patient perforce, taking from them bold and rebelling stomachs. Here again if I should rise up, and boldly affim, that all these counsels be to the king dishonour and reproach, whose honour and safety is more and rather supported and the author shewed his abhorrence of those unjust and arbitrary impo¬ sitions, he gave an evident proof of his own capacity to assist in the cabinets of princes, by the counsels which he proposes of another sort immediately after. When the reader is told that Henry left near two millions sterling in his vaults at Richmond when he died, there will be no occasion to add the injustice he did the nation, nor the miseries he brought upon them by this injustice, in draining them of their wealth, and then locking it up from circulating in commerce, in his own coffers.”— Warner. * This is the keenest part of More’s satire against Henry VII, whose avarice was as insatiable as his means of gratifying it were base and revengeful. Our author had not forgotten the treatment which his father. Sir John More experienced. The story is thus related by Hoddesdon. “ In the latter end of king Henry VII. his reign, a parliament was called; wherein Sir Thomas More, ere ever he had read in court, was chosen burgess : there was then demanded by the king, one subsidy and three fifteenths for the marriage of his eldest daughter, the Lady Margaret, that then should be (as indeed she was shortly after) the Queen of Scots; when the consent of the lower house was demanded to these impositions, most of the rest, either holding their peace, or not daring to speak against them, (though very unwilling to grant them,) Sir Thomas making a grave speech, argued so strongly why these exactions were not to be granted, that thereby the king’s demands were clean overthrown and his request denied : so that one Mr. Tyler of the king’s privy chamber being present thereat, went immediately from the house, and told his majesty that “ a beardless boy had frustrated all his expectations .” To be revenged upon More, “ the king devised a causeless quarrel against Sir John More, his father, keeping him in the Tower until he had made him pay a hundred pounds fine l” See J. H. Vita et Exitus Tho. More, p. 6, 7. 214 UTOPIA. upholden by the wealth and riches of his people, than by his own treasures—and if I should declare that the communalty chooseth their king for their own sake, and not for his sake, to the intent, that through his labour and study they might all live wealthy, safe from wrongs and injuries and that therefore the king ought to take more care for the wealth of his people, than for his own wealth even as the office and duty of a shepherd is, in that he is a shepherd, to feed his sheep rather than himself. For as touching this, that they think the defence and mainten¬ ance of peace to consist in poverty of the people, the thing itself sheweth that they be far out of the way—for where shall a man find more wrangling, quarrelling, brawling, and chiding, than among beggars ? who be more desirous of new mutations and alterations, than they that be not content with the present state of their life ? Or finally, who be bolder stomached to bring all in a hurly-burly * (thereby trusting to get some wind-fall) than they that have now nothing to lose ? And if any king were so smally regarded, and so lightly esteemed : yea, so be-hated of his subjects, that other ways he could not keep them in awe, but only by open wrongs, by polling and shaving, and by bunging them to beggary; surely, it were better for him to forsake his kingdom than to hold it by that means! whereby, though the name of a king be kept, yet the majesty is lost: for it is against the dignity of a king to have rule over beggars, but rather over rich and wealthy men. Of this mind was the hardy and courageous Fa- ncuis, when he said ; that he had rather be a ruler of rich men, than be rich himself i^ nd one man to in pleasure and wealth, while all other weep and smart for it, that is the part, not See p. 209, ante; and note thereupon. INTRODUCTION. 215 of a king, but of a jailer. To be short, as he is a foolish physician that cannot cure his patient’s disease, unless he cast him in another sickness ; so he that cannot amend the lives of his subjects, but by taking from them the wealth and commodity of life, he must needs grant, that he knoweth not the feat how to govern men. But let him rather amend his own life, renounce unhonest pleasures, and forsake pride: for these be the chief vices that cause him to run in the contempt or hatred of his people. Let him live of his own, hurting no man : let him do cost not above his power: let him restrain wickedness : let him prevent vices, and take away the occasions of offences by well ordering his subjects, and not by suffering wickedness to encrease, afterward to be punished : let him not be too hasty in calling again laws, which a custom hath abrogated ; especially such as have been long forgotten, and never lacked nor needed : and let him never, under the cloak and pretence of transgression, take such fines* and forfeits, as no judge will suffer a private person to take, as unjust and full of guile. Here if I should bring forth before them the law of the Macariens , which be not far distant from UTOPIA, whose king, the day of his coronation, is bound by a solemn oath that he shall never at any time have in his treasure above a thousand pound of gold or silver. They say, that a very good king, which took far more care for the wealth and commodity of his country, than for the enriching of himself, made this law to be a stop and bar to kings from heaping and hoarding up so much, money as might impoverish their people : for he foresaw that this sum of treasure would suffice to support the king in battle against his own people, * More here alludes pointedly to the treatment of his father by Henry VII. See p. 213, note. 216 UTOPIA. V if they should chance to rebel : and also to maintain his wars against the invasions of his foreign enemies. Again, he perceived the same stock of money to be too little and unsufficient to encourage and enable him wrongfully to take away other men’s goods : which was the chief cause why the law was made. Another cause was this. He thought that by this provision his people should not lack money, wherewith to maintain their daily occupying and chaffer.* And seeing the king could not choose but lay out and bestow all that came in above the prescript sum of his stock, he thought he would seek no occasions to do his subjects injury. Such a king shall be feared of evil men, and loved of good men. These, and such other informations, if I should use among men wholly inclined and given to ^the contrary part, how deaf hearers think you shall I have ?” y Deaf hearers, doubtless (quoth I): and in good faith no marvel. And to be plain with you, truly I cannot allow that such communication shall be used, or such counsel given, as you be sure shall never be regarded or received : for how can so strange information be profitable, or how can they be beaten into their heads, whose minds be already * It has been before observed that this word was used for mer- exampfesT ^ Y ^ S P encer > the following are the Clothes of gold, and satins riche of hewe. His chaff are was so thrifty and so newe. ’ Cant. Tales, v. 4555. Tyrw. edit. 8vo. vol. i. 178. My gold is youres, whan that it you leste And not only my gold, but my chaffare. Spencer uses it as a participle : Ibid. vol. i. 212. Where is thy fayre flocke thou was woont to lead ? Or bene they chafired, or at mischiefe dead ? , . . Shepherd’s Calender, Sept. v. 10. that is, given as ware in exchange. It is used in ih.'c c , author of “Pierce Ploughman/*™*. ^ by the INTRODUCTION. 217 prevented with clean contrary persuasions ? This school philosophy is not unpleasant among friends in familiar communication, but in the counsels of kings, where great matters be debated and reasoned with great authority, these things have no place.” “ That is it which I meant (quoth he), when I said philo¬ sophy had no place among kings.” “ Indeed (quoth I) this school philosophy hath not: which thinketh all things meet for every place. But there is another philosophy more civil, which knoweth, as ye would say, her own stage, and there¬ after ordering and behaving herself in the play that she hath in hand, playeth her part accordingly with comeliness, uttering nothing out of due order and fashion. And this is the philosophy that you must use. Or else, whiles a comedy of Plautus is playing, and the vile bond-men scoffing and trifling among themselves, if you should suddenly come upon the stage in a philosopher’s apparel, and rehearse out of Octavia the place wherein Seneca disputeth with Nero, had it not been better for you to have played the dumb person, than by rehearsing that, which served neither for the time nor place, to have made such a tragical comedy or gallimalfry ?* for by bringing in other stuff that nothing appertaineth to the matter, you must needs mar and pre¬ vent the play that is in hand, though the stuff that you bring be much better. What part soever you have taken upon you, play that as well as you can, and make the best of it; and do not therefore disturb and bring out of order the whole matter, because that another, which is merrier and better, cometh to your remembrance. * Cockeram, in his Dictionarie of hard words, i2mo. 1622, says a gallimaufry is “ a confused heap of things together .” In Shakespeare the word is thus used, “and they have a dance which the wenches say is a gallimaufry of gambols .” &c. Winter’s Tale. Grose, in his Dic¬ tionary of the vulgar tongue, calls it “ a hodge-podge made up of the remnants and scraps of the larder,” ed. 1785. 218 UTOPIA. So the case standeth in a common-wealth : and so it is in the consultations of kings and princes. If evil opinions and naughty persuasions cannot be utterly and quite plucked out of their hearts, if you cannot even as you would, remedy vices which use and custom have confirmed ; yet for this cause you must not leave and forsake the com¬ monwealth : you must not forsake the ship in a tempest, because you cannot rule and keep down the winds. No, nor you must not labour to drive into their heads new and strange informations, which you know well shall be nothing regarded with them that be of clean contrary minds. But you must with a crafty wile and subtile train study and endeavour yourself, as much as in you lieth, to handle the matter wittily and handsomely for the purpose, and that which you cannot turn to good, so to order it that it be not very bad : for it is not possible for all things to be well, unless all men were good; which I think will not be yet these good many years.” “ By this means (quoth he) nothing else will be brought to pass ; but while I go about to remedy the madness of others, I should be even as mad as they ; for if I should speak things that be true, I must needs speak such things : but as for to speak false things whether that be a philosopher’s part or no, I cannot tell j truly it is not my part. Howbeit this communication of mine, though peradventure it may seem unpleasant to them yet cannot I see why it should seem strange, or foolishly newfangled. If so be that I should speak those things that . LA l T ° falneth 111 h is weal-public, or that the Utopians do in theirs, these things though they were (as they be indeed) etter, yet they might seem spoken out of place. For as much as here amongst us, every man hath his possessions several to himself, and there all things be in common. But what was in my communication contained, that might not, and ought not in any place to be spoken ? Saving INTRODUCTION. 219 that to them which have thoroughly decreed and deter¬ mined with themselves to run headlong on the contrary way, it cannot be acceptable and pleasant, because it calleth them back, and sheweth them the jeopardies. Verily if all things that evil and vicious manners have caused to seem unconvenient and naught, should be refused as things unmeet and reproachful, then we must among Christian people wink at the most part of all those things which Christ taught us, and so straightly forbad them to be winked at, that those things also which he whispered in the ears of his disciples, he commanded to be proclaimed in open houses. And yet the most part of them is more dissident from the manners of the world now a days, than my communication was. But preachers, sly and wily men, following your counsel (as I suppose) because they saw men evil-willing to frame their manners to Christ’s* rule, they have wrested and wryed his doctrine ; and like a rule of lead have applied it to men’s manners : that by some means, at the least way, they might agree together. * Dr. Knight, in his life of Dean Colet, (p. 163. note m.) tells us that the first edition of the Utopia gave such a ridiculous view of the several orders of the church of Rome, that care was taken to expunge several passages relating thereunto. “Thus,” says he, “in page 56 he taxes the preachers of that age for corrupting the Christian doctrine and practising upon it; for they, observing that the world did not suit their lives to the rules of Christ, have fitted his doctrine as if it had been a leaden rule to their lives, that some way or other, they might agree with one another.” The part which Mr. Knight here alludes to, happens not to be at p. 56, but at p. 63, of the first edition ; and the above passage, which he supposes to have been softened or altered in subsequent editions, also happens to remain in its original state in every subsequent one. This shows the necessity of examination before decision, or before we take upon us to repeat the observations of others. It is clear that in this instance Mr. Knight never examined the editio princeps of Utopia. As to the above passage giving “ a ridiculous view of the several orders of the church of Rome ” in particular, the reader will probably agree with me that it is equally applicable to the church of Petersburg ! 220 UTOPIA. Whereby I cannot see what good they have done, but that men may more sickerly* be evil. And I truly should pre¬ vail even as little in kings councils : for either I must say otherwise than they say, and then I were as good to say nothing—or else I must say the same that they say, and (as Mitio saith in Terence) help to further their madness. For that crafty will and subtile train of yours, I cannot perceive to what purpose it serveth, wherewith you would have me to study and endeavour myself, if all things cannot be made good, yet to handle them wittily and handsomely for the purpose that, as far forth as is possible, they may not be very evil: for there is no place to dissemble in, nor to work in. Naughty counsels must be openly allowed, and very pestilent decrees must be approved. He shall be counted worse than a spy, yea, almost as evil as a traitor, that with a faint heart doth praise evil and noisome decrees. Moreover, a man can have no occasion to do good, chancing into the company of them which will sooner pervert a good man.f than be made good them¬ selves : through whose evil company he shall be marred, or else if he remained good and innocent, yet the wickedness and folly of others shall be imputed to him, and laid in his neck. So that it is impossible with that crafty wile, and subtle train, to turn any thing to better. Wherefore PLATO by a goodly similitude, declareth why wise men refrain to’ meddle in the commonwealth : for when they see the people swarm into the streets, and daily wet to the skin with rain * Surely. wkhZ courts o n f 0t D rin ffiCiem t0 deter " g °° d man from mixi "S ™uch I . . P ces ’ we ma y add the testimony of the late lord 5** **• «• “ started up, and said, as to himself f mT— S ° me ^ com P an y’ asked, what it was [hat was Trebl e he rXd ,i for a minister to be an honest man 1 ’ "-Warnkr ' mp ° SS,ble INTRODUCTION. 221 and yet cannot persuade them to go out of the rain, and to take their house, knowing well that if they should go out to them, they should nothing prevail, nor win aught by it, but with them be wet also in the rain—they do keep them¬ selves within their houses, being content that they be safe themselves, seeing they cannot remedy the folly of the people. Howbeit, doubtless, Master More (to speak truly as my mind giveth me), where possessions be private, where money beareth all the stroke,* it is hard and almost impos¬ sible that there the weal-public may justly be governed, and prosperously flourish ; unless you think thus ; that justice is there executed, where all things come into the hands of evil men : or that prosperity there flourisheth, where all is divided among a few: which few nevertheless do not lead their lives very wealthily, and the residue live miserably, wretchedly, and beggarly. Wherefore, when I consider with myself, and weigh in my mind the wise and godly ordinances of the UTOPIANS ; among whom, with very few laws all things be so well and wealthily ordered, that virtue is had in price and estimation, and yet all things being there common, every man hath abundance of every thing. Again, on the other part, when I compare with them so many nations ever making new laws, yet none of them all well and sufficiently furnished with laws : where every man calleth that he hath gotten his own proper and private goods ; where so many new laws daily made, be not sufficient for every man to enjoy, defend, and know from another man’s that which he calleth his * “ Ubi omnes omnia pecuniis metiuntur .” —“ While money is the standard of all other things ” say Burnet and Warner. I have con¬ sulted the glossaries of our best etymologists, but cannot discover any passage in which the word “stroke” is used as above. I suppose it to be analogous to such a thing or such an one bearing the bell: having the chief poiucr or pre-eminence. 222 UTOPIA. own : which thing, the infinite controversies in the law that daily rise never to be ended, plainly declare to be true— these things (I say) when I consider with myself, I hold well with PLATO, and do nothing marvel that he would make no laws for them that refused those laws, whereby all men should have and enjoy equal portions of wealth and commodities. For the wise man did easily foresee this to be the one and only way to the wealth of a commonalty, if equality of all things should be brought in and established ; which I think is not possible to be observed,* where every man’s goods be proper and peculiar to himself: for where every man under certain titles and pretences draweth and plucketh to himself as much as he can ; so that a few divide among themselves all the whole riches, be there never so much abundance and store—there, to the residue is left lack and poverty. And for the most part it chanceth, that this latter sort is more worthy to enjoy that state of wealth than the other be: because the rich men be covetous, crafty, and unprofit¬ able ; on the other part, the poor be lowly, simple, and by their daily labour, more profitable to the commonwealth than to themselves. Thus, I do fully persuade myself, that no equal and just distribution of things can be made, nor that perfect wealth shall ever be among men, unless this propriety be exiled and banished. But so long as it shall continue, so long shall remain among the most and best part of men, the heavy and inevitable burthen of poverty * We all, I believe, think so nozv; though there was a period, and that not a far distant one, when Englishmen as well as Frenchmen shouted for “liberty and equality.”—It has so happened that the former retain that liberty which once they wished to have parted with, and that the latter, instead of equality, are now submissive beneath the sway of absolute monarchy. Such is the strange and melancholy fickleness of human nature ! [1808.] INTRODUCTION. 223 and wretchedness. Which, as I grant that it may be some¬ what eased, so I utterly deny that it can wholly be taken away: for if there were a statute made, that no man should have in his stock above a prescript and appointed sum of money : if it were by certain laws decreed, that neither the king should be of too great power, neither the people too haughty and wealthy; and that offices should not be obtained by inordinate suit, or by bribes and gifts : that they should neither be bought nor sold, nor that it should be needful for the officers to be at any cost or charge in their offices : (for so occasion is given to them, by fraud and ravin, to gather up their money again ; and by reason of gifts and bribes, the offices be given to rich men, which should rather have been executed of wise men :) by such laws I say, like as sick bodies that be desperate and past cure, be wont with continual good cherishing to be kept and botched up for a time—so these evils also may be lightened and mitigated. But that they may be perfectly cured, brought to a good and upright state, it is not to be hoped for whilst every man is master of his own to himself Yea, and whilst you go about to do your cure of one part, you shall make bigger the sore of another part; so the help of one causeth another’s harm : forasmuch, as nothing can be given to any one unless it be taken from another.” “ But I am of a contrary opinion (quoth I*) ; for me thinketh that men shall never there live wealthily, where all things be common : for how can there be abundance of goods, or of any thing, where every man withdraweth his hand from labour ? Whom the regard of his own gains driveth not to work, but the hope that he hath in other men’s travails makes him slothful. Then when they be pricked with poverty, and yet no * That is, More —who is now speaking in reply to Hytholodseus. 224 UTOPIA. man can by any law or right defend that for his own, which he hath gotten with the labour of his own hands, shall not there of necessity be continual sedition and bloodshed ? Specially the authority and reverence of magistrates being taken away—which, what place it may have with such men among whom is no difference, I cannot devise. I maivel not (quoth he) that you be of this opinion : for you conceive in your mind, either none at all, or else a very false image and similitude of this thing. But if you had been with me in Utopia,* and had presently seen their fashions and laws, as x did—which lived there five years and more, and would never have come thence, but only to make that new land known here—then, doubtless, you would grant that you never saw people well ordered, but only there. Surely (quoth Master Peter ) it shall be hard for you to make me believe that there is better order in that new land, than is here in the countries that we know. For good wits be as well here as there : and I think our common-wealths be ancienter than theirs ; wherein long use and experience hath found out many things commodious for man s life ; besides, that, many things here among us have been found by chance, which no wit could ever have devised. As touching the ancientness (quoth he) of common-wealths, then you might better judge if you had read the histories and chronicles of that land, which, if we may believe, cities were there before men were here ! Now what thing soever hitherto by wit hath been devised, * There is something very skilful in the frequent introduction of this word, before the commencement of the second book, which is a regular history of the laws and customs of the Utopians. By an apparently artless manner of referring to the Utopian laws, Hythlo- dseus excites the curiosity, and sharpens the appetite, of his hearers to become acquainted with them. At length, having wrought this curiosity to the highest pitch, he satisfies it by the recital which occupies the entire second book. INTRODUCTION. 225 or found by chance, that might be as well there as here. But I think verily, though it were so that we did pass them in wit, yet in study, in travel, and in laboursome endeavour, they far pass us : for (as their chronicles testify) before our arrival there, they never heard any thing of us, whom they call the Ultra-equinoctials: saying that once, about twelve hundred years ago, a certain ship was lost by the isle of UTOPIA, which was driven thither by tempest. Certain Romans and Egyptians were cast on land, which after that never went thence. Mark now what profit they took of this one occasion, through diligence and earnest travail! There was no craft nor science within the empire of Rome whereof any profit could rise, but they either learned it of those strangers, or else of them, taking occasion to search for it, found it out. So great profit was it to them that ever any went thither from hence. But if any like chance before this hath brought any man from thence hither, that is as quite out of remem¬ brance, as this also perchance, in time to come, shall be forgotten that ever I was there. And like as they quickly, almost at the first meeting, made their own, whatsoever is among us wealthily devised : so I suppose it would be long before we should receive any thing, that among them is better instituted than among us. And this I suppose is the chief cause why their common¬ wealths be wiselier governed, and do flourish in more wealth than ours, though we neither in wit nor riches be their inferiors. ^Therefore, gentle Master Raphael , (quoth I), I * “ Ergo, mi Raphael, inquam, quaeso te atque obsecro, describe nobis insulam : nec velis esse brevis, sed explices ordine agros, fluvios, urbes, homines, mores, instituta, leges, ac denique omnia, quae nos putes velle cognoscere : putabis autem velle quicquid adhuc nescimus. Nihil, inquit, faciam libentius : nam haec in promptu habeo, sed les otium poscit. Eamus ergo, inquam, intro pransum; mox tempus nostro arbitratu sumemus. Fiat, inquit. Ita ingressi, prandemus . P % 226 UTOPIA. pray you and beseech you describe unto us THE ISLAND. And study not to be short: but declare largely in order, * the grounds, the rivers, the cities, the people, the manners, the ordinances, the laws; and to be short, all things that you shall think us desirous to know. And you shall think us desirous to know whatsoever we know not yet.” “ There is nothing (quoth he) that I will do gladlier. For all these things I have fresh in mind : but the matter requireth leisure.” “ Let us go in therefore (quoth I) to dinner, and afterward we will bestow the time at our pleasure.” “ Content (quoth he) be it.” So we went in and dined. When dinner was done, we came into the same place again, and sat us down upon the same bench, commanding pransi, in eundem reversi locum, in eodem sedili consedimus : ac jussis ministris, ne quis interpellaret, ego, ac Petrus .Ttgidius hortamur Raphaelem, ut praestet quod erat pollicitus. Is ergo ubi nos vidit intentos atque avidos audiendi, quum paulisper tacitus et cogitabundus assedisset, hunc in modum exorsus est.” The following is the French translation, which is elegant and animated. “ Cela etant, m’ecriai-je, je vous prie, mon cher Raphael, je vous conjure, faites-nous la description de cette lie incomparable. Ne cherchez point a abreger votre matiere. Dites-nous par ordre et dans un detail exact, les campagnes, les fleuves, les villes, les habitans, les moeurs, les coutumes, les loix ; enfin, tout ce que vous croirez que nous serons bien aises d’apprendre. Or vous jugez bien que notre curiosite est affamee de tout ce que nous ignorons.” “ II n’est rien, repartit notre Philosophe, que je fasse plus volon- tiers : je possede assez le sujet : mais la chose demande un peu de relache; laissez moi, s’il vous plait, respirer. Cela est trop juste, repondis-je : allons done trouver le dine qui nous attend : nous pren- drons ensuite le terns qui nous sera le plus commode. J’y consens, dit Raphael. Nous entrons ; nous dinons; puis etant retournez au jardin, nous reprimes nos places sur le gason—les domestiques a'iant ordre de ne laisser entrer aucun facheux. Alors mon ami et moi prions Raphael de tenir parole. Lui, nous voiant des gens qui preparoient toute leur attention, et qui avoient grande envie d’ecouter, apres un peu de silence et de meditation, il debuta de cette maniere-ci.” INTRODUCTION. 227 our servants that no man should trouble us. Then I and Master Peter Giles , desired Master Raphael to perform his promise. He, therefore, seeing us desirous and willing to hearken to him—when he had sat still and paused a little while, musing and bethinking himself, thus he began to speak. (Cnli of tlje jficgt Book.* * “ The pleasing manner in which this first book, or part of the work is written, the felicity of the style, the elegance of the satire, the acuteness of the remarks on men and manners, the freedom and manliness of the opinions, would have raised it to distinction in any age; but in the rude and ignorant period when it appeared, justly entitled it to general admiration. “With so much skill and apparent simplicity are the dialogues and the narrative conducted, that several persons did not suspect that More had imposed upon them a work of his own fancy : some envious critics even went so far as to affirm, that, to their certain knowledge, Hythlodseus had not only furnished the materials of the narrative, but had actually dictated the whole from the beginning to end; while the scribbler, who now enjoyed all the reputation, had acted as a mere amanuensis. Some grave and zealous divines, on the other hand, strongly moved by the virtues of the Utopians, had actually deter¬ mined to embark in an attempt to achieve the good work of their conversion to Christianity.” Macdiarmid’s Lives of British Statesmen, 19, 21 f « • * 5-..S I * * “ «%. ' t ► , •* . . - - r Cl)e Commontuealtl) of Btopta, Boofe tf)e ^econD. L V CHAPTER I. £>f the 3l0lantJ anti inhabitants of Btopta, HE island of Utopia* containeth in breadth in the middle part of it (for there it is broadest) two hundred miles ; which breadth continueth through the most part of the land, saving that by little it cometh in, and waxeth narrower towards both the ends : which fetching about a circuit or compass of live hundred miles, do fashion the whole island like to the new moon :*)* between these two corners the sea runneth in, dividing them asunder by the distance of eleven miles or thereabouts, and there sur- mounteth into a large sea, which by reason that the land * The reader need hardly be informed that this is a Greek word, compounded of Ev twos, signifying, a happy place, a land of per¬ fection. Some have whimsically imagined it to be compounded of ov, roVos—no such, or not a place; meaning that it is purely fictitious. More has endeavoured to conceal the fiction by making the island named after king Utopus. See page 233. In the editio princeps of the Utopia, there is a wood cut of a bird’s- eye view of the island, with its cities, &c. which is sufficiently rude : this is copied, on a reduced scale, in the Basil edition of 1563. f “ Not unlike a crescent,” say the modern translators; “ in lunae speciem, cujus cornua,” &c, in the original. P 4 232 UTOPIA. on every side compasseth it about, and sheltereth it from the winds, is not rough, nor mounteth not with great waves, but almost floweth quietly, not much unlike a great standing pool ; and maketh well nigh all the space within the belly of the land in manner of a haven i and to the great commo¬ dity of the inhabitants, receiveth in ships towards every part of the land. The fore-fronts or frontiers of the two corners, what with boards and shelves, and what with rocks be ieo- pardous and dangerous. In the middle distance between tnem both, standeth up above the water a great rock, which therefore it is nothing perilous, because it is in sight. Upon the top of this rock is a fair and strong tower builded, which they hold with a garrison of men. Other rocks there be Jyiiig hid under the water, which therefore be dangerous. The channels be known only to themselve s. And therefore it seldom chanceth that any stranger, unless he be guided by an Utopian ,, can come into this haven. Insomuch that they themselves could scarcely enter wfthout jeopardy, but that their way is directed and ruled by certain land marks stand¬ ing on the shore. JBy turning, translating,f and removing the marks into other places, they may destroy their enemies navies, be they never so many. The outside or outer circuit of the land is also full of havens, but the landing is so surely fenced, what by nature and what by workmanship of men’s hands, that a few defenders may drive back many armies. Howbeit, as they say, and as the fashion of the place itself doth partly shew, it was not ever compassed about with the sea. But kin^ “ F auces hinc vadis, inde saxis formidolosae ”— in the original, which is concise and strong. “ Jeopardous,” used in the above trans¬ lation as an adjective, is of rather rare occurrence among our old authors. Johnson has confined his illustrations only to the substantive “jeopardy,” and in these he cites no authority earlier than Bacon. t This word is rarely used in the above sense; there is not, I believe, any example of it in Spenser or Shakspeare. UTOPIA. U l opus, whose name, as conqueror, the island beareth (for before this time it was called Abraxas hich also brought the rude and wild people to that excellent perfection in all good fashions, humanity, and civil gentleness, wherein they now go beyond all the people in the world)_even at his arriving and entering upon the land, forthwith obtaining the victory, caused fifteen miles space of uplandish ground, where the sea had no passage, to be cut and digged up • and so wrought the sea round about the land. He set to this work, not only the inhabitants of this island, (because t ley should not think it done in contumely and despite) but also all his own soldiers. Thus the work being divided into so great a number of workmen, was with exceeding marvellous speed dispatched. Insomuch, that the borderers'* which at the first began to mock, and to jest at the vain enterprise, then turned their derision to marvel at the success, and to fear. There be in the island fifty-four large and fair cities, or slure towns* agreeing altogether in one tongue, in like manners, institutions, and laws : they be all set and situate alike, and in all points fashioned alike, as far forth as the place or plot suffereth. Of these cities, they that be nighest together be twen ty-four miles asunder. Again, there is none of them distant from the next, above one days journey a-foot. There come yearly to Arnaurote , out of every city, three old men, wise and well experienced, there to entreat * The expression “shire towns ” is gratuitous in the translation.— More says only, “civitates, &c. spaciosas omnes ac magnificas.” 1 he word shire,” says Ley, “ is an ancient Saxon word, meaning to cut, sheer , or to divide; and the aspiration sh hath been brought in by the Normans, as in divers other the like words may be exempli- fied.” From the same authority we are told that the first division of this land into shires took place before or during the reign of Alfred. See Hearne s Antiquarian Discourses , vol. i. 29, 30. edit. 1775, and consult Hearne’s Preface, p. xlii. 234 UTOPIA. -1 L/A f « \A m vi and debate of the common matters of the land. For this city (because it standeth just in the midst of the island, and is therefore most meet for the ambassadors of all parts of the realm) is taken for the chief and head city. The pre¬ cincts and bounds of the shires be so commodiously pointed out, and set forth for the cities, that none of them all hath of any side less than twenty miles of ground, and of some side also much more, as of that part where the cities be of further distance asunder. None of the cities desire to en- large the bounds and limits of their shires. For they count themselves rather the good husbands, than the owners of their lands. They have in the country parts of the shire, houses or farms builded, well appointed and furnished with all sorts of instruments and tools belonging to hus¬ bandry. These houses be inhabited of the citizens, which come thither to dwell by course. No household or farm in the country hath fewer than fifty persons, men and women, besides two bondmen, which be all under the rule and order of the good man, and the good wife of the house, being both very sage, discreet, and ancient persons. And every thirty farms or families have one head ruler, which is called a Phylarchf being as it were a head bailiff; out of every one of these families or farms, cometh every year into the city, twenty persons, which have continued two years before in the country. In their place so man y fresh be sent thither out of the city, who of them that have been there a year already, and be therefore expert and cunning in husbandry, s !l§- instructed and taught. AncPthey the^next year shall teach each other. This order is used for fear that either scarceness of * “Phylarchus” in More; which Burnet translates, perhaps pro¬ perly enough, “ Magistrate.” In the French translation it is “ Direc- teur.” The original expression is Greek, and means “the head of a tribe ” (fivXy ap^ 09. 1 7 UTOPIA. 235 victuals, or some other like incommodity should chance, through lack of knowledge, if they should be altogether new, and fresh, and unexpert in husbandry. This mannei ^' 1 I Mb « 1W and fashion of yearly changing and renewing the occupiers of husbandry, though it be solemn and custornably used, to the intent that no man shall be constrained against Ms** will to continue long in that hard and'sharp kind of life, yet many of them have such a pleasure and delight in husbandry, that they obtain a longer space of years. These husbandmen plough and till the ground, and breed up cattle, and provide and make ready wood, which they carry to the city either by land or water, as they may most conveniently. They bring up a great multitude of pullein,* and that by a marvellous policy : for the hens do not sit upon the eggs ; but by keeping them in a certain equal heat they bring life into them, and hatch them. The chickens, as soon as they be come out of the shell, follow men and women instead o£. the hens. They bring up very few horses : nor none but very fierce ones, and that for none other use or purpose, but only to exercise their youth in riding, and feats of arms :*(* for oxen be put to all the labour of ploughing and * Poultry: the above word, of rare occurrence in English, is pro¬ bably a corruption of the Latin word pullus , or of the French poulet . f More seems here to have imitated the hardy institutions of the Persians, as described by Xenophon in the early part of his first book of the Cyropsedia.—The young men were trained up to the exercise of hunting; of boldly attacking, as well as successfully evading, the wild beasts of the chase, in order to prepare them for “feats of arms.” —on a\r) 6 (.(TTaT 7 ) Sokcl avrrj rj fxtXeTT) rwv IIPO^ TON IIOAEMON * » £LVCU. The practice of young men’s ridbig horses not only met with the commendation of Ascham, but the disuse of it, in Queen Elizabeth’s time, seems to have been seriously regretted by him, “ I do not write this,” says he (in his Schoolmaster ), “that I wolde dissuade yonge jentlemen from ryding; yea l am sorry, with all my harte, that they \ 236 UTOPIA. drawing :* which they grant not to be so good as horses at a sudden brunt, and (as we say) at a dead lift; but yet they hold an opinion that oxen will abide and suffer much more labour, pain, and hardiness than horses will ; and they be given no more to ryding than they be; for, of all outward quali¬ ties, to ride faire is most cumlie for himself, most necessarie for his countrie, &c.” p. 219, Bennet’s edit. The reader has already been made acquainted with the prin¬ cipal athletic Games of our ancestors at the period of More’s writing his Utopia. I shall now inform him of the principal Exercises of his countrymen during the same period. “ Strong or violent exer¬ cises (says Sir Thomas Elyot) “ be these ; delvyng, specially in tough clay and hevy; bearying or sustenyng of heavy burdens; climmyng or walkying against a stepe upright hyll; holdynge a rope and clim¬ myng up thereby; hangeyng by the hand, on any thyng above a man’s reach, that his feete touch not the ground; standyng and holdyng up or spreadyng the armes with the hands faste closed, and abidyng so a long tyme; wrestling also with the armes and legges; -all these kyndes of exercises, and other like them, do augment strength, and thereby they serve only for yong men which be inclined or be apt to the uuarres .” Swift exercise, without violence, is runnyng, plaiyng with weapons, tenyse, or throwing of the ball, trottyng a space of grounde forwarde and backwarde, goeyng on the toes, and holdyng up the handes—also swinging up and down his armes without plummettes—daunsyng o galyardes, throwying of the ball, football plaie, throwying of the long darte, runnyng in harneyse, and other lyke.” * ^usicn oj neitn, , .u*. 5 u. etui. 1541. 1 his, as every one knows, was the usual practice with the ancients, and the custom mayyet be seen in many antique fragments of sculpture. In Heresbachius s book of husbandry, which seems to have been the favourite agncu tural work of the sixteenth century (from the number of English translations that were made of it), the following instructions are g iv en to buy draught oxen. « Looke that they be gentili, skillfull in their labour, fearful of the goade and the driver, not dreading any water or bridge; great feeders, but softly, and not overhastily; for such doo best digest their meate.” See Barnabe Googe’s translation, fol. 128. ed. 1586, printed for John Wight. r ItVu 0 " 1 ° f P ! 0U f hing with ° xen P reva ils at the present day. [1 08.] The principal reason for employing them seems to be the c eapness of their purchase and keep, compared with that of horses, and their value to the owner, when the purposes of agriculture are accomplished, by selling them as the most nutritious of animal food i UTOPIA. 239 space of two miles, until it come to the river of Any dev. The length of it, which lieth by the river’s side, is some¬ what more. The river of Anyder riseth four and twenty miles above Amaurote out of a little spring : but being increased by other small rivers and brooks that run into it, and among other, two somewhat big ones ; before the city, it is half a mile broad, and further, broader. And forty miles beyond the city it falleth into the ocean* sea. By all that space that lieth between the sea and the city, and certain miles also above the city, the water ebbeth and floweth six hours together with a swift tide. When the sea floweth in, for the length of thirty miles it filleth all the A nyder with salt water, and driveth back the fresh water of the river. And somewhat further, it changeth the sweetness of the fresh water with the saltness. But a little beyond that the river waxeth sweet, and runneth fore by the city fresh / and pleasant. And when the sea ebbeth, and goeth back again, the fresh water followeth it almost even to the very fall of the sea. There goeth a bridge over the river, made not of piles or of timber, but of stonej* work, with gorgeous and substantial arches at that part of the city that is farthest from the sea : to the intent that ships may pass along fore by all the side of the city without let. They have also another river which indeed is not very great ; but it runneth gently and pleasantly: for it riseth even out of the same phrases, of which the above is a sufficient specimen—“ Figura quad¬ rata” is More’s language. The old translator meant that it had “ four sides in the fashion of a square.” * “ The ocean sea ” is precisely the “ mare oceanum ” of Caesar. Ocean, as an adjective, is used also by Milton ; “ ocean wave ” and “ ocean stream.” Dr. Johnson says that this is rather an obsolete mode of applying the word, though it is conformable to the original import of it. More simply says “excipitur oceano.” t In the margin of Alsop’s edition, it is said, “ Herein also doth London agree with Amaurote.” k 240 UTOPIA. hill that the city standeth upon, and runneth down a slope through the midst of the city into Anyder. And because it riseth a little without the city, the Amauritians have inclosed the head-spring of it with strong fences, and bulwarks, and so have joined it to t le city. & This is done to the intent that the water should not be stopped, nor turned away, or poisoned, if their enemies should chance to come upon them. From thence the water is derived and conveyed down in channels of brick, divers ways, into the lower parts of the city. Where that cannot be done, by reason that the place will not suffer it there they gather the rain water in great cisterns, which doth them as good service. The city is compassed about with a high and thick stone wall, full of turrets and bulwarks. A dry ditch, but deep and broad, and overgrown with bushes, briars, and thorns, goeth about three sides or quar¬ ters of the city. To the fourth side, the river itself serve* as a ditch. The Streets be appointed and set forth very commodious and handsome, both for carriage, and a so against the winds. The houses be of fair and gorgeous building, and on the street side they stand joined toge er in a long row through the whole street without any parti¬ tion or separation. The streets be twenty* foot broad On the back side of the "Rouses, through the whole leng the street, lie large gardens inclosed round about with the back part of the streets. Every house hath two doors, one into the street, and a postern door on the back side into the garden : these doors be made with two leav^t * More seems to have taken his idea of the proper width of a street from the confined scale on which most of the European t built in his time.—What would he have said to some of ou LO t nd It n is1ingular that all the translators should have adopted this expression, which is here almost unintelligible. “ Bifores aper i "More’s phrase; meaning simply that the doors are divided into two UTOPIA. 241 y never locked nor bolted ; so easy to be opened, that they will follow the least drawing of a finger, and shut again alone. Whoso will, may go in, for there is nothing within the houses that is private, or any man’s own. And every tenth year they change their houses by lot. \ "They set great store by their gardens. In them they have vineyards, all manner of fruit, herbs, and flowers, so pleasant, so well furnished, and so finely kept, that I never saw thing more fruitful, nor better trimmed in any place. Their study and diligence herein, cometh not only of plea¬ sure, but also of a certain strife and contention that is between street and street, concerning the trimming, hus¬ banding, and furnishing of their gardens : every man for his own part. And verily you shall not lightly find in all the city, any thing that is more commodious, either for the profit of the citizens, or for pleasure: and therefore it may seem that the first founder of the city minded nothing so i much as these gardens. For they say that king Utopus himself, even at the first beginning, appointed and drew forth the platform of the city into this fashion and figure that it hath now ; but* the gallant garnishing, and the flaps, or parts; a fashion now adopted in our drawing rooms, where two are contrived to be thrown open into one ; though I presume this latter fashion was not dreamt of by the good Utopians, or their historian. At the conclusion of the above sentence (gardens,) Alsop gravely tells us in a marginal note, that “ This geare smelleth of Plato his community ” ! * In Burnet and Warner the passage stands thus—“but he left all that belonged to the ornament and improvement of it, to be added by those that should come after him—that being too much for one man to bring to perfection.” The original is as follows : “ Sed ornatum, cseterumque cultum, quibus unius setatem hominis haud suffecturam vidit, posteris, adjiciendum reliquit.” The expression “ gallant garnishing ” is here among the earliest instances of it in our language. Johnson cites nothing more ancient than Shakspeare. Gray’s “gallant trim ” is analogous tojt. 242 UTOPIA. beautiful setting forth of it, whereunto he saw that one man’s age would not suffice, that he left to his posterity. For their chronicles, which they keep written with all dili¬ gent circumspection, containing the history of 1760* years, even from the first conquest of the island, record and wit¬ ness that the houses in the beginning were very low, and like homely cottages or poor shepherd houses, made at all adventures of every rude piece of timber that came first to hand, with mud walls, and ridged roofs, thatched over with straw. But now the houses be curiously builded after a gorgeous -f* and gallant sort, with three stories one over another. The outsides of the walls be made either of hard flint, or of plaister, or else of brick, and the inner sides be well strengthened with timber work.* The roofs be plain and flat, covered with a certain kind of plaister, that is of no cost, and yet so tempered that no fire can hurt or perish I suspect More meant to ridicule the supposed antiquities of towns in general, or rather the positive manner in which antiquaries are apt to assign old dates to them. t The above is among the earliest specimens of the use of this word in our language.—In the edition of 1551 it is spelt " gorgiouse.” + “ The progress of improvement in building ,” says Mr. Ellis, in his amusing “Digression on the private Life of the English,” (Spec. Early Engl. Poets, vol. i. 327.) “was from clay to lath and plaster, which was formed into panneis between the principal timbers; to floors coated with plaster of Paris; and to ceilings overlaid with mortar and washed with lime or plaster of delectable whiteness.” Country-houses were generally covered with shingles; but in towns, the danger of fires obliged the inhabitants to adopt the use of the tile or slate. “ The walls of our houses in the inner side,” says Harrison, (who wrote in Q. Elizabeth’s reign) “be either hanged with tapestry, arras work, or painted cloths, wherein either divers histories, or herbs, beasts, knots, and such like, are stained; or else they are seeled with oak of our own, or wainscot brought hither out of the east countries.” Chron. p. 187. The reader has before [p. 186 note] had some account of the domestic manners and customs of the English; it may be here only necessary to observe, that, the plague and sweating sickness, which prevailed in More s Lime, are attributed by Erasmus to the structure UTOPIA. 243 it, and withstandeth the violence of the weather better than any lead. They keep the wind out of their windows with glass,* for it is there much used ; and some where also, with fine linen cloth dipped in oil or amber,■j* and that for two commodities : for by this means more light cometh in, and the wind is better kept out. of our clay floors, apartments, and principally to the rushes that were strewed upon them—“ under which, says he, lies a putrid mixture of beer, stinking fragments of food, and all sorts of nastiness.” The filth of our streets, and construction of our houses at this time, are also censured by him. See his letter to Francescus, Wolsey s Phy¬ sician. Jortin’s Life of Erasmus, vol. ii. 341. * Glazed •windo'ws were first introduced into this country, in the year 1180, according to Dr. Anderson. History of Com. vol i. p. 90. edit. 1764. They are always mentioned by our early poets with an air of affectation which evinces their rarity; “so that,” says Mr. Ellis, “ we are not surprised at being told that the yeomen and farmers were perfectly contented with windows of lattice.” Spec. Early Engl. Poets, vol. i. 323. t The fondness of our ancestors for spices and perfumes of all kinds was excessive. Lydgate thought it necessary that Venus, when rising from the sea, should be “ anointe with gums and oint¬ ments sweeter for to smell : ” and the author of the Romance of the “ Squyr of Low Degre,” says “ When you are layde in bedde so soft, A cage of golde shall hange alofte. With longc-pepper fayre burning, And cloves that be swete smellyng, Frankcnsense and olibanumf &c.—v. 845-9. Ritson’s Metrical Romances, vol. iii. 180.—Ellis’s Early Engl. Poetry, vol. iii. 338—44. Consult also Ritson’s ingenious notes upon “ The Squyr”—and upon the antiquity of the Romance ; which “ has been thought even anterior, in point of date, to the time of Chaucer.” The only copy of it, in MS. or in print, that is known to exist, is the one in the British Museum, formerly belonging to Garrick; printed probably about the year 1560. Ritson’s Metr. Rom. vol. iii. 344. &c. Q CHAPTER III. ) £>f the Magistrates, VERY thirty families or farms, choose them yearly an officer, which in their old language is called the Siphogrant , and by a newer name, the Phylarch. Every ten Siphogrants , with all their thirty families, be under an officer, which was once called the Tranibore , now the chief Phylarch. Moreover as concerning the election of the prince, all the Siphogrants , whic h be i n number two hundred, first be sworn to choose him, whom they think most meet and expedient. Then by a secret election,* they name Prince one of those four whom the people before named unto them. For out of the four quarters of the city there be four chosen, out of every quarter one, to stand for the election : which be put up to the council. The Prince’s office continueth all his lifetime, unless he be deposed or put down for suspicion of tyranny. They choose the Tranibores yearly, but lightly they change them not. All the other officers be but for one year. The Tranibores every third day, and sometimes, if need be, oftener, come into the council house with the Prince. Their counsel is * Alsop exclaims in a marginal note, “ A mervilous strange fashion in choosing magistrates ! ” ! 3 7 UTOPIA. 245 concerning the common-wealth. If there be any contro¬ versies among the commoners, which be very few, they dispatch and end them by and by. They take ever two Siphogrants to them in counsel, and every day a new couple. And it is provided, that nothing touching the common-wealth shall be confirmed and ratified, unless it have been reasoned of and debated, three days in the council before it be decreed. It is death to have any con¬ sultation for the common-wealtli out of the^council, or the place of the common election. This statute, they say, was made to the intent, that the Prince and Tranibores might not easily conspire together to oppress the people by tyranny, and to change the state of the weal-public. There¬ fore matters of great weight and importance be brought to the election house of the Siphogrants, which open the matter to their families. And afterward, when they have consulted among themselves, they shew their devise to the council. Sometime the matter is brought before the council of the whole island. Furthermore, this custom also the council useth, to dispute or reason of no matter the same day* that it is first proposed or put forth, but to defer it to the next sitting of the council : because that no man, when he hath rashly there spoken what cometh to his tongue’s end, shall then afterward rather study for reasons wherewith to defend and maintain his first foolish sentence, than for the commodity of the common-wealth—as one rather willing the harm or hindrance of the weal-public, than any loss or diminution of his own estimation ; and as one that would be ashamed (which is a very foolish j shame) to be counted any thing at the first overseen in the * More borrowed this law from the usages of his own country, but oarticularly from the custom of our House of Commons; where notice s always given for leave to bring in a bill, or to make a motion on my important national question, at a future day. 246 UTOPIA. matter; who at the first ought to have spoken rather wisely, than hastily or rashly.* * This concluding sentence is very obscure. The original is as follows : “ Malitque salutis publicae, quam opinionis de se jacturam facere, perverso quodam ac prepostero pudore, ne initio parum pros¬ pexisse videatur. Cui prospiciendum initio fuit, ut consulto potius, quam cito loqueretur.” Which Burnet more intelligibly translates— “ and by a perverse and preposterous sort of shame, hazard their country rather than endanger their own reputation, or venture the being suspected to have wanted foresight in the expedients that they at first proposed : and therefore, to prevent this, they take care that they may rather be deliberate than sudden in their motions.” But how paraphrastic is this, compared with the sententious brevity of the original Latin ? The French translation is not quite so loose as the English. CHAPTER IV. CtaDes, Tins, anti £>ccupattons of tl)e mtoptansh USBANDRY* is a science common to them all in general, both men and women, wherein they be all expert and cunning. In this they be all instructed even from their youth : partly in their schools with traditions and precepts, and partly in the country nigh the city, brought up as it were in playing, not only beholding the use of it, but by occasion of exercising their bodies, practising it also. Be¬ sides husbandry, which (as I said) is common to them all, every one of them learneth one or other several and par¬ ticular science, as his own proper craft. That is, most commonly, either cloth-working in wool or flax,~or masonry, or the smith’s craft, or the carpenter’s science : for there is * “ What sweetnesse thinke we to find in Husbandrye and in the labour of the rusticall state, the whiche seemeth sweete, luckie, peace¬ able, simple, and innocent: Many Patriarkes and Prophets have chosen this kinde of living, as that in which there is least guile or deceite; also, many Roman emperors have, in times past, left their pallaices, capitalis, arckes, triumphes, glorious and faire buildings and empires, with all the rest of their worldlie majestie, for to remaine in the fieldes, to till and labour with their own handes the earth, trees and garden 1 ” Theatre or Rule of the World , p. 74. edit. 1581. 248 UTOPIA. none other occupation that any number, to speak of, doth use there. For their Garments , these throughout all the island be of one fashion ; (saving that there is a difference between the * man’s garment and the woman’s ; between the married and the unmarried) ; and this one continueth for Evermore unchanged, seemly and comely to the eye, no let to the moving and *welding of the body, also fit both for winter and summer : as for these garments (I say), every family maketh their own. But of the other foresaid crafts, every man learneth one : and not only the men but also the women. But the women, as the weaker sort, be put to the easier crafts : as to work wool and fla x.~f* The more labour- some sciences be committed to the men. For the most part, every man is brought up in his father’s craft: for most commonly they be naturally thereto bent and inclined. But if a man’s mind stand to any other, he is by adoption put into a family of that occupation which he doth most fancy. Whom not only his father, but also the magistrate do dili¬ gently look to, that he be put to a discreet and an honest householder. Yea, and if any person, when he hath learned one craft, be desirous to learn also another, he is likewise K “ Weld,” is said by Johnson to mean the beating of one mass into another, “ so as to incorporate them.” Mr. Todd, in his edition of Spenser, applies to it the meaning of “ wield ”—Warton and Upton being quoted in support of it. t This very ancient occupation of women is mentioued by Homer. Hector is made thus to address his wife Andromache : AAA’ oTkov lover a rd cr’ Icttov r’ rjXaKaTrjv T€.- avTrjs epya ko/u^c, -Iliad, lib. vi. v. 490-1. hasten to thy tasks at home. There guide the spindle, and direct the loom.” Pope’s transl. Hence, then, to our abode ; there weave or spin. And task thy maidens.” Cowper’s do. UTOPIA. 249 suffered and permitted. When he hath learned both, he occupieth whether he will: unless the city hath more need of the one than the other. The_chief and almost the only office of the Siphogrants is, to see and take heed that no man sit idle : but that every one apply his own craft with earnest diligence. And yet for all that, not to be wearied from early in the morning to late in the evening, with con¬ tinual work, like labouring and toiling beasts. For this is worse than the miserable and wretched condition of bond- men. Which nevertheless is almost everywhere the life of work¬ men and artificers, saving in Utopia . For they dividing th e day and the night into twenty-four just hours, appoint and assign' oniy~six oUttroseKours to work, three before noon, upon the which they go straight to dinner, and after dinner, when they have rested two hours, then they work three hours, and upon that they go to supper. About eight of the clock in the evening (counting one of the clock the first hour after noon) they go to bed : eight hours they give to sleep. All the void time that is between the hours of work, sleep, and meat, that they be suffered to bestow every man as he liketh best himself. Not to the intent that they should mispend this time in riot, or slothfulness, but being then licensed from the labour of their own occupations, to bestow the time well and thriftily upon some other science, as shall please them. for it is a solemn custom there to have lec¬ tures daily, early in the morning : whereto they only be constrained to be present that be chosen and appointed to learning. Howbeit a great multitude of every sort of people, both men and women, go to hear lectures, some one and some another, as every man’s nature is inclined. Yet this notwithstanding, if any man had rather bestow this time upon his own occupation, as it chanceth in many (whose minds lise not in the contemplation of any science liberal), 250 UTOPIA. he is not letted or prohibited, but is also praised and com¬ mended, as profitable to the common-wealth. After supper they bestow one hour in play : in summer, in their gardens : in winter, in their common halls, where they dine and sup. There they exercise themselves in music, or else in honest and wholesome communication. Dice-play, and such other foolish and pernicious games, they know not; but they use two games, not much unlike the chess.* The one is the battle of numbers, wherein one number stealeth away another. The other is where vices fight with virtues, as it were in battle array, or a set field. In the which game is very properly shewed, both the strife and discord that the vices have among themselves, and again, their unity and concord against virtues. And also what vices be repugnant to what virtues ; with what power and strength they assail them openly : by what wiles and sub- tilty they assault them secretly : with what help and aid the virtues resist and overcome the puissancef of the vices: by what craft they frustrate their purposes: and finally by what sleight or means the one getteth the victory. But here, lest The respect which More shews for this admirable game is not to be wondered at. Kings, philosophers, warriors, poets, scholars, have all been enamoured of it; and a little volume of amusing anecdotes might be composed of its fascinating effects; but enough of these have been already before the public. I will here only observe, that the first book written upon it, in our language , was by “William Caxton,” who printed the same in the year 1474; and again, without date, with a number of curious wood cuts. Caxton’s work is a trans¬ lation from the French of Jehan De Vignay, who, in turn, is supposed to have transtated it from the Latin of Jacobus de Ccesollis, which was piobably first composed about the beginning of the 13th century. The principal, if not the only book on Chess in the Spanish language is a 4 to. one of three hundred pages, by R. L. De Sigura, printed in 1561. Carrera’s book is the celebrated Italian one : it is in 4to. 1617, and is full of information. A copy of it is in the British Museum. His Majesty possesses both the books printed by Caxton. t In Robinson’s translation of the Utopia, probably, the English UTOPIA. 251 you be deceived, one thing 1 you must look more narrowly upon. For seeing they bestow but six hours in work, per¬ chance you may think that the lack of some necessary things hereof may ensue. But this is nothing so ; for that small time is not only enough, but also too much for the store and abundance of all things that be requisite, either for the necessity or commodity of life. The which thing you also shall perceive, if you weigh and consider with yourselves how great a part of the people in other countries liveth idle. First, almost all women, which be the half of the whole number: or else, if the women be somewhere occupied, there most commonly in their stead the men be idle. Besides this, how great and how idle a company is there of priests and religious men, as they call them ; put thereto all rich men, specially all landed men, which com¬ monly be called gentlemen and noblemen—take into this number also their servants : I mean all that flock of stout bragging rushbucklers.* Join to them also sturdy and valiant beggars, cloaking their idle life under the colour of , some disease or sickness. word puissance first appeared; which Johnson intimates is pronounced as if it were of two syllables. The elegant author of the “ Pleasures of Hope ” has divided it into three ; “ Yet for Sarmatia’ s tears of blood atone. And make her arm puissant as your own.” * “ Illam cetratorum nebulonum colluviem;” literally, “that rabble or multitude of bullying fellows dressed up with swords, alluding to the custom of servants then wearing scymitars or swords, Burnet and Warner tamely say, “ idle persons that are kept more for shew than use.” The French translation, which is in this place sufficiently paraphrastic, says here, however, properly enough, “ toute cette canaille de Valets armez.” The above expression “ rushbucklers,” which seems to have been coined on purpose for the Latin phrase “cetratorum nebulonum,” meaning that the servants bucklers were as flimsey as rushes, is, I believe, to be found in few authors of the 16th century. 252 UTOPIA. And truly you shall find them much fewer than you thought, by whose labour all these things are wrought, that in men’s affairs are now daily used and frequented. Now consider with yourself, of these few that do work, how few be occupied in necessary work ? For where money beareth all the swing* there many vain and superfluous occupations must needs be used to serve only for riotous superfluity, and unhonest pleasure : for the same multitude that now is occupied in work, if they were divided into so few occupa¬ tions, as the necessary use of nature requireth, in so great plenty of things as then of necessity would ensue, doubtless the prices would be too little for the artificers to maintain their livings. But if all these, that be now busied about unprofitable occupations, with all the whole flock of them that live idly and slothfully, which consume and waste every one of them more of these things that come by other men’s labour, than two of the workmen themselves do: if all these (I say) were set to profitable occupations, you easily perceive how little time would be enough, yea, and too much, to store us with all things that may be requisite either for necessity or commodity, yea or for pleasure, so that the same pleasure be true and natural. And this in Utopia the thing itself maketh manifest and plain. For there, in all the city, with the whole country or shire adjoining to it, scarcely five hundred persons of all the whole number of men and women, that be neither too old nor too weak to work, be licensed and discharged from labour. Among them be the Sip ho- I grants (who though they be by the laws exempt and privi¬ leged from labour) yet they exempt not themselves : to the intent they may the rather by their example provoke others to work. Johnson has not given us this illustration of the word swing; it means “ sway.” UTOPIA. 253 The same vacation from labour do they also enjoy, to whom the people, persuaded by the commendation of the priests, and secret election of the Siphogrants , have given a perpetual license, from labour to learning. But if any one of them prove not according to the expectation and hope of him conceived, he is forthwith plucked back to the com¬ pany of artificers : and contrary wise. And often it chanceth/ that a handycraftsman doth so earnestly bestow his vacant and spare hours in learning, and through diligence so profiteth therein, that he is taken from his handy occupa¬ tion, and promoted to the company of the learned. Out of this order of the learned be chosen ambassadors, priests, Tranibores, and finally the prince himself. Whom they in their old tongue call Barzanes , and by a newer name A damns. The residue of the people being neither idle, nor yet occupied about unprofitable exercises, it may be easily judged in how few hours how much good work by them may be done and dispatched, towards those things that I have spoken of. This commodity they have also above other, that in the most part of necessary occupations they need not so much work as other nations do. For first of all, the building or repairing of houses asketh eveiy where so many men’s continual labour, because that the unthrifty heir suffereth the houses that his father builded, in con¬ tinuance of time to fall in decay. So that which he might have upholden with little cost, his successor is constrained to build it again anew to his great charge. Yea many times also, the house that stood one man in much money, another is of so nice and so delicate a mind, that he setteth nothing by it! and it being neglected, and therefore shortly falling into ruin, he buildeth up another in another place with no less cost and charge. But among the Utopians , where all things be set in good 254 UTOPIA. order, and the common-wealth in a good stay, it seldom chanceth that they choose a new plot to build an house upon. And they do not only find speedy and quick remedies for present faults ; but also prevent them that be like to fall. And by this means, their houses continue and last very long with little labour and small reparations; inso¬ much, that these kind of workmen sometimes have almost nothing to do. But then they be commanded to hew timber at home, and to square and trim up stones, to the intent that, if any work chance, it may the speedilier rise. Now, Sir, in their apparel , mark (I pray you) how few workmen they need. First of all, whilst they be at work, they be covered homely with leather or skins, that will last seven years. When they go forth abroad, they cast upon them a cloak which hideth the other homely apparel. These cloaks throughout the whole island be all of one colour, and that is the natural colour of the wool. They therefore do not only spend much less woollen cloth, than is spent in other countries, but also the same standeth them in much less cost. But linen cloth is made with much less labour, and is therefore had more in use. But in linen cloth, only whiteness, in woollen, only cleanliness, is regarded. As for the smallness or fineness of the thread, that is nothing passed for. And this is the cause wherefore in other places, four or five cloth gowns of divers colours, and as many silk coats, be not enough for one man. Yea, and if he be of the delicate and nice sort, ten be too few i whereas there one garment will serve a man most commonly two years: for why should he desire more ? seeing if he had them he should not be the better hapt * or covered from cold—neither * Conditioned: from hap, chance, fortune. [Dibdin is certainly wrong here ; hapt is -wrapped: hapt = covered, and happing — covering are yet quite common words in many parts of England. “ Hap ’im up well and he 11 tek no harm fra th’ cou’d (Lincoln) = (( Put plenty of warm clothes on him, and the cold won’t hurt him.”] UTOPIA. 255 in his apparel any whit the comlier! Wherefore seeing they be all exercised in profitable occupations, and that few artificers in the same crafts T5e sufficient. this is the cause that plenty of all things be among them. They do sometimes bring forth an innumerable company of people to amend the highways, if any be broken. Many times also, when they have no such work to be occupied about, an open proclamation is made that they shall bestow fewer hours in work 1 for the magistrates do not exercise their citizens against their wills in unneedful labours. For why* in the institution of the weal-public, this end is only and chiefly pre¬ tended and minded—that what time may possibly be spared from the necessary occupations and affairs of the common¬ wealth, all that the citizens should withdraw from the bodily service to the free liberty of the mind, and garnishing of the same. For herein they suppose the felicity of this life to consist. * Because. CHAPTER V. 2Dome£ttc Xtfe anD Character of tl)e Htoptans. UT now will I declare how the citizens use themselves one to another: what familiar occupying and entertainment there is among the people, and what fashion they use in the distribution of everything. First, the city consisteth of families : the families most commonly be made of kindreds. For the women when they be married at a lawful age, they go into their husbands houses. But the male children, with all the whole male offspring continue still in their own family, and be governed of the eldest and ancientest father, unless he dote* for age : for then the next to him in age is placed in his room. But to the intent the prescript number of the citizens should neither decrease, nor above measure increase ; it is ordained that no family, which in every city be six thousand in the whole, besides them of the country, shall at once have fewer children of the age of fourteen years or thereabout, than ten, or more than sixteen; for of children under this age, no number can be prescribed or appointed. This measure ! Unless he be impaired in i?itellect on account of age : the above mode of expression is very uncommon. [?] UTOPIA. 259 or number is easily observed and kept, by putting them, that in fuller families be above the number, into families of smaller increase. But if chance be, that in the whole city the store increase above the just number, therewith they fill up the lack of other cities. But if so be that the whole multitude throughout the whole island, pass and exceed the due number, then they choose out of every city, certain citizens, and build up a town under their own laws in the next land, where the inhabitants have much waste and unoccupied ground, receiving also of the same country people to them, if they will join and dwell with them. They, thus joining and dwelling together, do easily agree in one fashion of living, and that to the great wealth of both the people : for they so bring the matter about by their laws, that the ground, which before was neither good nor profitable for the one nor for the other, is now sufficient and fruitful enough for them both. But if the inhabitants of the land will not dwell with them to be ordered by their laws, then they drive them out of those bounds which they have limited and appointed out for themselves. And if they resist and rebel, then they make war against them. For they count this the most just cause of war: when any people holdeth a piece of ground void and vacant to no good nor profitable use; keeping other from the use and possession of it, which, notwithstanding, by the law of nature, ought thereof to be nourished and relieved. If any chance do so much diminish the number of any of their cities, that it cannot be filled up again, without the dimi¬ nishing of the just number of the other cities (which they say chanced but twice since the beginning of the land, through a great pestilent plague) ; then they fulfil and make up the number with citizens fetched out of their own foreign towns ; for they had rather suffer their foreign towns to decay and perish, than any city of their own island to be UTOPIA. diminished. But now again to the conversation of the citizens among themselves. The eldest (as I said) ruleth the family. The wives be ministers to their husbands, the children to their parents,* and, to be short, the younger to their elders. Every city is divided into four equal parts or quarters. In the midst of every quarter there is a market place of all manner of things. Thither the works of every family be brought into certain houses : and every kind of thing is laid up several f in barns or storehouses. From hence the father of every family, or every householder, fetcheth whatsoever he and his have need of, and carrieth it away with him without money, without exchange, without any gage, pawn, or pledge. For why should anything be denied unto him, seeing there is abundance of all things ? and that it is not to be feared lest any man will ask more than he needeth ? For why should it be thought that that man would ask more than enough, which is sure never to lack ? Certainly, in all kinds of living creatures, either fear of lack doth cause covetousness and ravin, or in man, only pride, which counteth it a glorious thing to pass and excel other in the superfluous and vain ostentation of things. The which kind of vice among the Utopians can have no place. Next to the market-places that I speak of, stand meat-markets : whither be brought, not only all sorts of herbs, and the fruits of trees, with bread; but also fish, and all manner of four footed beasts, and wild fowl, that be man’s meat. But first the filthiness and ordure thereof is clean washed away in the running * More had the highest opinion, and was himself a most striking example, of filial obedience. When he was Lord Chancellor, and met his father. Sir John More, Chief Justice of the King’s Bench, in Westminster Hall, in his way to the Court of Chancery, he would fall upon his knees and beg his blessing, insisting, too, upon the precedence of his father. f Separately, UTOPIA. 259 river without the city, in places appointed meet for the same purpose. From thence the beasts be brought in killed, and clean washed by the hands of their bondmen : for they permit not their free citizens to accustom themselves to the killing of beasts, through the use whereof, they think clemency, the gentlest affection of our nature, by little and little to decay and perish. Neither they suffer any thing that is filthy, loathsome, or uncleanly, to be brought into the city, lest the air by stench thereof, infected and corrupt, should cause pestilent diseases. Moreover, every street hath certain great large halls set in equal distance one from another, every one known by a several name. In these halls dwell the Siphogrants. And to every one of the same haIIs be a P point !l„thirty families, on either side fifteen. The stewards of every hall, at a certain hour, come into the I meat markets, where they receive meat according to the number of their halls. I But first and chi efly of all, respect is had to the sick that •be cured in the hospitals. For in the circuit of the" city, a little without the walls, they have four hosp itals, so big, so jjivide, so ample, and so large, that they may seem four little :owns; which were devised of that bigness, partly to the ntent the sick, be they never so many in number, should lot he too throng or strait, and therefore uneasily and ncommodiously: and partly that they, which were taken md holden with contagious diseases, such as be wont by nfection to creep from one to another, might be laid afar rom the company of the residue. These hospitals* be so well appointed, and with all things ecessary to health so furnished, and moreover so diligent I*. Pi y t0 P ians ’ management of their sick is very judicious hough the hospitals in London are spacious and airy, they are in many instances, surrounded by houses: this is not the fault of le.r ounders, but the effect of an increased population, and a conse- 26 o UTOPIA. attendance through the continual presence of cunning* physicians is given, that though no man be sent thither against his will, yet, notwithstanding, there is no sick person in all the city that had not rather lie there than at home at his own house. When the steward of the sick hath received such meats as the physicians have prescribed, then the best is equally divided among the halls according to the com¬ pany of every one ; saving there is had a respect to the Prince, the Bishop, the Tranibores , and to ambassadors and all strangers, if there be any, which be very few and seldom. But they also, when they be there, have certain several houses appointed and prepared for them. To these halls, at the set hours of dinner and supper, cometh all the Siphogranty or ward, warned by the noise of a brazen trumpet; except such as be sick in the hospitals, or else in their own houses. Howbeit, no man is prohibited or forbid, after the halls be served, to fetch home meat out of the market to his own house ; for they know that no man will do it without a reasonable cause. For though no man be prohibited to dine at home, yet no man doth it willingly; because it is counted a point of small honesty. And also it were a folly to take the pain to dress a bad dinner at home, when they may be welcome to good and fine fare so nigh hand at the hall. In this hall, all vile service, and all slavery, with all laboursome toil, and drudgery, and base business, is done by bondmen. But the women of every family by course have the office and charge of cookery for seething*[* and quent necessity of building. Qu. however, whether a law to prevent building within a certain distance from an hospital, might not be the means of sometimes preventing the propagation of epidemic diseases? [Great improvements have taken place since this was written.] * The old expression for expert , skilful. t Boiling. More was probably unacquainted with the superiority UTOPIA. 261 dressing the meat, and ordering all things thereto belonging. They sit at three tables or more, according to the number of their company. The men sit upon the bench next the wall, and the women against them on the other side of the table; and if any sudden evil should chance to them, as many times happeneth to women with child, they may rise without trouble or disturbance of any body, and go thence into the nursery.* The nurses sit several alone of Men-Cooks: in the present times, and especially in the houses of the great and affluent, it may be questioned whether, next to the master and his family, there be a more important inmate than the Alan-Cook, whose chief excellence seems to consist in a thorough knowledge of the arcana of French Cookery ! The facetious Sir Thomas Overbury has given us an admirable character of a French Cook, about two hundred years ago, which is not much unlike that of the present race of them. “A French Cook. “He learnt his trade in a towne of garison near famish’t, where hee practised to make a little go farre; some derive it from more anti¬ quity, and say, Adam (when he pickt sallets) was of his occupation. He doth not feed the belly, but the palate; and though his command lie in the kitchen (which is but an inferiour place) yet shall you find him a very sawcy companion. Ever since the wars in Naples, he hath so minc’t the ancient and bountifull allowance, as if his nation should keepe a perpetual diet. The serving-men call him “ the last relique of Popery,” that makes men fast against their conscience. He can be truely said to be no man’s felow but his master’s; for the rest of his servants are starved by him. He is the prime cause why noblemen build their houses so great; for the smalnesse of their kitchen makes the house the bigger; and the Lord calls him his “ Alchymist,” that can extract gold out of hearbes, rootes, mush- roomes, or any thing; that which he dresses, we may rather call a drinking than a meal; yet he is so full of vanity, that he brags (and truly), that he gives you but * taste of what he can doe ! He dare not for fus life come among the butchers; for sure they would quarter and bake him after the English fashion, he’s such an enemy to beef and mutton ! To conclude, he were only fit to make a funeral feast, where men should eat their victuals in mourning! ’’—Characters edit. 1630. x There §" rea t delicacy and good sense in the order observed by t e topians relating to the women. From a man who wore a hair s irt next his breast, as More did, it is not always that we obtain such wise maxims about cleanliness, 8cc. 262 UTOPIA. with their young sucklings, in a certain parlour appointed and deputed to the same purpose, never without fire and clean water, nor yet without cradles ; that when they will, they may lay down the young infants, and at their pleasure take them out of their swathing cloaths, and hold them to the fire, and refresh them * with play. Every MOTHER IS NURSE TO HER OWN CHILD, UNLESS EITHER DEATH, OR SICKNESS, BE THE LET.“f* When that chanceth, the wives -V' JPTV*» of the Siphogrants quickly provide a nurse. And that is not hard to be done, for they that can do it, proffer them¬ selves to no service so gladly as to that. Because that there, this kind of pity is much praised : and the child that is nourished, ever after taketh his nurse for his own natural mother. Also among the nurses, sit all the children that be under the age of five years. All the other children of both kinds, as well boys as girls, that be under the age of marriage, do either serve at the tables, or else if they * The natural benevolence and parental tenderness of More’s disposition, are strongly evinced in this part of the Utopia, where he lays down laws for the management of Children. How beautiful and how just are the sentiments of Boiastuau on this subject ! f< Nature (says he) can give us but one father and one mother, but matrimony representeth many in our children; the whiche do reverence and honour us, who are more deare than our proper bowels. Being young and little, they play, prattle, laugh, and shew us many apish toyes; they prepare us an infinite number of plesures; it seemeth that they are recreations and pastimes that nature hath given us, for to deceiue and passe awaye part of our miserable lyfe : if we be vexed with age, (a thing common to all) they solace the discommoditie of our age, close our eyes, and bring us to the earth from whence we came : they are our bones, our flesh, and blood; seeing them, we see ourselves, in such sort, that the father seeing his children may be assured that he seeth his lyvely youth renued in the face of his children, in whom we are regenerate and borne again, in such sort, that age is not grievous unto us; beholding the mirrors or similitudes of our selves, that elevate the memorie of us, and make us almost immortal.” Theatre or Rule of the World, pp. 128,9. t I have marked this passage in capital letters, for reasons which some female readers will immediately perceive and approve. UTOPIA. 263 J be too young thereto, they stand by with marvellous silence. That which is given to them from the table they eat, and other several dinner time they have none. The j Siphogrant and his wife sit in the midst of the high table, for as much as that is counted the honourablest place, and because from thence, all the whole company is in their sight. For that table standeth overthwart the over end of the hall. To them be joined two of the ancientest and eldest. For at every table they sit four at a mess.* But if there be a church standing in that Siphogranty, or ward, then the priest and his wife f sitteth with the Siphogrant, as chief in the company. On both sides of them sit young men, and next unto them again, old men. And thus throughout all the house, equal of age be set together, and yet be mixt and matched with unequal ages. This, they say, was ordained to the intent that the sage gravity and reverence of the elders should keep the youngers from wanton license of words and behaviour : for as much as nothing can be so secretly spoken or done at the table, but either they that sit on the one side or on the other, must needs perceive it. The dishes be not set down * Qu. how far More has made his Utopians, in this instance, imitate the custom observed at the Inn of Court (Lincoln’s Inn) where he was himself brought up ? The students always dine “ four at a mess.” t “ It is plain from the author’s giving the priest a wife in this place, that, contrary to thte superstition of his own religion, he was a friend to the marriage of ecclesiastics. If he did not penetrate into the secret reason of the see of Rome for decreeing their celibacy, as perhaps he did not, yet the visible designs of that court, and the known wickedness and ambition of those prelates who promoted it, must have convinced him that holiness and purity were the things considered in the canon on that subject. He could not but know too, that the law of Christ had not abridged them of the right which was given them by the law of nature; and that any power forbidding what the natural law had allowed, had been foretold as one of the marks of the antichristian spirit.” —Warner. 264 UTOPIA. in order from the first place, but all the old men (whose places be marked with some special token to be known) be first served of their meat, and then the residue, equally. The old men divide their dainties, as they think best, to the younger on each side of them. Thus the elders be not defrauded of their due honour, and nevertheless equal commodity cometh to every one. They begin every dinner and supper with reading something that pertaineth to good manners and virtue. But it is short, because no man shall be grieved therewith. Hereof the elders take occasion of honest communication, but neither sad nor unpleasant. Howbeit, they do not spend all the whole dinner time themselves with long and tedious talk, but they gladly hear also the young men : yea, and purposely pro- j \\ voke them to talk, to the intent that they may have a proof \ of every man’s wit, and towardness, or disposition to virtue; which commonly in the liberty of feasting, doth shew and utter itself.* Their dinners be very short; but their suppers be somewhat longer,*[* because that after dinner * The old maxim, “ In vino veritas” was here, probably, in the recollection of More : so true is it, that the feelings of the human heart, and all the native frankness of the soul, seem to display them¬ selves spontaneously in the social hour of festivity and merriment! f “ Concernyng the generali usage of countries (says Sir Thomas Elyot, in his Castell of Helth), and admittyng the bodies to be in perfect state of health, I suppose that, in England, yong men untill they come to the age of x. yeres, may well eat thre meales in one daie, as at breakefast, dyner, and supper; so that betwene breakfast and diner, be the space of iiii houres at the lest; betwene diner and supper vi houres.” fol. 42. b. edit. 1541. This was probably the custom observed in England when More wrote his Utopia; for Sir Thomas Elyot composed this curious (and now very scarce) little book at the commencement of the 16th century. If this custom were now to be observed, the supper would take place between the hours of 10 and 12 at night; allowing the general dinner hour, among the most respectable classes of society, to be from 4 to 6 o’clock. But, in fact, the dinner is novo made the supper too : this latter meal, professedly as such, being rarely introduced. UTOPIA. 265 followeth labour; after supper, sleep and natural rest ; which they think to be of more strength and efficacy to wholesome and healthful digestion. No supper is passed without music.* Nor their banquets want no conceits, nor junkets.*)* They burn sweet gums and spices or perfumes, and pleasant smells, and sprinkle about sweet ointments and waters, yea, they have nothing undone that maketh for the cherishing * of the company. For they be much * More was passionately fond of music ; and he takes occasion in this place to evince his love of it, by making it, rather than the drink¬ ing of strong liquors, the exhilarator of the spirits. “More sometimes recreated his tired spirits on the viol; perfecting himself in most of the liberal sciences, as Music,” &c. “ His first wife, which was but young, he caused to be instructed in learning, and to be taught all kind of music .” The principal recreations of his family were “ either music of voices, or viols j for which cause he procured his [second] wife to play thereon, to draw her mind from the world,” &c. More’s Life of his Great-grandfather, 4to edit. 54, 121, 127. Vocal and instrumental music seem to have been fashionable at this period, and especially at court. “ King Henry the Eight (says Peacham) could not only sing his part sure, but of himself compose a service of foure, five, and sixe parts; as Erasmus, in a certaine epistle, testifieth of his owne knowledge.” In Farrag. Epist. See Peacham’s “ Compleat Gentleman,” p. 99. edit. 1661. f “ Nec ullis caret secunda mensa bellariis,” “and there is always fruit served up after dinner,” say Burnet and Warner. “ On y a au dessert,” says the French translator, “toute sorte de confitures et de friandises,” which is similar to the above; “ nor their bankettes lacke no conceytes nor junckettes ” ed. 1551. Conceits, comfits, or junkets, mean sweetmeats ; each word being a translation of “ bellaria,” — “ dried fruits or roots preserved with sugar.” See Skinner and Junius : the latter has a curious illustration of it. Sweetmeats were a favourite dish with our ancestors, and were generally eaten before, or during, dinner with other meats. Sir lhomas Elyot tells us, that “ Fruites confectionate, specially with hony, are not to be eaten with other meates.” A little further, he advises his reader to “ take hede that slippery meates be not fiyrste eaten, nor that stiptik nor restraining meates be taken at the begyn- ning, as quynces, peares, and medlars.” Castell of Helth, fol. 45,6. 4 Our author appears to have been a liberally-minded man in his ideas ol social entertainment. In his practice, as regarded himself, he was abstemious and simple to a degree. “ He used to eate at his 266 UTOPIA. inclined to this opinion : to think no kind of pleasure forbidden, whereof cometh no harm. Thus, therefore, and after this sort, they live together in the city; but in the country, they that dwell alone, far from any neighbours, do dine at home in their own houses: for no family there lacketh any victuals, as from whom cometh all that the citizens eat and live by.-f* meales but of one dish, which was po’ivdered biefe, or some such like salt meate, although his table was furnished with much varietie; and what meate he first tasted on, the same would he for that time make his whole refection of. In his youth, he abstained from wine; and in his later yeares, he would taste thereof, but first it must be well alayed with water.” More’s Life of his Great Grandfather, 4to. edit. 42. ■j* The antiquary will view, throughout the whole dinner and supper arrangements of the Utopians, a faithful picture of the customs of the times : which are thus related by Dr. Henry, from the best authori¬ ties, and which are too amusing to be withheld from the curious reader. “ The Cookery of the English at this period cannot now be appre¬ ciated, or distinguished otherwise than by a profusion of hot spices with which every dish was indiscriminately seasoned. Dinner and supper were served in the hall, where the first was placed in a sort of recess, or elevation, at the upper end, and reserved for the land¬ lord and his principal guests, while visitors less respectable were seated with th and narrow tables The rank of the that occupied guests was again discriminated in their arrangement, by their situa¬ tion above or below the salt-cellar j which was placed invariably in the middle of the table, and the usher was carefully instructed to displace such as might seat themselves unmannerly above their betters. The chief servants attended always above the salt-cellar; beneath which the table was probably crowded with poor dependants, whom the guests despised, and the servants neglected. The servants were marshalled, and the dishes served, by orders issued aloud from the usher; and at table none presumed to taste of the dishes, till they were drawn successively upwards to the principal personage, from whom they descended again to the rest of the company. Churchmen affected peculiar ceremony, and the Abbot of St. Alban s dined with greater state than the nobility themselves. His table was elevated fifteen steps above the hall, and, in serving his dinner, the monks, at every fifth step, performed a hymn. He dined alone at UTOPIA. 267 the middle of his table, to the ends of which guests of distinguished rank were admitted; and the monks, after their attendance on the abbot was over, sat down to tables at the sides of the hall, and were served with equal respect by the novices. At Wolsey’s entertain¬ ment of the French ambassadors, the company was summoned by trumpet to supper, and the courses were announced by a prelude of music. The second course contained upwards of an hundred devices or subtilties ; castles, churches, animals, warriors justing on foot and on horseback; others dancing with ladies, “ all as well counterfeited, says the historian, (Stowe), as the painter should have painted on a cloth or wall.” Such entertainments were not of short duration; the dinner hour was eleven in the forenoon, the supper six in the evening; but the dinner was often prolonged till supper, and that protracted till late at night.” Hist, of Great Britain, xii. 376, &c. [Holingshed, 166, 170. Antiq. Repert, vol. iii. 61. 154. 186. Warton’s Hist. Eng. Poet. vol. iii. 343. n. Northumberland Household Book; all quoted by Dr. Henry.] This latter authority is a very rare and curious performance, giving an account of the Earl of Northumberland’s household establishment in 1512. It was edited by Dr. Percy, Bishop of Dromore, in 8vo. 1770, and printed only for private circulation. It would appear from Harrison, that the sumptuous fare of our ancestors in the 16th century operated as a curious contrast to the meanness of their houses. “ Certes (says he) this rude kind of build¬ ing made the Spaniards in Queen Mary’s days to wonder; but chiefly when they saw what large diet was used in many of these so homely cottages ; insomuch that one, of no small reputation among them, said after this manner: “ The Englishmen, quoth he, have their houses made of sticks and dirt, but they fare commonly as well as the king ! ” V \ J |>T «A CHAPTER VI. i < , 1 poties of CraMltng, etc. UT if any be desirous to visit either their friends dwelling in another city, or to see the place itself, they easily obtain license of the Siphogrants and Tranibores , unless there be some profitable let. No man goeth out alone, but a company is sent forth, together with their prince’s letters, who do testify that they have license to go that journey, and prescribeth also the day of their return. They have a wain given them, with a common bond- man, which driveth the oxen, and taketh charge of them. But unless they have women in their company, they send home the wain again, as an impediment and let. And though they carry nothing forth with them, yet in all their journey they lack nothing. For wheresoever they come, they be AT HOME.* If they tarry in a place longer than one day, then there every one of them falleth to his own occupation, and be very gently entertained of the workmen * “ Ubique enim domi sunt: ” a constituent part of a perfect commonwealth, and one of the chief sources of human happiness. A great portion of the wretchedness of society consists in the ridiculous forms and ceremonies of visiting. Perhaps our posterity, some 200 years hence, may be surprised to find that being “ at home” now means a preparation to receive more visitors than the apartments will hold. When rooms are crammed to suffocation, it is then, ' UTOPIA. 269 and companies of the same crafts. If any man of his own head and without leave, walk out of his precinct and bounds, and be taken without the Prince’s letters, he is I , ^ -afl> , ^^.urmiTi ■ nr - H 1t A.a.g-I-Cvy»*»» ^ brought again for a fugitive, or a run-away, with great shame and rebuke, and is sharply punished. If he be taken in that fault again, he is punished with bondage. If any be desirous to walk abroad into the fields, or into the country that belongeth to the same city that he dwell- eth in, obtaining the good will of his father, and the consent of his wife,* he is not prohibited. But unto what part of the country soever he cometh, he hath no meat given him until he have wrought out his forenoon’s task, or dispatched so much work as there is wont to be wrought before supper. Observing this law and condition, he may go whither he will, within the bounds of his own city : for he shall be no less profitable to the city, than if he were within it. Now you see how little liberty they have to loiter; how they can have no cloak or pretence to idleness. There be neither wine-taverns, nor ale-houses,-f* nor stews, nor any occasion of vice or wickedness, no lurking emphatically, or rather fashionably, speaking, that the good lady of the house (see her, or catch her, if you can !) is enjoying the comforts of home ! To be more explicit, when a card of invitation is now sent out, with two monosyllables upon it, “ at home,” it is an inti¬ mation that the mistress of this home is anxious to enjoy a little domestic circle of about 2 or 3, or 500 finely dressed ladies and gentlemen ! * The complaisance of the Utopians towards their wives is truly exemplary. I fear the Europeans do not in every respect imitate their example ! t ‘‘Without going the author’s length in extinguishing all property, it is incontestibly to be demonstrated, even under our own establish¬ ment in this nation, that a great part of the degeneracy we complain of, arises from the vast number of taverns and ale-houses that are tolerated, for the sake of the tax which is paid for a license. The morals of our people are not only corrupted in these places, by their loose and idle conversation, and the excesses which are committed in 270 UTOPIA. corners, no places of wicked counsels or unlawful assem¬ blies, but they be in the present sight, and under the eyes of every man. So that of necessity they must either apply their accustomed labours, or else recreate themselves with honest and laudable pastimes. them, but the whole profits of their shops and labour, which should support their families, are often swallowed up there; to the destruc- tionof their own health, the misery of their wives and ch.ldren, and at last to the ruin of them all.”— Warner. . . . , How forcibly have these vices been delineated by the ongina pencil of Cowper, and in what strong language has this excise-tax been reprobated ! “ Pass where we may, through city or through town. Village, or hamlet, of this merry land. Though lean and beggar’d—every twentieth pace Conducts the unguarded nose to such a whiff Of stale debauch, forth issuing from the styes That law has licensed , as makes temperance reel. The Excise is fattened with the rich result Of all this riot: and ten thousand casks. For ever dribbling out their base contents. Touched by the Midas-finger of the State, Bleed gold for ministers to sport away. Drink and be mad, then ! ’Tis your country bids! Gloriously drink, obey the important call! Her cause demands the assistance of your throats, Ye all can swallow, and she asks no more. Task, book iv. The vice of Drinking does not seem to have ceased, or abated even, in this country, in consequence of the rebukes of our legislative philosopher. The middle and close of the sixteenth century were as remarkable for hard drinking as the opening of it. George Gascoigne, who in the year 1576 wrote a religious tract entitled, “A delicate diet for daintie mouthde droonkardes : wherein the fowle abuse ot common carousing, and quaffing with hartie draughtes, is honesthe admonished,” draws the following picture of the English at that time. “The Almaines with their small Renish wine are contented, or rather then faile a cup of beere may entreate them to stoupe. But we must have Marchbeere, dooble beere. Dagger ale, Bragget, Renish wine. White wine, French wine, Gascoyne wine, -backe, Hollocke, Canaria wine, Vino grcco , Vinum amabile , and al the wines UTOPIA. 271 This fashion and trade of life being used among the people, it cannot be chosen, but that they must of necessity have store and plenty of all things. And seeing they be all thereof partners equally, therefore can no man there be poor or needy. In the council of Amaurote, whither, as I said, every city sendeth three men a-piece yearly, as soon as it is perfectly known of what things there is in every place, plenty; and again, what things be scant in any place ; incontinent, the lack of the one is performed and filled up with the abundance of the other. And this they do freely without any benefit, taking nothing again of them to whom the thing is given ; but those cities that have given of their store to any other city that lacketh, requiring nothing again of the same city, do take such things as they lack of another city to the which they gave nothing. So the whole land is, as it were, one family or household. When they have made sufficient provision of store for themselves (which they think not done until they have that may be gotten. Yea, wine of itselfe is not sufficient; but Suger, Limons, and sundry sortes of spices, must be drowned therein.” A little further, he tells us that some “ nyne draughts, yea nyneteene draughts, nay sometime nine and twenty doo not suffice ! ” See Waldron’s Literary Museum, p. 18, 19, where this tract is re-printed. From Henry Peacham, who published the first edition of his “ Compleat Gentleman ” in 1622, we learn that the English kept up their reputation for drinking at the commencement of the 17th cen¬ tury. “ Within these fifty or threescore years (says he) it was a rare thing with us in England to see a drunken man [which, by the bye, contradicts Gascoigne’s testimony] ; our nation carrying the name of the most sober and temperate of any other in the world ; but since we had to do with the quarrel in the Netherlands , about the time of Sir John Norrice his first being there, the custom of drinking and pledging healths was brought over into England; wherein, let the Dutch be their own judges if we equal them not: yea, I think rather excell them.” Se ep. 203, ed. 1627 : p. 272, ed. 1661 ; also the note about “ Taverns.” 272 UTOPIA. provided for two years following, because of the uncer¬ tainty of the next year’s proof), then of those things whereof they have abundance, they carry forth into other countries great plenty : as grain, honey, wool, flax, wood, madder, purple-dyed fells,* wax, tallow, leather, and living beasts. And the seventh part of all these things they give frankly and freely to the poor of that country. The residue they sell at a reasonable and mean price. By this means of traffic or merchandize, they bring into their own country not only great plenty of gold and silver, but also all such things as they lack at home, which is almost nothing but iron. And by reason they have long used this trade, now they have more abundance of these things than any man will believe. Now, therefore, they care not whether they sell for ready money, or else upon trust to be paid at a day, and to have the most part in debts. But in so doing they never follow the credence of private men ; but the assurance or war¬ ranty of the whole city, by instruments and writings made in that behalf accordingly. When th e day of payment is come and expired, the city gathereth up the debt of the private debtors, and putteth it into the common box, and so long hath the use and profit of it, until the Utopians their creditors demand it. The most part of it, they never j ask. For that thing, which to them is no profit to take from other to whom it is profitable, they think it no right nor conscience. But if the case so stand, that they must lend part of that money to another people, then they require their debt; or when they have war. For the which purpose only, they keep at home all the treasure * What is here called “ madder, and purple-dyed fells ” is written thus in the original—“ cocci, et conchyliorum, vellerum,” &c., whic ^ conceive to be “ scarlet and purple colours, and skins of beasts. Burnet and Warner have unaccountably overlooked these words. UTOPIA, 273 which they have to be holpen and succoured by it, either in extreme jeopardies, or in sudden dangers. But especi¬ ally and chiefly to hire therewith, and that for unreasonable great wages, strange soldiers. For they had rather put strangers in jeopardy than their own countrymen : know¬ ing that for money enough, their enemies themselves many times may be bought and sold, or else, through treason, be set together by the ears among themselves. For this cause they keep an inestimable treasure ; but yet not as treasure. But so they have it, and use it, as, in goodfaith, I am ! ashamed to shew, fearing that my words shall not be 1 believed.* And this I have more cause to fear, for that I know how difficultly and hardly I myself would have believed another man telling the same, if I had not pre¬ sently seen it with mine eyes. For it must needs be, that, how far a thing is dissonant f and disagreeing from the guise and trade of the hearers, so far shall it be out of their belief. Howbeit, a wise and indifferent esteemer of things will not greatly marvel, perchance, seeing all their other laws and customs do so much differ from ours, if the use also of gold and silver among them, be applied rather to their own fashions than to ours. I mean, in that they occupy not money them¬ selves, but keep it for that chance, which, as it may happen, so it may be that it shall never come to pass. In the mean time, gold and silver, whereof money is made, they do so use, as none of them doth more esteem it than the very nature of the thing deserved. And then, who doth not plainly see how far it is under f * The translator Alsop places this marginal note opposite —“ O fine nvit ! ” t Johnson cites no authority so ancient as this for an illustration of the word “ dissonant.” + Inferior to. More afforded, in his own example, an excellent 274 UTOPIA. iron > as without the which, men can no better live than without fire and water. Whereas to gold and silver, nature hath given no use that we may not well lack : if that the folly of men had not set it in higher estimation for the rareness sake. But of the contrary part, nature, as a most tender and loving mother, hath placed the best and neces¬ sary things open abroad ; as the air, the water, and the earth itself: and hath removed, and hid farthest from us, vain and unprofitable things. Therefore, if these metals among them should be fast locked up in some tower, it might be suspected that the prince and the council (as the people is ever foolishly imagining) intended by some subtlety to deceive the commons, and to take some profit of it to themselves. Furthermore, if they should make thereof plate, and such other finely and cunningly wrought stuff—if at any time they should have occasion to break it, and melt it again, therewith to pay their soldiers wages,i they see and perceive very well, that men would be loath to part from those things that they once began to have plea¬ sure and delight in. To remedy all this, they have fount out a means, which as it is agreeable to all their other law. and customs, so is it from ours, where gold is so much s< by, and so diligently kept, very far discrepant and repug¬ nant : and therefore uncredible—but only to them that be wise. For whereas they eat and drink in earthen and glass vessels—which indeed be curiously and properly illustration of the above sentiments respecting the right use of money. No man before, or after him, ever resigned the seals or the chance or- ship with so scanty an income to live upon. “ All the lands which he ever purchased [says his great grandson] being, as my uncle Rop well knew, not above the value of twenty marks by the year; and, after his debts paid, he had not, of my uncle’s own knowledge (his golden chain excepted), in gold and silver left him the worth of one hundred pounds.” More’s Life of his Great Grandfather, 4 to. edit, 249 . UTOPIA. 275 made, and yet be of very small value—of gold and silver they make chamber-pots, and other vessels that serve for most vile * uses ; not only in their common halls, but in every man’s private house. Furthermore, of the same metals they make great chains, fetters, and gyves, wherein they tie their bondmen. Finally, whosoever for any offence be infamed,f by their ears hang rings of gold : upon their fingers they wear rings of gold: and about their neck chains of gold : and, in conclusion, their heads be tied with gold. Thus by all means possible they procure to have gold and silver among them in reproach and infamy. And these metals, which other nations do as grievously and sorrowfully forego, as in a manner their own lives : if they should altogether at once be taken from the Utopians , no man there would think that he had lost the worth of one farthing! They gather also pearls by the sea side, and diamonds and carbuncles upon certain rocks, and yet they seek not for them : but by chance finding them, they cut and polish them ; and therewith they deck their young infants*^ Which, like as in the first years of their childhood they make much, and be fond and proud of such ornaments, so, when they be a little more grown in years and discretion, perceiving that none but children do wear such toys and trifles, they lay them away even of their own shamefast- ness,! without any bidding of their parents : even as our children, when they wax bigger, do cast away nuts, brooches, and puppets. Therefore these laws and customs, which be so far different from all other nations, how divers tiff* * This is one of the strongest satires ever written against gold; well might Alsop exclaim in the margin of his edition, “ O wonderful contumely of gold l ” t Subject to reproach or punishment. The word is used by Bacon and Milton. See Johnson in loc. % Shamefacedness . S 2 y 6 UTOPIA. -yfvr€^_. fantasies also and minds they do cause, did I never so plainly perceive as in the ambassadors of the Anemolians. These ambassadors came to Amaurote while I was there. And because they came to entreat of great and weighty matters, three citizens a-piece, out of every city, were come thither before them. But all the ambassadors of the next countries, which had been there before, and knew the fashions and manners of the Utopians among whom they perceived no honour given to sumptuous ap¬ parel, silks to be contemned, gold also to be infamed and reproachful—were wont to come thither in very homely and simple array. But the Anemolians , because they dwell far thence, and had very little acquaintance with them, hearing that they were all apparelled alike, and that very rudely and homely,* thinking them not to have the things which they did not wear; being therefore more proud than wise, determined in the gorgeousness of their apparel to represent very gods; and with the bright shining and glistering of their gay clothing, to dazzle the eyes of the silly poor Utopians . So there came in four ambassadors, with one hundred * More’s own private apparel was sufficiently “ rude and homely.” “ He used oftentimes to weare a sharp shirt of hayre next his skinne, which he never left off wholy; no, not when he was Lord Chancellour of England : which my grandmother on a time, in the heate of summer, (as he sate at supper single in his doublet and hose, wearing thereupon a plain shirt, without ruffe or collar,) chancing to espie, laught at, not being much sensible of suche kinde of spiritual exer¬ cises.” More’s Life of his Great Grandfather, 4to ed. 27. Hoddes- don’s Life, pp. 62,3. . The benevolent disposition of More was strongly evinced on this occasion : it seems that his favourite daughter, Margaret, (“ not ignorant of his custom,”) told him of her sister’s discovery, “and he,” (says Hoddesdon,) “ being sorry that she had seen it, presently amended it.” A little further we are told, that he caused the said favourite daughter, “ as need required, to wash the same shirt of hair.” UTOPIA. 277 servants, all apparelled in changeable colours : the most of them in silks : the ambassadors themselves (for at home in their own country they were noblemen) in cloth of gold, with great chains of gold, with gold hanging at their ears, with gold rings upon their fingers, with broches * and aiglets-)- of gold upon their caps, which glistered full of pearls and precious stones: to be short, trimmed and adorned with all those things which, among the Utopians , were either the punishment of bondmen, or the reproach of infamed persons, or else trifles for young children to play withall. Therefore it would have done a man good at his heart, to have seen how proudly they displayed their peacocks feathers, how much they made of their painted sheaths, and how loftily they set forth and advanced them¬ selves, when they compared their gallant apparel with the poor raiment of the Utopians. For all the people were swarmed forth into the streets. And on the other side, it was no less pleasure to consider how much they were deceived, and how far they missed of their purpose ; being contrary ways taken than they thought they should have been. For to the eyes of all the Utopians , except very few, (which had been in other coun¬ tries for some reasonable cause) all that gorgeousness of apparel seemed shameful and reproachful ; insomuch, that they most reverently saluted the vilest and most abject of them for lords : passing over the ambassadors themselves without any honour ; judging them, by their wearing of golden chains, to be bondmen. Yea, you should have seen children also, that had cast away their pearls and precious stones, when they saw the like sticking upon the ambassadors caps, dig and push their mothers under the * A broche “ seems to have signified originally the tongue of a buckle or clasp ; and from thence the buckle or clasp itself.” f “ A point or tag of a lace ”—from the French aiguillctte. 2 yS UTOPIA. sides,^* saying thus to them. “ Look, mother, how great a lubber doth yet wear pearls and precious stones, as though he were a little child again ! ” But the mother, yea, and that also in good earnest. « Peace, son (saith she), I think he be some of the ambas¬ sadors fools ! ” Some found fault at their golden chains, as to no use nor purpose, being so small and weak, that a bondman might easily break them ; and again so wide and large, that when it pleased him he might cast them off, and run away at liberty whither he would. But when the ambassadors had been there a day or two, and saw so great abundance of gold so lightly esteemed, yea in no less reproach, than it was with them in honour; and besides that, more gold in the chains and gyves of one fugitive bondman, than all the costly ornaments of them three was worth; they began to abate their courage, and for very shame laid away all that gorgeous array whereof they were so proud. And specially when they had talked familiarly with the Utopians , and had learned all their fashions and opinions.f For they marvel that any men be so foolish as to have delight and pleasure in the doubtful glistering of a little trifling stone, which may behold any of the stars, or else the sun itself. Or that any man is so mad as to count himself the nobler for the smaller or finer thread of wool, * « Compellare matrem, ac latus fodere,”— 1 “ call to their mothers, push them gently,” say Burnet and Warner; but the action is more forcibly described in the old translation. A child instinctively attac s its mother in this manner on any sudden emotion of joy or surprise. In the French translation it is tamely said : “ disoient a leurs meres en les poussant.” . , r ,, r + There is in no writer a finer passage, illustrative of the tolly oi mere wealth (unapplied to right uses), than the whole of this narrative relating to the Anemolian ambassadors. The irony is delicate yet keen; and the story well deserves the marginal annotation of its first printer, Froben : “ Elegantissima fabula ! ” UTOPIA. 279 which self-same wool (be it now never so fine spun thread) a sheep did once wear : and yet was she all that time no other thing than a sheep! They marvel also that gold, which of the own nature is a thing so unprofitable, is now among all people in so high estimation, that man himself, by whom, yea, and for the use of whom, it is so much set by, is in much less estimation than the gold itself. Inso¬ much that a lumpish blockhead churl, and which hath no more wit than an ass, yea and as full of naughtiness as of folly, shall have nevertheless many wise and good men in subjection and bondage, only for this—because he hath a great heap of gold ! Which if it should be taken from him by any tune, or by some subtle wile and cautel * of the law, (which no less than fortune doth both raise up the low, and pluck down the high), and be given to the most vile slave and abject drivel of all his household, then shortly after he shall go into the service of his servant, as an augmentation or overplus beside his money. But they much more marvel at and detest the madness of them which, to those rich men, in whose debt and danger they be not, do give almost divine honours, for none other consideration, but because they be rich !_and yet knowing them to be such niggish f penny-fathers, that they be sure, as long as they live, not the worth of one farthing of that heap of gold shall come to them. * A crafty ’way to deceive 1 Minshew. t I he expression “ penny-worths ” was common in the 17th cen¬ tury, to denote, sometimes closeness and sometimes liberality. In the latter sense Quarles uses it, speaking of the Deity—“ bountiful penny-worths at his hand.” See his Judgment and Mercy, &c. CHAPTER VII. education, Xearmng, 0l)tloso^ p!)tcal Dpinton#, etc* HESE and such like opinions have they con¬ ceived, partly by education (being brought up in that common-wealth, whose laws and customs be far different from those kinds of folly,) and partly by good literature and learning. For though there be not many in every city which be exempt and discharged of all other labours, and appointed only to learning—that is to say, such in whom, even from their very childhood, they have perceived a singular towardness, a fine wit, and a mind apt to good learning — yet, all in their childhood be instructed in learning. And the better part of the people, both men and women, throughout all their whole life, do bestow in learning those spare hours, which we said they have vacant from bodily labours. They be taught learning in their o wn natiy e^tongue :* for it is both copious in words, and also pleasant to the ear; and for the utterance of a man's mind, very perfect and sure. The most part of all that * A specimen of the Utopian language and the characters of the alphabet is given at the end of the volume. UTOPIA. f 281 side of the world useth the same language, saving that among the Utopians it is finest and purest; and according to the diversity of the countries, it is diversly altered. Of all these philosophers, whose names be here famous in this part of the world to us known, before our coming thither, not as much as the fame of any of them was come among them. And yet in music, logic, arithmetic, and geometry, they have found out, in a manner, all that our ancient philosophers have taught. But as they in all things be almost equal to our old and ancient clerks,* * so our new logicians, in subtle inventions, have far passed and gone beyond them. For they have not devised one of all those rules of restrictions, amplifications, very wittily invented in the small logicals which here our children in every place do learrh Furthermore, they were never yet able to find out the second inventions ; insomuch that none of them could ever see man himself in common, as they call him, though * “ Clerk ” was the common term for a 'well informed person, and is the contraction of “ clericus,” a clergyman : most situations of talent or trust being formerly filled by the clergy. See Blackstone’s Com. vol. i. Introd. f More here ridicules the absurd system of education adopted in his own days; especially that part of it which related to logics and metaphysics. “ As the language of the philosophers of Greece and Rome came to be better understood, and their works more generally perused, the barbarous jargon, unintelligible subtleties, endless dis¬ tinctions, and ponderous works of the schoolmen, came to be neg¬ lected and despised. The commissioners who were appointed to visit the University of Oxford, A. D. 1535, (seventeen years after More’s Utopia was published), wrote thus to the Lord Cromwell: “We have set Dunce \_Duns Scotus ] in Bocardo, and have utterly banished him Oxford for ever, with all his blind glosses; and he is now made a common servant to every man, fast nailed up upon posts in all common houses of easment. The second time we came to New College, after we had declared your injunctions, we found all the great quadrate court full of the leaves of Dunce, the wind blowing them into every corner.” See Henry’s Hist, of Gr. Br. vol. xii. 209. 282 UTOPIA. he be (as you know) bigger than ever was any giant; yea, and pointed to of us even with our finger. But they be in the course of the stars, and the movings of the heavenly spheres, very expert and cunning. They have also wittily excogitated and devised instruments of divers fashions ; wherein is exactly comprehended and contained the movings and situations of the sun, the moon, and of all the other stars, which appear in their horizon. But as for the amities and dissentions of the planets, and all that deceitful divination * of the stars, they never as much as dreamed thereof. Rains, winds, and other courses of tem¬ pests, they know before by certain tokens, which they have learned by long use and observation. But of the causes of all these things, and of the ebbing and flowing, and saltness of the sea ; and finally, of the original beginning, and nature of heaven and of the world, they hold partly the same opinions that our old philosophers hold ; and partly, as our philosophers vary among themselves, so they also, while they bring new reasons of things, do disagree from all them, and yet among themselves in all points they do not accord. In that philosophy, which intreateth of manners and virtuef their reasons and opinions agree with ours. The y dispute of the good qualities of the soul, of the body, and of fortune : and whether the name of goodness may be * Astrology is here censured. How much it was the favourite study of our ancestors in the 16th century, may be seen from the hundreds of black-letter volumes which were published upon the subject. Bishop Hall has severely lashed it in his Satires : “ Some doting gossip ’mongst the Chaldee wives Did to the credulous world thee first derive; And Superstition nurs’d thee ever sence, And publisht in profounder art’s defence,” Virgidemiarum , b. 1 1, sat. vii. f Moral philosophy , as Burnet properly translates it. UTOPIA. 283 applied to all these, or only to the endowments and gifts of the soul. They reason of virtue * and pleasure. But the chief and principal question is, in what thing, be it one or more, the felicity of man consisteth. But in this point they seem almost too much given and inclined to the opinion of them which defend pleasure: wherein they determine either all, or the chiefest part, of man’s felicity to rest.* And (which is more to be marvelled at) the defence of this so dainty and delicate an opinion, they fetch even from their grave, sharp, bitter, and rigorous religion. For they never dispute of felicity or blessedness, but they join unto the reasons of philosophy certain prin¬ ciples taken out of religion : without the which, to the in¬ vestigation of true felicity, they think reason of itself weak and unperfect. Those principles be these and such like. That the so ul is immortal; a nd by the_ bountiful goodness of God, ordained to felicit y ; t hat to our virtues and good deeds, rewards be appointed after this life; and to ou r evil deeds, punishmen ts. Though these be pertaining to relig ion, yet they think it meet that they should be believed andj granted by proofs of reason. ( But if these principles were condemned and disannulled, then, without any delay, they pronounce no man to be so foolish which would not do all his diligence and endeavour to obtain pleasure, be it right or wrong; only avoiding this inconvenience, that * “ The author takes the side of Epicurus in this controversy, who considered happiness in itself and in its formal state, and not accord¬ ing to the relation it has to external beings; and in this view he asserted that the felicity of man consisted in pleasure. But pleasure was a word of an ill sound : those who were already corrupt in their morals made an improper use of it; which the enemies of his sect taking advantage of, the name of an Epicurean became obnoxious. But this was accidental to the doctrine ; and the author has illustrated it in the following pages, consonantly to our religion, and in a manner which does honour to the philosopher who promulged it.”— Warner. 284 UTOPIA. the less pleasure should not be a let or hindrance to the bigger: or that he laboured not for that pleasure, which would bring after it displeasure, grief, and sorrow. For the y judge it extreme madness to follow sha rp axid^ painful virtue, an d not only to banish the pleasu re of life, butfalscTwillingly to suffer g rief, witho ut any hope of profit thereof ensuing. For what profit can there be, if a man, when he hath passed over all his life unpleasantly, that is to say, miserably, shall have no reward after his death ? But now, Sir, they think noti eLldty to_rest in all pleasu re, but only in that pleasure that is g ood and honest; and that hereto, as to perfect blessedness, our nature is allured and drawn even of virtue, whereto only they that be of /the contrary opinion do attribute felicity. For th ey defi ne virtue to be life ordered according to nature, and that J be hereunto ordained of God and that he doth follow the v course of nature, which, in desiring and refusing things, is ] ruled by reason. Furthermore, the reason doth chiefly and j principally kindle in men the love and veneration of the*. * divine majesty. Of whose goodness it is that we be, and ^ that we be in possibility to attain felicity/ And that, secondarily, it both stirreth and provoketh us to lead our life out “J* of care, in joy and mirth ; and also moveth us to help and further all other, in respect of the society of nature, to obtain and enjoy the same. For there was never man so earnest and painful a follower of virtue and hater of pleasure, that would so enjoin your labours, watchings, and fastings, but he would also exhort you to * “ Cui debemus et quod sumus, et quod compotes esse felicitatis possumus.” “To whom we owe both all that we have, and all that we can ever hope for.” Burnet and Warner. f “ Free from.” The philosophical part of More’s Utopia is rather indifferently executed by our first English translator : in this depart¬ ment, Burnet has an evident superiority. UTOPIA. 285 _ease, lighten,^relieve to thejutmost of your power, the lack and misery of ot her§_^_ praising the same as a deed of h umanity and p ity. Then if it be a point of humanity^ for man to bring health and comfort to man, and specially (which is a virtue most peculiarly belonging to man) to mitigate and assuage the grief of others , and by taking fiom them the sorrow and heaviness of life to restore them to joy, that is to say to pleasure, may it not then be said, that nature doth provoke every man to do the same to himself f For a joyful life, that is to say, a pleasant life, is either evil and if it be so, then thou shouldst not only help no man thereto, but rather as much as in thee lieth, withdraw all men from it, as noisome and hurtful—or else, if thou not only must, but also of duty art bound to procure it to others, why not chiefly to thyself? to whom Vi { wn thou art bound to shew as much favour and gentleness as to other ! E2L -When nature biddeth th ee to be good and ge ntle to other, she commandeth thee not to be cruel and ungentle to thys elf. Therefore even very nature (say tKey)^rescribeth~to us a joyful life, that is to say, pleasure, as the end of all our operations. And they define virtue to be life ordered according to the prescript of nature. But in that, that nature doth allure and provoke men, one to help another to live merrily* (which surely she doth If ever there was a decided foe to Melancholy, it was the learne, and witty author of this romance of Utopia; who seems to hav agreed with Bulled, that -Melancholy, that cold, dry, wretchei saturnine humor, creepeth in with a leane, pale, or swartysh colour W . ! C 1 r l lg r eth , UP ° n solltar y e > carefull-musyng men : whych humour at length, breedeth and bryngeth forth a terryble chylde called th< fever quarten , the same, if he bee not corrected and banished away v) e ys at er s death.” Bulwarke of Defence against all Sick- nesse, &c., 1579, p t. i v . fob 4. b. I subjom a curious passage from - Bright’s Treatise of Melan- ch>/y first published in 1586, in which the reader, if he enjoys not the merry life” recommended by our author, but is afflicted with 286 UTOPIA. hypochondriacal disorders, may probably discover something to cure him of his malady. “ If (says Dr. Bright) the melancholic man be of ability, the house would (should) not want ornament of picture, of gay and fresh colors; in such matter as shall be most pleasant and delightful. And of all ornaments of house and home, a pleasant garden, and hortyeard (orchard), with a lively spring, is above all domesticall delight, and meetest for the melancholy heart and brayne. His apparel would (should) be decent and comely; and, as the p«rse would give leave, somewhat, for the time, sumptuous; as also the whole household furniture belonging unto him; of color light, or changeable; except the place and gravity of the melancholy person refuseth colors. And heere, no kind of ornament would (should) be omitted which might entice the senses to delight, and allure the enclosed spirits to solace themselves. (As to) the outward parts of their bodies, here, brouches, chains, and rings may have good use; with such like ornament of jewel, as agreeth with the ability and calling of the melancholicke; and those not only curious and precious by art, but especially garnished with precious stones, that are said to have virtue against vain feares and basenesse of courage. Of which sort are these following ; the Carbuncle , for virtue the chief of stones : the Calcedonie , of power to put away feare and heavinesse of heart; a clearer of the spirits, and chaser away of fantasticall melancholy visions : the Ruble , available against fearfull dreames : the Jacint , a great cheerer of the heart, and procurer of favor : the Turcoyse, a comforter of the spirits : the Chrysophars , of like virtue : the Corneole , a mitigater of anger, and meet for melancholickes of the furious sort. Stones of baser sort, and yet of singular vertue, are the Chalydonie. or Swallow-stone, found in the mawes of young swallowes—against madnesse: and the Alectorian, or Cockes stone , of a waterie color, found in the maw of a cocke, or capon, after hee bee nine years olde —above all commended for giving strength and courage ! and where¬ with (as it is reported) the famous Milo-Crotonian always stood invincible. Thus have you the whole order of the melancholy dyet.” p. 320. 1. ed. 1613. The ingenious Burton, in his “ Anatomy of Melancholy has enlarged upon these hints of Bright, although he does not acknow¬ ledge his obligations to him. Whoever will be at the trouble of consulting Part ii. Sect. 4. Memb. 1. Subsect. 4, of the last folio edition of Burton, (1676) will see how it varies from the first folio of 1624; and will, in consequence, regret the omission of the notice of these variations in the octavo editions of Burton recently published. These latter might have been the most amusing octavo variorum editions of an English classic extant. UTOPIA. 287 of man’s state, or condition, that nature doth cark and care for him only, which equally favoureth all that be comprehended under the communion of one shape, form and fashion); verily she commandeth thee to use diligent circumspection, that thou do not seek for thine own com¬ modity, that which may procure others incommodity. * Wherefore their opinion is, that not only covenants and bargains made among private men ought to be well and faithfully followed, observed, and kept, but also common laws 5 which either a good prince hath justly published, or else the people, neither oppressed with tyranny, neither deceived by fraud and guile, hath by their common consent constituted and ratified; concerning the partition of the commodity of life, that is to say, the matter of pleasure. These laws not offended, it is wisdom that thou look to thine own wealth. And to do the same for the common¬ wealth is no less than thy duty, if thou barest any reverent love, or any natural zeal and affection, to thy native country. But to go about to let another man of his pleasure, while thou procurest thine own, that is open wrong. Contrary- wise, to withdraw something from thyself to give to other, that is a point of humanity and gentleness, which never taketh away so much commodity, as it bringeth again. Bor it i s recompensed with the return of benefits ; a nd the conscience of the good deed, with the remembrance of the thankful lo ve and bei pemknc&^ thou hast done i t, doth bring more pleasure to thy mind, than that * The foregoing passage, obscurely expressed by Robinson, is thus forcibly given in the French translation: “ En effet, aucun individu n’est tellement au-dessus du sort de notre espece, que la nature n’ait soin que de lui : comme elle nous produit tous de la mcme figure, elle nous entretient aussi sans distinction, et sans partialite. Or, ce que cette meme nature vous ordonne le plus expressement, e’est de ne pas tant vous appliquer a votre bonheur, que vous procuriez le malheur des autres.” p. 183. 288 UTOPIA. which thou hast withholden from thyself could have brought to thy body. Finally (which to a godly disposed and a religious mind is easy to be persuaded), God recom- penseth the gift of a short and small pleasure with great and everlasting joy.* Therefore the matter diligently weighed and considered, thus they think that all our actions, and in them the virtues themselves, be* referred at the last to pleasure, as their end and felicity. Pleasure they call every motion and state of the body or mind, wherein man hath naturally delectation. Appetite they join to nature, and that not without a good cause. For like as, not only the senses, but also right reason coveteth whatsoever is naturally pleasant, so that it may be gotten without wrong or injury, not letting or debarring a greater pleasure, no r causing painful labour , even s o those things that men, by vain imagin ation do fain against nature’tcT be pleasant (as though it lay in their power to change the things, as they do the names of things), all such pleasures they believe to be of so small help and furtherance to felicity, that they count them a great let and hindrance. Because that in whom they have once taken place, all his mind they possess with a false opinion of pleasure. So that there is no place left for true and natural delectations. For there be many things which of their own nature contain no pleasantness; yea the most part of them much grief and sorrow; and yet, through the perverse and malicious flickering enticements of lewd and unhonest desires, they be taken not only for special and sovereign * “ Brevis et exiguae voluptatis vicem, ingenti ac nunquam interi¬ turo gaudio rependit Deus.” “And they are persuaded that God will make up the loss of those small pleasures with a vast and endless joy.” So Burnet and Warner; but not so faithful nor elegant as the above. UTOPIA. 289 pleasures, but also be counted among the chief causes o life. In this counterfeit kind of pleasure, they put them that I spake of ’before ; which the better gowns they have on, the better men they think themselves. In the which ( thing, they do twice err; for they be no less deceived in that they think their gown the better, than they be in that they think themselves the better. For if you consider the profitable use of the garment, why should wool of a finer spun thread be thought better than the wool of a coarse spun thread? Yet they, as though the one did pass the other by nature, and not by their mistaking, vaunt themselves, and think the price of their own persons thereby greatly increased. And there¬ fore the honour, which in a coarse gown they durst not have looked for, they require, as it were of duty, for their finer gown’s sake! And if they be passed without rever¬ ence, they take it displeasantly and disdainfully! And again, is it not alike madness to take a pride in vain and unprofitable honours ? For what natural or true pleasure dost thou take of another man’s bare head, or bowed knees ? will this ease the pain of thy knees, or remedy the phrensy of thy head ? In this image of counterfeit pleasure, they be of marvellous madness, which for the opinion of nobility, rejoice much in their own conceit,* because it was their * More literally practised what he preached. No man ever had a deeper-rooted contempt of those honours attached to nobility which consist in mere outward form, pomp, and ceremony. “ He exercised actes of humilitie that he made most worldlie men to wonder at him. On the Sunnedaies even, ivhen he zvas Lord Chancellour, he wore a surplice, and soung with the singers at the high masse and matins in his parish church at Chelsey; which the Duke of Norfolk on a time finding, sayd “ God hodie, God hodie, my Lord Chancellour a parish Clarke ! you disgrace the king, and your office ! ” “ Nay,” sayd Sir Thomas, smiling, “Your Grace may not thinke I dishonour my prince in my dutiefulnesse to his Lord and ours!” Gr. Grandson s Life, 8vo. edit, p, 1*9. 290 UTOPIA. fortune to come of such ancestors, whose stock of long time had been counted rich, (for now nobility is nothing else,) specially rich in lands, and though* their ancestors left them not one foot of land, or else they themselves have p—d it against the walls, yet they think themselves not the less noble therefore of one hair! In this number also they count them that take pleasure and delight (as I said) in gems and precious stones, and think themselves almost gods, if they chance to get an excellent one, specially of that kind which, in that time, of their own countrymen, is had in highest estimation. For one kind of stone keepeth not his price still in all countries, and at all times. Nor they buy them not, but taken out of the gold and bar; no, nor so neither, until they have made the seller to swear that he will warrant and assure it to be a true stone and no counterfeit gem. Such care they take lest a counterfeit stone should deceive their eyes instead of a right stone. But why shouldest thou not take even as much pleasure in beholding a coun¬ terfeit stone, which thine eyes cannot discern from a right stone ? They should both be of like value to thee, even as to a blind man. What shall I say of them that keep superfluous riches, to take delectation only in the beholding, and not in the use or occupying thereof? Do they take true pleasure, or else be they deceived with false pleasure ? Or of them that be in a contrary vice—hiding the gold which they shall neither occupy, nor peradventure never see him more: and whilst they take care lest they shall lose, do lose it indeed ! For what is it else, when they hide it in the ground, taking it both from their own use, and perchance fiom all other mens also ? And yet thou, when thou hast hid thy treasure, as one out of all care, hopest for joy; the which treasure, if it should chance to be stolen, and thou, UTOPIA. 291 ignorant of the theft, shouldst die ten years after: all that ten years thou livedst, after thy money was stolen, what matter was it to thee, whether it had been taken away, or else safe as thou left it ? Truly both ways like profit came to thee! To these so foolish pleasures they join Dicers, whose madness they know by hearsay and not by use. Hunters also and Hawkers.* * Hawking was the favourite amusement of our English ancestors till the close of the 17th century; it was revived a little in the eigh¬ teenth, and is still occasionally practised by gentlemen in the north of England. [See an amusing account of this diversion in Mr. C. Dibdin’s Tour through England and Scotland, 4to. 2 vols. 1802.] Its antiquity is remote : the royal falconer was an officer of high dignity in the Grecian court of Constantinople, at an early period : and the Emperor Andronicus Palseologus, the younger, kept more than one thousand and four hundred hawks, with almost as many men to take care of them. Julius Firmicus, who wrote about the year -55 is the first Latin author who mentions hawking, or has even used the word {Falco.) A charter of Kenulf, king of the Mercians, granted to the Abbey of Abingdon, and dated 821, pro¬ hibits all persons carrying hawks or falcons, to trespass on the lands of the monks. See Dugd. Uonast. Anglicanum, vol. i. 100. So sacred was this bird esteemed, that it was forbidden in a code of Charlemagne’s laws,f for any one to give his hawk or his sword as part of his ransom. [Our head-piece at p. 280 contains a representa¬ tion of a gentleman of the 15th century following this sport : it is ex¬ actly copied from a French Book of Hours, printed by Pigouchet, 1502.] In the feudal times, and long afterwards, no gentleman appeared * The extreme jealousy with which our legislature watched any infraction of the laws relating to hawking and falconry , may be seen in the confirmation of the Forest Laws by Hen. III. also by the 34th of Edw. III. and the nth of Hen. VII. from which the reader will find some amusing extracts by Strutt ; without being under the necessity of consulting the formidable volumes of Ruffhead or Runnington. It would seem, from the first mentioned authority, that Henry the Eighth had liked to have paid dear for his passion for hawking , “ for ” (says Hall) “ on a time, as the kynge following his hauke (on foot) he attempted to leap over a ditche, with a pole, and the pole brake : so that if one Edmond Mody, a foteman, had not lept into the water, and lift up his hede, which was fast in the clay, he had been drowned : but God of his goodness preserved him. Manners and Customs of the English, vol ii. 90. —iii. 124, 125. T 292 UTOPIA. For what pleasure is there (say they) in casting the dice upon a table, which thou hast done so often, that if there were any pleasure in it, yet the oft use might make thee weary thereof? Or what delight can there be, and not rather displeasure, in hearing the barking and howling of dogs ? Or what greater pleasure is there to be felt when a dog followeth an hare , than when a dog followeth a dog ? For one thing is done in both, that is to say, running, if thou hast pleasuie therein ? But if the hope of slaughter, on horseback (unless going to battle) without an hazuk on his fist: this was always considered a mark of great nobility.* In the tapestry of the Norman Conquest, Harold is exhibited on horseback with a hawk on his fist, and his dogs going before him, on an embassy from King Edward the Confessor to William Duke of Normandy. In the year 1337, the bishop of Ely excommunicated certain persons for stealing a hazyk, sitting on her perch, in the cloisters of the abbey of Bermondsey in Southwark. Consult the amusing notes of T. Warton, in his History of English Poetry, vol. i. 166. vol. ii. 221. The favourite works upon Falconry , in the 16th and 17th centuries, were the Treatises by Tuberville and Latham; but I cannot discover in the volumes of Sir J. Hawkins, or Dr. Burney, or in the ancient ballads of Dodsley, Percy, Evans, and Ritson, [8vo. 1783.fi J 790, 1791.] any Song upon this popular subject. The only one’is probably by Thomas Forde, which, however is not to be found in the collection of this poet’s writings. See Mr. Ford’s (of Manchester) curious catalogue of books, 8vo. 1807. No. 776. The Huntsman, and the Angler, have each received numerous panegyrical strains, but the pleasures of falconry seem to have been celebrated only in prose. . What poets, however, have neglected, artists have embraced with avidity; and how well calculated the subject was for the canvas, the unrivalled pencil of Wouvermans has sufficiently shewn. ^ u n hawk he esteems the true burden of nobilitie, and is exceeding ambitious to seem delighted in the sport, and to have his fist glov’d with his jesses.” . See Micro-cosmographie, edit. 1664. p. 97. f This is an elegant publication in three crown 8vo. volumes ; decorated with vignettes, and illustrated with musical notes, and it has the recommenda¬ tion of excluding “every composition, however celebrated or however excellent, of which the slightest expression, or the most distant allusion, could have tinged the cheek of delicacy, or offended the purity of the chastest ear.” Pref. p. v. 0 * sic omnia ! All the above publications of Ritson are daily becoming rare. J & UTOPIA. 293 and the expectation of tearing in pieces the beast, doth please thee, thou shouldest rather be moved with pity to see a silly innocent hare murdered of a dog : the weak of the stronger; the fearful of the fierce; the innocent of the cruel and unmerciful. Therefore all this exercise of hunting , as a thing unworthy to be used of freemen, the Utopians have rejected to their butchers ; to the which craft (as we said before) they appoint their bondmen. For they count hunting the lowest, the vilest, and most abject part of butchery ; and the other parts of it moie profitable and more honest: as bringing much commodity, in that they kill beasts only for necessity. Whereas the hunter seeketh nothing but pleasuie of the silly and woeful beast’s slaughter and murder. The which pleasure in beholding death, they think doth rise in the very beasts, either of a cruel affection of mind, or else to be changed in continuance of time into cruelty, by long use of so cruel a pleasure. These, therefore, and all such like, which be innumerable, though the common sort of people doth take them for pleasures, yet they, seeing there is no natural pleasantness in them, do plainly determine them to have no affinity with true and right pleasure. For as touching that they do commonly move the sense with delectation (which seemeth to be a work of pleasure) this doth nothing diminish their opinion. For not the nature of the thing, but their perverse and lewd custom is the cause hereof. Wliich causeth them to accept bitter or sower things for sweet things. Even as women with child in their vitiate and corrupt taste, think pitch and tallow sweeter than honey. Howbeit, no man’s judgment de¬ praved and corrupt, either by sickness, or by custom, can * Our author means that the dogs, from the habit of killing what they pursue, contract a love of cruelty which sometimes may not be natural to them. 294 UTOPIA. change the nature of pleasure, more than it can do the nature of other things. They make divers kinds of pleasures. For some they attribute to the soul, and some to the body. To the soul they give intelligence, and that delectation that cometh of the contemplation of truth. Hereunto is joined the plea¬ sant remembrance of the good life past.* The pleasure of the body they divide into two parts. The first is, when delectation is sensibly felt and perceived, which many times chanceth by the renewing and refreshing of those parts which our natural heat drieth up. This cometh by meat and drink. And sometimes while those things be expulsed and voided, whereof is in the body over great abundance. This pleasure is felt when we do our natural easement; or when we be doing the act of generation ; or when the itching of any part is eased with rubbing or scratching. Sometimes pleasure ariseth, exhibiting to either member nothing that it desireth, nor taking from it any pain that it feeleth ; which nevertheless tickleth and moveth our senses with a certain secret efficacy, and with a manifest motion, turneth them to it : as is that which cometh of music. The second part of bodily pleasure, they say, is that which consisteth and resteth in the quiet and upright state of the body. And that truly is every man s own proper health, intermingled and disturbed with no grief. For this, if they be not letted nor assaulted with grief, is delectable of itself, though it be moved with no external or outward pleasure. For though it be not so plain and manifest to the sense as the*|* greedy lust of * All the old translators had omitted the concluding part of the sentence: “ et spes non dubia futuri boni.” Burnet properly tran¬ slates it ff and the assured hopes of a future happiness.’ 5 t fhe old translation is here very powerful. “ Tumida illa edendi bibendique libido,” says More. Burnet and Warner have omitted this passage. UTOPIA. 295 eating and drinking, yet nevertheless, many take it foi the chiefest pleasure. All the Utopians grant it to be a right sovereign pleasure; and as you would say, the foun¬ dation and ground of all pleasures, as which even alone is able to make the state and condition of life delectable and pleasant. And it being once taken away, there is no place left for any pleasure. For to be without grief, not having health, that they call insensibility, and not pleasure. The Utopians have long ago rejected and condemned the opinion of them, which said, that steadfast and quiet health (for this question also hath been diligently debated among them) ought not therefore to be counted a pleasure; because they say it cannot be presently and sensibly per¬ ceived and felt by some outward motion. But of the contrary part, now they agree almost all in this, that HEALTH IS A MOST SOVEREIGN PLEASURE. For seeing that in sickness (say they) is grief, which is a mortal enemy to pleasure, even as sickness is to health, why should not then pleasure be in the quietness of health ? For they say it maketh nothing to this matter, whether you say that sickness is a grief, or that in sickness is grief, for all cometh to one purpose. For whether health be a pleasure itself, or a necessary cause of pleasure, as fire is of heat, truly both ways it followeth that they cannot be without pleasure that be in perfect health. Furthermore, whilst we eat, (say they), then health, which began to be appaired,* fighteth by the help of food against hunger. In the which fight, whilst health by little and little getteth the upper hand, that same pro¬ ceeding, and (as we would say) that onwardness to the wonted strength, ministereth that pleasure whereby we be so refreshed. Health, therefore, which in the conflict is joy¬ ful, shall it not be merry when it hath gotten the victory ? * For “impaired : ” the expression is used by Chaucer. 296 UTOPIA. But as soon as it hath recovered the pristinate strength, which thing only in all the fight it coveted, shall it inconti¬ nent be astonished ? Nor shall it not know nor embrace its own worth and goodness ? For where it is said health cannot be felt, this they think is nothing true. For what man waking, say they, feeleth not himself in health, but he that is not ? Is there any man so possessed with stonish insen¬ sibility, or with lethargy, that is to say, the sleeping sick¬ ness, that he will not grant health to be acceptable to him, and delectable ? But what other thing is delectation than that which, by another name, is called pleasure ? They embrace chiefly the pleasures of the MIND: for them they count the chiefest and most principal of all. The chief part of them they think doth come of the exer¬ cise of virtue, and conscience of good life. Of these pleasures that the body ministereth, they give the pre¬ eminence to health. For the delight of eating and drinking, and whatsoever hath any like pleasantness, they determine to be pleasures much to be desired, but no otherways than for health’s sake. For such things of their own proper nature be not so pleasant, but in that they resist sickness privily stealing on : therefore, like as it is a wise man’s part rather to avoid sickness, than to wish for medicines, and rather to drive away and put to flight careful griefs, than to call for comfort, so it is much better not to need this kind of pleasure, than thereby to be eased of the contrary grief. The which kind of pleasure, if any man take for his felicity, that man must needs grant that then he shall be in most felicity, if he live that life which is led in continual hunger, thirst, itching, eating, * drinking, * “God Almighty, (says the learned Bullein) hath ordayned t vine for the great comfort of mankind, to be taken moderately; but to be drunke with excesse, it is unwholsome and is poyson most venemous : it relaxeth the sinewes, bryngeth palsy, fallyng sicknesse : in olde « UTOPIA. 29 7 scratching, and rubbing! The which life, how not only foul and unhonest, but also how miserable and wretched it is, who perceiveth nut ? These doubtless be the basest pleasures of all, as unpure and unperfect. For they never come but accompanied with their contrary griefs. As with the pleasure of eating, is joined hunger, and that after no very equal sort: for of these two, the grief is both the more vehement and also of longer continuance. For it beginneth before the pleasure, and endeth not until the pleasure die with it. Wherefore such pleasures they think not greatly to be set by, but in that they be necessary. Howbeit, they have delight also in these, and thankfully knowledge the tender love of mother nature, which, with most pleasant delectation, allureth her children to them , to the necessary use whereof, they must from time to time continually be forced and driven. For how wi etched and miserable should our life be, if these daily griefs of hungei and thirst could not be driven away, but with bitter potions, and sour medicines, as the other diseases be, wherewith we be seldomer troubled ? But beauty, strength, nimbleness, these as peculiar and pleasant gifts of nature, they make much of. But those pleasures that be received by the ears, the eyes,-and the nose, which nature willeth to be proper and peculiar to man (for no other living creature doth behold the fairness and the beauty of the world, or is moved with any respect of savours, but only for the diver¬ sity of meats, neither perceiveth the concordant and dis¬ cordant distances of sounds and tunes) these pleasures, I v persons, hot fevers, frensies, fighting, lechery ; and a consuming of the lyver to the cholericke : and, generally there is no credence to be given to drunkardes although they be mighty men. It maketh men lykc to monsters, with countenaunce lyke to burning coales : it dis- honoureth noblemen, and beggereth poore men,” &c. Bulwarke of Defence, pt. 1. fol it. 298 UTOPIA. say, they accept and allow as certain pleasant rejoicings of life. But in all things this cautel * they use, that a less pleasure hinder not a bigger; and that the pleasure be no cause of displeasure, which they think to follow of neces¬ sity, if the pleasure be unhonest. But yet to despise the comeliness of beauty, to waste the bodily strength, to turn nimbleness into slothness, to consume and make feeble the body with fasting, to do injury to health, and to reject the pleasant motions of nature—unless a man neglect these commodities, while he doth with a fervent zeal pro¬ cure the wealth of others , or the common profit, for the which pleasure forborne, he is in hope of a greater pleasure at God’s hand f—else for a vain shadow of virtue, for the wealth and profit of no man , to punish himself, or to the intent he may be able courageously to suffer adversity, which perchance shall never come to him, this to do, they * Caution. But see page 279, ante. f More here alludes to penances and mortifications , which, consider¬ ing how severely he inflicted them on himself, he puts in a just and liberal point of view. “ When he was about eighteene or twentie yeares old, finding his bodie by reason of his yeares most rebellious, he sought diligently to tame his unbrideled concupiscence by wonderfull workes of mortification. Besides wearing a sharp shirt of hay re next his skin [see page 276, ante], he used also much fasting and watching, lying often either upon the bare ground, or upon some bench, or laying some log under his head, allotting himselfe but foure 01 five howres in a night at moste for his sleepe; imagining with the holie Saints of Christ’s church, that his bodie was to be used like an asse, with strokes and harde fare, least provender might pricke it,” &c. Gr. Grandson’s Life, 4to. edit. p. 28. To an Englishman of the present day, this appears a severe species of penance and mortification, and barely practicable : but it should be remembered that feather beds and hair mattrasses were hardly known in More s time, and that our good forefathers were contented with very moderate fare in regard to the luxuries of the bed. « Our fathers, yea, and we ourselves also (says Harrison), have lien full oft upon straw pallets, or rough mats, covered only with a sheet, under coverlets made of dagsivain or hopharlots (shreds, patched materials), and <7 good round log under their heads, instead of a bolster or pillow. I UTOPIA. 299 think it a point of extreme madness, and a token of a man cruelly minded towards himself, and unkind towards nature, as one so disdaining to be in her danger, that he renounceth and refuseth all her benefits. This is their sentence and opinion of virtue and pleasure. And they believe that by man’s reason none can be found truer than this, unless any godlier be inspired into man from heaven. Wherein whether they believe well or no, neither the time doth suffer us to discuss, neither is it now necessary. For we have taken upon us to shew and declare their lores and ordinances, and not to defend them. But this thing I believe verily, howsoever these decrees be, that there is in no place of the world, neither a more excellent people, neither a more flourishing common-wealth. They be light and quick of body, full of activity and nimbleness, and of more strength than a man would judge them by their stature, which for all that is not too low. If it were so that our fathers, or the good man of the house, had, within seven years after his marriage, purchased a mattrass or flock- bed, and thereto a sack of chaff to rest his head upon, he thought himself to be as well lodged as the lord of the town ! that, peradven- ture, lay seldom in a bed of down, or whole feathers.” Prefixed to Holinshed’s Chronicles, p. 188. * The whole of this is in a fine strain of thought and expression ; and although the translation of Robinson be probably more defective in the philosophical parts of this romance, yet is the above very beautifully and faithfully composed. The advice which the pious and skilful Bullein gives us, is in no respect inferior to More’s. “ Let us (sayS he) see that each of us doe walke in such callyng in this lyfe, that we may be necessarye members, one unto another, in the common wealth ; to profit each other, and hurt nobody. To travaile for the fruites of the earth, or any other riches, gotten by honest pollicy; and after to spend them accordingly. By providing for ourselves against the tyme of adversity. To obey rulers, and pity the poore; to do as we would be done unto; to despyse a wicked life; and feare no kynde of trouble it shall please God to lay upon us. This is the summe of Christen religion , of an honest lyfe, and of a happy end.” See his Bulwarke, &c. pt. iv, fo. 30. i 3oo UTOPIA. And though their soil be not very fruitful, nor their air very wholesome, yet against the air, they so defend them with temperate diet and so order and husband their ground with diligent travail, that in no country is greater increase and plenty of corn and cattle, nor men’s bodies of longer life, and subject or apt to fewer diseases. There, therefore, a man may see well and diligently exploited and furnished, not only those things which husbandmen do commonly in other coun¬ tries, as by craft and cunning to remedy the barrenness of the ground, but also a whole wood by the hands of the people plucked up by the roots in one place, and set again in another place. Wherein was had regard and consideration, not of plenty, but of commodious carriage; that wood and timber might be nigher to the sea, or the rivers, or the cities. For it is less labour and business to carry grain far by land than wood. The people be gentle, merry, quick and fine witted,* delighting in quietness, and when need requireth, able to abide and suffer much bodily labour. Else they be not greatly desirous and fond of it: but in the exercise and study of the mind, they be never weary. When they had heard me speak of the Greek literature or learning (for in Latin there was nothing that I thought they would greatly allow, besides histories and poets) they made wonderful earnest and importunate suit unto me, that I would teach and instruct them in that tongue and learning. I began therefore to read unto them at the first truly more because I would not seem to refuse the labour, than that I hoped that they would anything profit therein. But when I had gone forward a little, I perceived incontinent by their diligence, that my labour should not be bestowed in vain. For they began so easily to fashion their letters, On the authority of Erasmus, we are told that Dean Colet thought More “ the only ivit in the island ” See Knight’s Life of Colet, p. 39. UTOPIA. 301 so plainly to pronounce the words, so quickly to learn by heart, and so surely to rehearse the same, that I marvelled at it; saving that the most part of them were fine and chosen wits, and of ripe age, picked out of the company of learned men, which not only of their own free and volumaiy will, but also by the commandment of the council, undertook to learn this language. Therefore, in less than three years space, there was nothing in the Greek tongue that they lacked. They were able to read good authors * without any stay, * More’s fondness for books, and for the encouragement of learning, was strikingly shown in the Education of his Children : perhaps no man ever enjoyed a more rational yet polished domestic society. Of this do¬ mestic circle, his daughter Margaret, was deservedly the favourite ; indeed, if we are to judge from the uniform evidence of contemporary writers, the father had great reason to love and admire such a daughter. “ This lady,” says Mr. Lewis, in his preface to More’s Life by Rooper, p. 4. had all the advantages that could arise from great natural parts and very fine learning; she was a perfect mistress of the Greek and Latin tongues, and of all sorts of music, besides her skill in arith¬ metic and other sciences. For thus we are assured by a very learned friend of Sir Thomas, that he took a great deal of care to have his children instructed in the liberal disciplines or sciences; so that the fine things said of her, and to her, by the greatest men of that age and since, were more than compliments and words of course. For a more particular account of her, see the commencement of this vol., p. 24. “ Fuit ejus domus,” says Erasmus, “ schola et gymnasium Christi- anse religionis.” “The tutors of More’s children were John Clement, who was afterwards a Greek professor at Oxford; William Gonellus, (or Gunnell), afterwards distinguished at Cambridge; Ricard Hertius; one Drus; and one Nicholas,” says Stapleton. Vit. Mori. 221, 2. More’s letter to Gonellus, (or Gunnell) concerning the education of his children, (which Stapleton has extracted, p. 224,) is full of curious information, and great tenderness of sentiment. Most of the learned men of that day, Erasmus, Ludovicus Vives, and Grynseus, celebrated the school of More. “ Erasmus, from whom we derive these particulars, and who was often an inmate of that delightful society, greatly captivated with the easy manners, the animated conversation, the extraordinary accom¬ plishments of More’s daughters, could not help owning himself a com¬ plete convert to More’s sentiments of Female Education. Yet while 302 UTOPIA. if the book were not false. This kind of learning, as I suppose, they took so much the sooner, because it is some¬ what alliant to them : for I think that this nation took their beginning of the Greeks, because their speech, which in all other points is not much unlike the Persian tongue, keepeth divers signs and tokens of the Greek language in the names of their cities, and of their magistrates. They have of me (for when I was determined to enter into my fourth voyage, I cast into the ship, in the stead of merchandize, a pretty fardle* of books, because I intended to come again rather nev^r +han shortly), they have, I say, of me, the most part of Plato's works, more of Aristotle’s , also Theophrastus of plants, but in divers places (which I am sorry for) unperfect. For, whilst they were a ship-board, a marmosetf chanced he admired their improvement, and shared in the pleasures it diffused, he could not help remarking one day to his friend how severe a calamity it would be, if, by any of those fatalities to which the human race is liable, such accomplished beings, whom he had so painfully and suc¬ cessfully laboured to improve, should happen to be snatched away ! “ If they are to die/’ replied More, without hesitating, I would rather have them die %veil informed , than ignorant A “ This reply,” con¬ tinues Erasmus, “ reminded me of a saying of Phocion, whose wife, as he was about to drink the poison according to his sentence, exclaimed, “ Ah ! my husband, you die innocent ! ” “ And would you, my wife,” he rejoined, “ rather have me die guilty ? ” J Macdiarmid, Lives of British Statesmen, p. 32. * Bundle: “in consideration whereof, I have boldened myselfe to lay this far dell on my weake shoulders,” &c. Theatre of the World, Boyastuau to the Reader, p. 11. “ Afardle of poesies ” was a common expression in the 16th century. . t A small monkey . It is not 1 very improbable but that something similar to what is mentioned above of the “ marmoset” was goingfor- ward under More s eye at the time he was writing the passage : for Erasmus says he was f fond of contemplating the figure, dispositions, and affections of different kinds of animals; and, for that purpose kept in his house not only all kinds of birds, but also apes , foxes, ferrets, &c. &c. See Epist. ad Huttenum, inter Lucubrat. Mori, p. S02. Basil, edit. 1563. + Erasm. Epist. 605. UTOPIA. 303 upon the book, as it was negligently laid by, which wan¬ tonly playing therewith, plucked out certain leaves and tore them in pieces. Of them that have written the grammar, they have only Lascaris * For Theodorus I carried not with me, nor never a dictionary, but Hesychius and Dioscondes. They set great store by Plutarch!s books ; and they be delighted with Lucian's merry conceits and jests. Of the poets they have Aristophanes , Homer , Euripides and Sopho¬ cles in Aldus' small print. Of the historians they have Thucydides , Herodotus , and Herodian . Also my companion Tricius Apinatus carried with him physic books, certain i small works of Hippocrates , and Galen's Microtechne y the which book they have in great estimation : + for though there be almost no nation under heaven that hath less need of physic than they, yet this notwithstanding, physic is no where in greater honour : because they count the knowledge of it among the goodliest and most profitable parts of philo¬ sophy. For whilst they, by help of this philosophy, search out the secret mysteries of nature, they think themselves to receive thereby not only wonderful great pleasure, but also to obtain great thanks and favour of the Author and maker thereof: whom they think, according to the fashion of other artificers, to have set forth the marvellous and gorgeous * The Greek grammar of Lascaris was published in a small 4to vol¬ ume in 1476 : this book is remarkable for being the first Greek volume ever printed. Of the best editions of the remaining principal authors above mentioned, the reader will find some account in my “ Introduc¬ tion, &c. to the Greek and Latin Classics,” 3d edit. 1808. f It is a little remarkable that More does not, either directly, or in¬ directly, allude to the works of his countrymen : probably he thought with Ascham, that in them nothing would be read “ but books of fayned chevalrie, wherein a man by reading should be led to none other ende, but onely to manslaughter and baudrye,” &c. Prefatory address to the Toxophilus , p. 57. Bennet’s edit. In his Schoolmaster , Ascham is very sparing in his commendation of English writers ; he notices, however, Cheke and Surrey with deserved applause. 304 UTOPIA. frame of the world for man to behold. Whom only he hath made of wit and capacity to consider and understand the excellency of so great a work.* And therefore he beareth (say they) more good will and love to the curious and diligent beholder, and viewer of his work and marvellour at the same, than he doth to him, which like a very brute beast, without sence or reason, or as one without sence or moving, hath no regard to so great and wonderful a spectacle. The wits therefore of the Utopians inured and exercised in learning, be marvellous quick in the invention of feats, helping anything to the advantage and wealth of life. Howbeit, two feats they may thank us for. That is the science of imprinting,-f* and the craft of making paper.J And yet not only us, but chiefly and principally themselves : * Most readers will recollect a similar, but greatly superior, passage in Shakspeare’s Hamlet—“from this goodly frame, the earth,”—to the conclusion of the speech. Act ii. sc. 2. f The art of printing is supposed to have been discovered by Gut- tenberg, at Strasburg, about the year 1450 : but there is no direct evidence of any book being printed with metal types before the Psalter of 1457. The attempts of Guttenberg were confined only to ’wooden blocks. [The celebrated Gutenberg Bible (formerly styled the “Mazarine Bible” ) was certainly printed with moveable types, and is now known to have been printed before 1457, most probably between 1450 and 1455. This noble volume, and the Psalter printed by Fust and Schoiffher in 1457, almost the earliest productions of the printing press, yet remain unsurpassed in beauty of workmanship. Before ventur¬ ing on so large an undertaking as the printing of the Bible, it is reasonable to suppose that preliminary trials of the type, ink, &c., were made on smaller books, probably school books, which have perished. It is almost impossible the workmanship of the Bible could have been so regular and beautiful, unless the printers had previously had some practice in the art.] J The art of making paper with linen rags is supposed to have been discovered in the nth century, though Father Mabillon thinks it was in the 12th. Montfaucon acknowledges that he has not been able to meet with a single leaf of paper with a date anterior to the death of St. Lewis in 1270. UTOPIA. 305 for when we showed to them Aldus his print in books of paper, and told them of the stuff whereof paper is made, and of the feat of graving letters, speaking somewhat more than we could plainly declare, (for there was none of us that knew perfectly either the one or the other), they forthwith very wittingly conjectured the thing. And whereas before, they wrote only on skins, upon barks of trees, and reeds, now they have attempted to make paper, and to imprint letters : and though at the first it proved not all of the best, yet by often assaying the same, they shortly got the feat of both ; and have so brought the matter about, that if they had copies of Greek authors, they could lack no books. But now they have no more than I rehearsed before, saving that by printing of books, they have multiplied and increased the same into many thousands of copies. Whosoever cometh thither to see the land, being excellent ^ in any gift of wit, or through much and long journeying well experienced and seen in the knowledge of many coun¬ tries, (for the which cause we were very welcome to them) him they receive, and entertain wondrous gently and lovingly: for they have delight to hear what is done in every land. Howbeit, very few merchant men come thither. For what should they bring thither, unless it were iron, or else gold and silver, which they had rather carry home again ? Also such things as are to be carried out of their land, they think it more wisdom to carry that geer* forth themselves, than that other should come thither to fetch it, to the intent they may the better know the outlands on every side of them, and keep in use the feat and knowledge of sailing. * Stuffs , goods, riches —ornaments, dress, habit, &c. See Ash’s Dictionary, where it is said to be put for “ gear.” This latter word is used by Spenser, Shakspeare, and Milton : vide Johnson’s Dictionary, where it is copiously illustrated. In the original Latin there is no cor¬ respondent word to “ geer.” J 30 6 UTOPIA. *** I take this Opportunity of correcting an error, into which an ob¬ servation at p. 303 (note) may lead the reader, respecting the not finding of English Works in the island of Utopia. Hythloday, as a foreigner, could not be supposed to know of any; and the remote situation of the islanders rendered a communication with this country barely pos¬ sible. Moreover, we may conjecture that scarcely any but Caxton’s quaint publications were then known in English print. Chaucer was probably considered as a flower of too young and delicate a growth to be transplanted in the soil where Aristotle and Theophrastus grew. • CHAPTER VIII. 4Df £>tx*mt8, Sln^altDg, anD of Vantage, etc.* HEY neither make Bondmen of prisoners taken in battle, unless it be in battle that they fought themselves, nor of bondmen’s children; nor, to be short, of any such as they can get out of foreign countries, though he were yet there a bondman. But either such as among themselves for heinous offences be punished with bondage, or else such as in the cities of other lands for great trespasses, be con¬ demned to death. And of this sort of bondmen they have most store. For many of them they bring home sometimes, paying very little for them, yea most commonly getting them for gramercy.f These sorts of bondmen they keep not only in continual work and labour, but also in bands. But their own men they handle hardest, whom they judge more desperate, and to have deserved greater punishment, because they, being so godly brought up to virtue in so excellent a * This is one of the most singular and amusing chapters of the whole work ; and admits of much more curious and ample illustration than 1 have been able to bestow upon it. t i. e. Grand merci , great thanks ; in the original it is “ gratis.” U I 3o8 UTOPIA. common-wealth, could not for all that be refrained from misdoing.* Another kind of bondmen they have, when a vile drudge, being a poor labourer in another country, doth choose of his own free will to be a bondman among them. These they intreat and order honestly, and entertain almost as gently as their own free citizens, saving that they put them to a little more labour, as thereto accustomed. If any such be disposed to depart thence, (which seldom is seen) they neither hold him against his will, nor send him away with empty hands. The Sick (as I said) they see to with great affection, and let nothing at all pass, concerning either physic or good diet, whereby they may be restored again to their health. Such as be sick of incurable diseases, they comfort with sitting by them, and, to be short, with all manner of helps that may be. But if the disease be not only uncurable, but also full of continual pain and anguish, the priests and the magistrates exhort the man, seeing he is not able to do any duty of life, and by overliving his own death, is noisome and irksome to other and grievous to himself, that he will determine with himself no longer to cherish that pestilent and painful disease. And seeing his life is to him but a torment, that he will not be unwilling to die, but rather to take a good hope to him, and either dispatch himself-\ out * There is wisdom and justice in this observation ; and the Utopians deserve great commendation for the above excellent regulations. The punishment inflicted upon individuals should always be in proportion to the opportunities they have had of enlightening their minds, and of knowing good from evil. The grossly ignorant man may be expected to err j but the carefully instructed one should shun error : “we knoTV good things, happy are we if we do them ” (says the Gospel of Christ). f " How our author came to take up this notion, both so unphilo- sophical and so irreligious, it is hard to say. But that it was his own notion of this matter, even to the end of his life, is very evident; be¬ cause in one of his conversations with his daughter Roper in the Tower, he tells her, “ that if it had not been for his wife arid children, UTOPIA. 309 of that pain, as out of a prison, or a rack of torment, or whom he accounted the chief part of his charge, he would not have failed long before, to have closed himself in as strait a room as that, and straiter too.” With regard to the Utopians, he has exculpated the people from any crime in putting an end to their lives, as it is in submission to their priests and magistrates ; but why he makes them expound the will of God so absurdly on this article, he has given us no reason; and probably because he could give none. Even among them however he does not allow of suicide, at a man’s own caprice and humour, without the approbation of the priests and senate; to whom he gives an authority, not of putting miserable people to death to rid themselves of their calamities, but of consenting to that expedient, if they themselves desire it upon proper motives, and in proper circum¬ stances.”— Warner. The doctrine inculcated in this part of the Utopia is, in every re¬ spect, unworthy of its author; whose sentiments upon suicide will be found to be obscurely expressed in his “ Dyalogue of Comforte agaynst Tribulacion.” The following passage relating to a ’violent death, from the “ thyrd booke ” of this work, is very artfully managed. [The Dia- lugue is carried on between Vyncent the nephew, and Anthony the uncle.] “ Vyncent. No but he may dye hys naturali death, and escape that vyolent death; & then he saueth himself fro much payne, and so win- neth therewith much ease: for euermore a vyolente death is payne- full.— Anthony. Peraduenture he shall not auoyde a violent death therby : for god is without doubte displeased, & can bring him shortly to a death as vyolent by some other way. Howbeit, I see well that you reckon ; that whoso dyeth a natural death, dyeth like a wanton eue at his ease. You make me remember a man that was once in a galey subtill with vs on the sea : whiche while the sea was sore wrought, and the waues rose verye hygh, and he came neuer on the sea afore, and lay tossed hether and thether : the poore soule groned sore, and for payn he thought he would verye fayn be dead, and euer he wished : would god I were on lande, that I might dye in rest. The waues so troubled hym there, with tossing him vppe and down, too and fro, that he thoughte that trouble letted him to dye, because the waues wold not let him reste. But if he might geat once to land, he thoughte he shoulde then dye there euen at his ease.— Vyncent. Nay, vncle, this is no doubte, but that death is to euery mon paynefull. But yet is not the naturali death so paynfull as is the vyolent.— Anthony. By my trouth, cosin, me thinketh that the death which men calle com¬ monly naturali, is a vyolent death to euery man whome it fetcheth hence by force agaynst his will. And that is euery man, which, when he dyeth, is loth to dye, and fayn would yet liue longer if he might! ” — More’s Workes, 1557. p. 1256. UTOPIA. 310 , V ^ else suffer himself willingly to be rid out of it by other. And in so doing, they tell him he shall do wisely, seeing by his death he shall lose no commodity, but end his pain. And because in that act he shall follow the counsel of the priests, that is to say, of the interpreters of God’s will and pleasure, they shew him that he shall do like a godly and a virtuous man. They that be thus persuaded, finish their lives willingly, either with hunger, or else die in their sleep * without any feeling of death. But they cause none such to die against his will, nor do they use less diligence and attendance about him : believing this to be an honourable death. Else he that killeth himself before that the priests and the counsel have allowed-j- the cause of his death, him as unworthy either to be buried, or with fire to be consumed, they cast unburied into some stinking marsh. The woman is not married before she be eighteen years old. The man is four years elder before he marry. If either the man or the woman be proved to have actually offended before their marriage with another, the party that so hath trespassed is sharply punished ; and both the offenders be forbidden ever after in all their life to marry : unless the fault be forgiven by the prince’s pardon. Both the good man and good wife of the house, where that offence is com¬ mitted, as being slack and negligent in looking to their charge, be in danger of great reproach and infamy. That offence is so sharply punished, because they perceive that unless they be diligently kept from the liberty of this vice, * Is the taking of laudanum meant ? The author was a bad phy¬ siologist if he conceived the patient to suffer no pain : spasms and con¬ vulsions are most frequently the consequence of taking laudanum, before the unhappy victim is seized with total stupefaction. t It would seem, then, that the act of suicide is neither good nor bad unless committed with, or against, the consent of “ priests and the counsel : ” this is at least a very unphilosophical mode of arguing making other men’s feelings and reasonings the criterion of our own ! UTOPIA. 3 i i few will join together in the love of marriage, wherein all the life must be led with one, and also all the griefs and displeasures coming therewith, patiently be taken and born. Furthermore, in choosing wives and husbands, they observe earnestly and straightly a custom* which seemed to us very fond and foolish. For a grave and honest matron sheweth the woman, be she maid or widow, naked to the wooer: and likewise a sage and discreet man exhibiteth the wooer naked to the woman. At this custom we laughed, and disallowed it as foolish. But they, on the other part, do greatly wonder at the folly of all other nations, which in * “ Lord Bacon in his New Atlantis, takes notice of the custom men¬ tioned here, and objects to it as implying ‘a scorn to give refusal after so familiar a knowledge.’ But because of many hidden defects in men and women’s bodies, he establishes in his common-wealth, another which he calls ‘a more civil way ’— £ Near every town are a couple of pools, which they call Adam and Eve’s pools, where it is permitted to one of the friends of the man, and another of the friends of the wo¬ man to see them severally bathe * naked.’ ”— Warner. By whose suggestions, or from what incident. More has framed his lazv of marriage among the Utopians, it were now idle to conjecture : that it is ridiculous, indelicate, and unproductive of good, must be readily admitted. He himself entertained the highest sense of mar¬ riage, in a religious point of view, as may be seen by his answer to Tindal’s Preface, among his works, p, 378. Burton, the celebrated author of the Anatomy of Melancholy, fob edit. 1652, p. 627, tells us that “ Lycurgus appointed [the above custom] in his laws, and More in his Utopian commonwealth approves of it.” “ Francis Sforza,” continues he, “ Duke of Milan, was so curious in this behalf that he would not marry the Duke of Mantua’s daughter, except he might see her naked first. In Italy, as a traveller observes, if a man have three or four daughters, or more, and they prove fair, they are married eft- * Bacon was probably induced to substitute this law, from a recollection of its being the custom of our ancestors (as it is still at Berne) for the sexes some¬ times to bathe promiscuously . “ Wenceslaus, Emperor and King of Bohemia, who died in 1418, was much attached to the bathing-girl who attended him during his captivity, and for whose sake he is said to have bestowed many privileges and immunities on the owners of the baths at Baden.” This anecdote is told from Lambecius, by Mr. Ellis, in his Specimens of the Early English Poets, vol. i. 345, 6. note. 312 UTOPIA. buying a colt , (whereas a little money is in hazard) be so chary and circumspect, that though he be almost all bare, yet they will not buy him, unless the saddle and all the % harness be taken off; lest under those coverings be hid some gall or sore. And yet in choosing a wife , which shall be either pleasure or displeasure to them all their life after, they be so rechless* that all the residue of the woman’s body being covered with clothes, they esteem her scarcely by one hand breadth (for they can see no more but her face), and so do join her to them, not without great jeopardy of evil agreeing together, if anything in her body after¬ ward should chance to offend and mislike them. For all men be not so wise as to have respect to the virtuous condition of the party. And the endowments of the bodyf cause the virtues of the mind more to be soones : if deformed, they change their lovely names of Lucia, Cynthia, Camoena —call them I)orothie, Ursula, and Briget, and so put them into monasteries ! as if none were fit for marriage but such as are emi- nentlie faire : but these (adds our author) are erroneous tenets; a modest virgin, well conditioned, to such a fair snout-piece is much to be preferred ! ” The epigram of Ausonius on this subject is, perhaps, among the happiest extant: “ Nec mihi cincta Diana placet, nec nuda Cythera, Illa voluptatis nil habet, haec nimium.” Epig. xxviii. It is absurd to suppose that More was seriously impressed with the excellence of the above custom; however, in his own conduct, he might have shewn himself to be a staunch friend to wedlock. * Rash, negligent . f “ Plato,” says Burton, “calls beauty a privilege of nature, nature’s master-piece, a dumb comment; Theophrastus, a silent fraud ; Car¬ neades, still rhetorick, that persuades without speech; a kingdome without a guard ; because beautiful persons command as so many cap¬ tains. Young men will adore and honour beauty : nay. Kings them¬ selves, I say, will do it, and voluntarily submit their sovereignty to a lovely woman.” “ Wine is strong. Kings are strong, but a Woman is strongest.” [i Esd. iv. io.]—Anatomy of Melancholy, pp. 454 , 5 * edit. 1652. “We desire to dye of our good wills, (says Boiastuau), and gladly f I UTOPIA. 313 esteemed and regarded : yea, even in the marriages of wise men. Verily, so foul deformity may be hid under those coverings, that it may quite alienate and take away the man’s mind from his wife, when it shall not be lawful for their bodies to be separate again. If such deformity happen by any chance after the marriage is consummate and fin¬ ished, well : therein is no remedy but patience: every man sacrifice ourselves for the beautie of some persons; and we are so stirred, even to become out of our wits, by the prickings and provoca¬ tions of this faire and beautiful face ! Moreover, there is another miracle in the face, the which, although it bee not above the greatnesse of halfe a foote, notwithstanding, in the least mutation or chaungmg thereof, appeareth the difference of men, joyful and sorrowfull, of the hardy and the fearefull, of the angry and of the pitifull, of the lover and of him that hateth, of him that liveth in hope and he that is with¬ out hope, of whole and of the sicke, of the living and of the dead, with other infinite affections, as well of the body as of the soule. For this cause it is that the great philosopher Trismigisteus, after hee had pro- foundlye plunged in the contemplation of this humane worke, cried out, saieng, ‘ Where is the painter, so well sorting his colours, that could paint these faire eyes that are the windowes of the body, and glasses of the soul ? Who hath formed the lippes and the mouth, and knit together the sinewes ? Who hath mingled the veines like water brookes, divided all over the body, by the which, the humour and the blood running into divers parts deweth all the members with juyces and liquors ?’” See the Theatre or Rule of the World, pp. 236, 7 * The foregoing passage is written very much in the spirit of the ^ , “ Epistle to the Reader,’’ prefixed to the Second Part of Primaydaye’s PTt French Academie, Lond. 4to. 1605; and probably gave rise to many sentiments conveyed in that pious but ponderous performance. I suspect that Burton, the author of the Anatomy of Melancholy, was intimately acquainted with Boiastuau’s book, as translated by Alday, for there are passages in Burton’s “ Love Melancholy,” (the most extraordinary and amusing part of his work,) which bear a very strong resemblance to many in the “ Gests and Countenances ridicu¬ lous of Lovers,” at p. 195, of Boiastuau’s Theatre or Rule of the World. As this will be the last time of my mentioning the name of ^ , Boiastuau, I take this opportunity of recommending his curious ■' S *\ V D I Jjfr&fui 4, book to the antiquarian reader, and to assure him that the translation of Alday conveys all the spirit and interest of the original. It is referred to in Ritson’s Bibliographia Poetica, p. 114. 3 H UTOPIA. • must take his fortune well a worthed But it were well done that a law were made whereby all such deceits might be eschewed and avoided before hand. And this were they constrained more earnestly to look upon, because they only , of the nations in that part of the world, be content every man with one wife a-piece. And matrimony is there never broken but by death : except adultery break the bond, or else the intolerable wayward manners of either party. For if either of them find them- j selves for any such cause grieved, they may, by the license of the counsel, change and take another. But the other party liveth ever after in infamy, and out of wedlock. Howbeit, the husband to put away his wife for no other' fault, but for that some mishap is fallen to her body, this by no means they will suffer; for they judge it a great point of cruelty, that any body in their most need of help and com¬ fort should be cast off and forsaken; and that old age, which both bringeth sickness with it, and is a sickness itself, should unkindly and unfaithfully be dealt withal.*)- But now and then it chanceth, whereas the man and woman cannot well agree between themselves, both of them finding other with whom they hope to live more quietly and merrily, that they, by the full consent of them both, be divorced asunder and married again to other. But that not without the authority of the counsel: which agreeth to no divorces before they and their wives have diligently tried and ex¬ amined the matter. Yea, and then also they be loth to consent to it; because they know this to be the next way to break love between man and wife—to be in easy hope of a new marriage ! * “ Every man must bear his lot as well as he is able,” “ suam quisque sortem necesse ferat.” t This, it must be confessed, is a sound and virtuous maxim ; more worthy of Utopian wedlock than the ridiculous introduction of the bridal parties. UTOPIA. 315 Breakers of wedlock be punished with most grievous bondage : and if both the offenders were married, then the parties which in that behalf have suffered wrong be divorced from the adulterers, and be married together if they will, or else to whom they list. But if either of them both do still continue in love toward so unkind a bed-fellow, the use of wedlock is not to them forbidden; if the party faultless be disposed to follow, in toiling and drudgery, the person which for that offence is condemned to bondage. And very oft it chanceth that the repentance of the one, and the earnest diligence of the other, doth so move the prince with pity and compassion, that he restoreth the bond person from servitude to liberty and freedom again. But if the same party be taken eftsoons* in that fault, there is no other way but death. To other trespasses no prescript punishment is appointed by any law. But according to the heinousness of the offence, or contrary, so the punishment is moderated by the discre¬ tion of the counsel. The husbands chastise their wives f and the parents their children, unless they have done any so horrible an offence that the open punishment thereof maketh much for the advancement of honest manners. But most commonly the most heinous faults be punished with the incommodity of bondage. For that they suppose to be to the offenders no less grief, and to the common¬ wealth more profit, than if they should hastily put them to death, and so make them quite out of the way. For there * Afterwards. •j* The husband, by the old common law of England, might give his wife “ moderate correction; ” and the lower orders of people, (who are always fond of the old common law) still claim and exercise their ancient privilege. The instrument of castigation has yet, how¬ ever, been imperfectly defined, notwithstanding the dictum of a late learned judge at Nisi Prius. The civil law gave the husband a very unwarrantable authority over his wife—(“ flagellis et fustibus acriter verberare uxorem ”)— “to beat her severely with whips and cudgels.” See Blackslone’s Commentaries, vol. i. 444. edit. 1787* UTOPIA. 316 cometh more profit of their labour than of their death,* and by their example they fear other the longer from like offences. But if they being thus used, do rebel and kick again, then forsooth they be slain as desperate and wild beasts; whom neither prison nor chain could restrain and keep under. But they which take their bondage patiently, be not left all hopeless. For after they have been broken and tamed with long miseries, if then they shew such repentance, as thereby it may be perceived that they be sorrier for their offence than for their punishment, some¬ times by the prince’s prerogative, and sometimes by the voice or else consent of the people, their bondage either is mitigated, or clean released and forgiven. He that moveth to adultery is in no less danger and jeopardy, than if he had committed adultery in deed. For in all offences they count the intent f and pretended pur¬ pose, as evil as the act or deed itself; thinking that no let ought to excuse him, that did his best to have no let. They have singular delight and pleasure in Fools. And as it is a great reproach to do any of them hurt or injury, so they prohibit not to take pleasure of foolishness : for that they think doth much good to the fools. And if any man be so sad and stern that he cannot laugh neither at their words nor at their deeds, none of them be committed to his tuition, for fear lest he would not intreat them * More here takes another opportunity of expressing his abhorrence of capital punishments.—See the note on p. 191. f In this country, on trials for murder, the killing must be proved to have been committed with malice prepense, or premeditated malice; and this malice may be either expressed or implied. Expressed, when any one, with a determined intention, or deliberately formed design, murders another : implied, when one kills another suddenly, without any, or without a considerable, provocation ; for no person, unless of an abandoned heart, would be guilty of such an act. All homicide is presumed to be malicious , until the contrary appear upon evidence, Blackstone’s Commentaries, vol. iv. 199, &c. edit. 1787. UTOPIA. 317 gently and favourably enough : to whom they should bring no delectation, (for other goodness in them is none) much less any profit should they yield him.* To mock a man for his deformity, or for that he lacketh one part or limb of his body, is counted great dishonesty and reproach, not to him that is mocked, but to him that mocketh ; it being unwise to imbraid any man of that as a vice that was not in his power to eschew. Also as they count and reckon very little wit to be in him that regardeth not natural beauty and comeliness, so to help the same with paintings,f is taken for a vain and wanton pride, not without great * “ This was inserted probably in order to make an apology for the custom of his own country at that time ; in which every man of fashion, as we call them, had his fool to divert him, as regularly as the same men now have their valet de chambre to dress them : and this is a much better apology for that custom of our ancestors, than can be made for this of our cotemporaries; the one might be absurd, but the other is pernicious.*’— Warner. The reader has already (p. 199) bad some account of the fashion of these times, in monarchs and great men keeping fools, as we do servants. The importance attached to them was very considerable, if we may judge from the following anecdote related of Cardinal Wolsey. While the Cardinal thought there was yet a chance of reconciliation with Henry, after his disgrace, “he sent to the king as the most valuable of all his gifts, his fool Patch, whom he had cherished as one reserve of happiness in his misfortunes. Davies Dramatic Miscellanies, vol, i. 408, 9. f We may infer from this sentiment that face-painting was as prevalent in the reign of Henry VIII, as it is in that of Geo. III. Among the fashionable females of the present day, [1808] this practice is carried on in the most absurd and unnatural manner ; these ladies pe r haps are not aware of “ Certaine edicts from a parliament in Eutopia, written by the Lady Southwell, among which we find “ That no Lady that useth to paint, shall finde fault with her painter that hath not [counterfeited her picture faire enough, unless she will acknowledge herselfe to be the better counterfeiter !” See Sir Thomas Overbury’s Characters. Sign. R. 2. The most pernicious fashion in use among the women of the four¬ teenth and fifteenth centuries was that of painting. It appears from the Hist. Litt. des Troubadours, t. iii. 167, that the ladies used a n 318 UTOPIA. infamy. For they know even by very experience, that no comeliness of beauty doth so highly commend and advance the wives in the conceits of their husbands, as honest mixture of quick silver and various drugs for painting, as well as the common red and white. See Mr. Ellis’s Sp. Early Engl. Poets, vol. i- 337, 8. “ The first mention, says Strutt, that I remember to have seen of painting the face being used in England, is in a very old MS. pre¬ served in the Harleian library, of the date, probably of the 14th century, wherein is the following Recipe for to make a fair face , Mix together the milk of an ass, and of a black cow, and brimstone, of each a like quantity; and annoint thy face, so thou shalt be fair and white ! ” Manners and Customs of the English, vol. iii. 103. In one of Dekker’s pieces, not of the most delicate title, a cour¬ tezan s toilet is described to consist of “ a table, a cushion, a looking- glass, and a chafing-dish, with a small phial of white mixture, and two little pots; one of white, the other of red paint.”—Ibid. In whatever criminal point of view the custom of face-painting might have been considered by our ancestors, we find that it continued as uninterruptedly in the 17th,* as it did in the 16th and 15th cen¬ turies. Prynne, in his “ Unloveliness of Love Locks,” 1628, and in his famous “ Histrio-Mastix,” 1633, levelled against it all the fury of his invectives; calling it “an accursed hellish art,” [pp. 159, &c. 890] ; and raking up, from the Fathers, every sentiment of disdain and indignation with which their voluminous folios supplied him in abundance. Perhaps the most curious picture of the paraphernalia of a toilet, and the costume of full dress, in these times, is the following, written by Anthony Brewer, in his play called “Lingua,” 1607. “Tis five hours ago I set a dozen maids to attire a boy like a nice gentlewoman ; but there is such doing with their looking-glasses, pinning, unpinning, setting, unsetting, formings, and conformings; painting Hue veins , and ILoomy cheeks; such a stir with sticks, and combs, and cascanets, dressings, purls, falls, squares, busks, bodies scarfs, necklaces, carcanets, rabatoes, borders, tires, fanns, palisadoes, puffs, ruffs, cuffs, muffs, pusles, fusles, partlets, frislets, bandlets, fillets, croslets, pendulets, annulets, amulets, bracelets, and so many lets, that yet she’s scarce drest to the girdle; and now there is such calling for fardingales, kirtles, busk points, shoe ties, &c., that seven pedlars’ shops, nay, all Stourbridge fair, will scarce furnish her. A ship is sooner rigg’d by far, than a gentlewoman made ready.”—Act iv. sc. 6. This play is reprinted in Dodsley’s Collection of Old Plays. Vol. v. p. 115, edit. 1780. Some account of it may be seen in Baker’s Biogr. Dram. vol. i. 43, edit. 1782. UTOPIA. 319 conditions, and lowliness : for as love is oftentimes won with beauty, so it is not kept, preserved, and continued, but by virtue and obedience. In the year 1662, a less virulent, but more powerful advocate appeared against the art of face-painting j this was the author of “ A Discourse of Artificial Beauty, in point of Conscience between two Ladies,” 8vo., with a frontispiece of two women : the one plainly arrayed, with her hand upon the Bible, pointing to the other, who is represented with a fan in her hand, and her face covered with beauty spots. Beneath is this Greek motto, “Now XPV OeacrOaL ’ 7 —“The mind is the principal thing which ought to be seen.” The supposed author of this work is no less a writer than Jeremy Taylor. The preface, which is admirably written, and is in every respect worthy of his high reputation, artfully assigns it to a female author. In his account of the Utopian Marriages, More says nothing of the feasts and merriments, which, in his own country, usually attended them at the period when he wrote. Strutt, in the third volume of his “Manners and Customs ,” p. 154, has referred us to some authorities about the marriage processions and presents of our ancestors,—but in regard to the merry makings, he does not appear to have consulted a rare book which would have afforded him some curious information upon the subject. I allude to Coverdale’s “ Christian State of Matrimony ,” printed by Awdeley, in the black letter, A. D. 1575. The following account will perfectly reconcile us to the superiority of modern marriage festivals, even among the middling classes of society. “ Early in the morning the wedding people begin to exceede in superfluous eating and drinking, whereof they spit, untill the half sermon be done. And when they come to the preaching, they are halfe dronken; some altogether : therefore regard they not the preach¬ ing nor prayer, but stand there only because of the custome. Such folkes also do come unto the church with all maner of pomp and pride, and gorgeousness of raiment and jewels. They come with a great noyse of basens and drooms, wherewith they trouble the whole church.-And even as they come to the church, so go they from the church again ; light, nice, in shamefull pompe and vaine wantonnes.” Fob 58, rev.—9. “After the banket and feast, there beginneth a vaine, mad, and unmanerly fashion ; for the bride must be brought into an open dauncing place. Then is there such a running, leaping and flinging 320 UTOPIA. 1 among them ; - that a man might think all these dauncers had cast all shame behinde them, and were become starke mad and out of their wits, and that they were sworne to the devil’s daunce. Then must the poore bride keepe foote with all dauncers, and refuse none, how scabbed, foule, dronken, rude, and shameles soever he be ! Then must she oft tymes heare and see much wickednes, and many an uncomly word. And that noyse and romblyng endureth even tyll supper.” “ As for supper , looke how much shameles and dronken the evening is more then the morning, so much the more vice, exces, and misnur- ture is used at the supper. After supper, must they begin to pipe and daunce again of anew. And though the young persons (being weary of the babling noyse and inconvenience,) come once towards their rest, yet can they have no quietness ! For a man shall find unmanerly and restles people that wyll first go to their chamber doore, and there syng vicious and naughty balates—that the devil may have his whole triumphe now to the uttermost! ” Fob 59. rev. 60. This dissoluteness of manners may, by some, be supposed to have been silently countenanced by the indelicate phraseology of the mar¬ riage vow uttered at the altar, previous to the Reformation. Whoever happens to possess Regnault’s magnificent edition of the Catholic Prayer-book printed at Paris in 1529. [vid. fol. xlvi.] will have reason to applaud the alteration which our venerable Reformers introduced into the Liturgy in this particular. CHAPTER IX. Spirit of the Xatos. HEY do not only fear their people from doing Wli " 1 1 ""In I, evil by punishments, but also allure them to virtue with rewards of honour. Therefore they set up in the market-place the images of notable men, and of such as have been bountiful benefactors to the common-wealth, for the per¬ petual memory of their good acts : and also that the glory and renown of the ancestors may stir and provoke their posterity to virtue. He that inordinately and ambitiously desireth promotions, is left all hopeless for ever attaining any promotion as long as he liveth. They live together lovingly : for no magistrate is either haughty or fearful. Fathers they be called, and like fathers they use themselves. The citizens (as it is their duty) willingly exhibit unto them due honour without any compulsion. Nor is the Prince himself known from the other by princely apparel, or a robe of state, or by a crown or diadem royal, cap of maintenance,* but by a little sheaf of corn c trie d before him. And so a taper of wax is borne belore the BISHOP, whereby only he is known. * This is gratuitous in the translation; “ vestis aut diadema” being the expressions of More. 322 UTOPIA. They have but few laws. For to people so instruct and institute, very few do suffice. Yea, this thing they chiefly reprove among other nations, that innumerable * books of laws and expositions upon the same be not sufficient. But they think it against all right and justice, that men should be bound to those laws which either be in number more than be able to be read, or else blinder and darker than that any man can well understand them. Furthermore, they utterly exclude and banish all attornies, proctors, and serjeants at the law,j* which craftily handle matters, and subtily dispute of the laws. For they think it most meet that e very man should p lead his own matter, and tell the WIM— nil i Q i n ■U l lWT I tU Mi M»—*« lrtllWl l| l > l III .. same tale to the judge, that he would tell to his man of - .. . ^ law. So shall there be less circumstance of words, and the truth shall sooner come to light, whilst the judge with a discreet judgment doth weigh the words of him, whom no lawyer hath instructed with deceit, and whilst he beareth out simple wits against the false and malicious circumven¬ tions of crafty children.;j; This is hard to be observed in other countries, in so infinite a number of blind and intri¬ cate laws. But in Utopia every man is a § cunning * The Statute La'll) only of this country is at present comprised in no fewer than twenty quarto volumes. The statutes enacted during the present reign of George III. are considerably more numerous than those enacted by the whole line of preceding British kings. Viner, sixty years ago, wrote an abridgement of the common and statute laws of England in twenty-four folio volumes ! f How this would be relished at the present day, let us ask ‘ attornies, proctors, and serjeants at law ? ” More was not Chan¬ cellor of England when he reasoned thus. X It is said of More, that at his coming into office as Chancellor, “ he found the Court of Chancerie pestered and clogged with manie and tedious causes, some having hung there almost twentie years.” Before he left the situation, he one day called “for the next cause ? ” upon which he was answered there was “ none other upon the list ” this, say his biographers, he caused “to be put upon record, as a notable THING ! ” When will this day return ? § Skilful. UTOPIA. 3 2 3 lawyer. For as (I said) they have very few laws : and the plainer and grosser that any interpretation is, that they allow as most just. For all laws (say they) be made and published only to the intent that by them every man shall be put in remembrance of his duty. But the crafty and subtle interpretation of them (forasmuch as few can attain thereto) can put very few in that remembrance; whereas the simple, the plain, and gross meaning of the laws is open to every man. Else as touching the vulgar sort of the people, which be both most in number, and have most I need to know their duties, were it not as good for them, that no law were made at all, as, when it is made, to bring so blind an interpretation upon it, that without great wit and long arguing no man can discuss it? To the finding out whereof, neither the gross judgment of the people can attain, neither the whole life of them that be occupied in working for their livings can suffice thereto. These virtues of the Utopians have caused their next neighbours and borderers, which live free and under no subjection, (for the Utopians long ago have delivered many of them from tyranny) to make magistrates of them, some for a year, and some for five years space; which, when the time of their office is expired, they bring home again with honour and praise, and take new ones again with them into their country. These nations have undoubtedly very well and whole¬ somely provided for their common-wealths. For seeing that both the making and the marring of the weal-public, doth depend and hang upon the manners of the rulers and magistrates, wdiat officers could they more wisely have chosen, than those wdiich cannot be led from honesty by bribes (for to them that shortly after shall depart thence into their own country, money should be unprofitable), nor yet be moved either with favour or malice towards any X 324 UTOPIA. A \- man, as being- strangers, and unacquainted with the people ? The which two vices of affection and avarice, where they take place in judgments, incontinent* they break justice, the strongest and surest bond of a common-wealth. These people which fetch their officers and rulers from them, the Utopians call their fellows : and other, to whom they have been beneficial, they call their friends. As touching leagues, which in other places between country and country be so often concluded, broken, and renewed, they never make none with any nation. For to what purpose serve leagues, say they! As though nature had not set sufficient love between man and man ! And whoso regardeth not nature, think you that he will pass for words ? They be brought into this opinion chiefly because, that, in these parts of the world, leagues between princes be wont to be kept and observed very slenderly. For here in Europe , and especi¬ ally in these parts where the faith and religion of Christ reigneth, the majesty of leagues is every where esteemed holy and inviolable : partly through the justice and good¬ ness of princes, and partly at the reverence and motion of the head bishops. Which, like as they make no promise themselves, but they do very religiously perform the same, so they exhort all princes in any wise to abide by their promises ; and them that refuse or deny so to do, by their pontifical power and authority, they compel thereto. And surely they think well that it might seem a very reproach¬ ful thing, if in the leagues of them which by a peculiar name be called faithful, faith should have no place !*f* But in that new-found part of the world, which is scarcely so far from us beyond the line equinoctial, as our life and manners be dissident J from theirs, no trust nor confidence * Immediately: directly. f How faithfully leagues were kept in More’s time, between Em¬ perors, Popes, and Kings, let the pages of Dr. Robertson’s Charles V. tell ! J Disagreeing—from the Latin dissideo. UTOPIA. 325 is in leagues. But the more and holier ceremony the league is knit up with, the sooner it is broken by some cavillation found in the words, which many times of purpose be so craftily put in and placed that the bands can never be so sure nor so strong, but they will find some hole open to creep out at, and to break both league and truth. The which crafty dealing, yea the which fraud and deceit, if they should know it to be practised among private men in their bargains and contracts, they would incontinent cry out at it with an open mouth, and a sour countenance, as an offence most detestable, and worthy to be punished with a shameful death ; yea even f very they that vaunt ; themselves authors of like counsel, given to princes. Where¬ fore it may well be thought, either that all justice is but a base and a low virtue, and which availeth itself far under the high dignity of kings, or, at the least wise, that there I be two justices : the one meet for the inferior sort of the people; going a-foot and creeping low by the ground, and bound down on every side with many bands, because it shall not run at rovers ; the other, a princely virtue; which, like as it is of much higher majesty than the other poor justice, so also it is of much more liberty ; as to the which, nothing is unlawful that it lusteth after. These manners of princes (as I said), which be there so evil keepers of leagues, cause the Utopians , as I suppose, to make no leagues at all ; which perchance would change their mind if they lived here. Howbeit, they think that though leagues be never so faithfully qbserved and kept, yet the custom of making leagues was very evil begun. For this causeth men (as though nations which be separate asunder by the space of a little hill, or river, were coupled together by no society or bond of nature) to think themselves born * The old substantive for cavil. 4 326 UTOPIA. adversaries and enemies one to another, and that it were lawful for the one to seek the death and destruction of the other, if leagues were not: yea, and that after the leagues be accorded, friendship doth not grow and increase ; but the licence of robbing and stealing doth still remain, as far forth as for lack of foresight and advisement in writing, the words of the league, any sentence or clause to the contrary, are not therein sufficiently comprehended. But they be of a contrary opinion. That is, that no man ought to be counted an enemy which hath done no injury: an5 that the fellowship of nature is a strong league, and that , | iininwi^min—iiipii nijtiLj_ r— ^.^UiWiUML men be better and more surely knit together by love and benevolence than by covenants of leagues: by hearty affection of mind, than by words.* * Such are the principles of legislation by which More would govern his Utopian community. However pleasing and delightful they may appear, they are, in too many instances, founded upon a supposition of that perfectibility of human nature , of which neither the past nor the present annals of the world afford us any examples. It is easy for the imagination to create human beings for laws; but it is not quite so easy to form laws for human beings, such as Providence has thought proper to create them. Hence it is, that our author has in a great measure flattered himself with fiction instead of truth ; and that the “Spirit of the Laws” observable in Utopia, is better suited for the regions of fancy than of reality. CHAPTER X. Df SHatT AR or battle, as a thing very beastly, (and yet no kind of beasts so much use it as man) they do detest and abhor. And contrary to the custom almost of all other nations, they count nothing so much against glory, as glory gotten in war. And therefore, though they do daily prac¬ tise and exercise themselves in the discipline of war, not only the men, but also the women, upon certain appointed days, least they should be to seek in the feat of arms, if need should require—yet they never go to battle, but either in the defence of their own country, or to drive out of their friends land the enemies that have invaded it :”f* or by their power to deliver from the yoke and bondage of tyranny, some people that be therewith oppressed ; which thing they do of mere pity and compassion. Howbeit, they send help to their friends, not always in their defence, but sometimes also to requite and revenge injuries before * More’s friend, Erasmus, seems to have entertained something like similar notions of war and peace. The “ Pads Querela ” of this latter writer, first printed in the office of Froben, 1516* 4 t°>> with Polydore Virgil’s “ Book of Proverbs,” [see Panzer’s Annal. Typog. vol. vi. 198.] is a truly original and beautiful composition, t “That be comen in,” in the translation of 1551. 4 328 UTOPIA. to them done.* But this they do not unless their counsel and advice in the matter be asked, whilst it is yet new and fresh ; for if they find the cause probable, and if the con¬ trary part will not restore again such things as be of them justly demanded, then they be the chief authors and makers of the war. Which they do, not only as oft as by the in¬ roads and invasions of soldiers, preys and booties be driven away, but then also much more mortally, when their friends merchants in any land, either under the pretence of unjust laws, or else by the wresting and wrong understanding of good laws, do sustain an unjust accusation under the colour of justice. Neither the battle which the Utopians fought for the Nephelogetes against the Alaopolitanes , a little before our time, was made for any other cause but that the Nephelogete merchant-men, as the Utopians thought, suffered wrong of the Alaopolitans , under the pretence of right. But whether it were right or wrong, it was with so cruel and mortal war revenged, the countries round about joining their help and power to the puissance and malice of both parties, that most flourishing and wealthy people, being some of them shrewdlyf shaken and some of them sharply beaten, the mischiefs were not finished nor ended, until the Alaopolitans at the last were yielded up as bondmen into the jurisdiction of the Nephelogetes. For the Utopians fought not this war for themselves. And yet the Nephelogetes before the war, * “ Ouanquam auxilium gratificantur amicis, non semper quidem quo se defendant, sed interdum quoque illatas retalient atque ulcis¬ cantur injurias.” In the French translation: " Les Utopiens four- nissent done de leur propre finance des troupes auxiliaires a leurs amis. Iis ne le font pas seulement pour aider les voisins a repousser Pattaque, a se defendre contre les injustes agresseurs; ils les secou- rent aussi pour leur donner moien d’exercer la loi du talion , et de se venger du tort et des injustices qu’ils ont souffert.” This is para¬ phrastic enough ; but probably it conveys the meaning of More, f Destructively . I j i I when the A laopolitanes flour? be compared with them. So eag^ cute the injuries done to their friends: yeaTfl and not their own likewise. For if they by covin 67 wiped* beside their goods, so that no violence be done" their bodies, they easef their anger by abstaining from occu¬ pying with that nation until they have made satisfaction. Not for because they set less store by their own citizens than by their friends, but that they take the loss of their friends money more heavily than the loss of their own. Because that their friends merchantmen, for as much as that they lose is their own private goods, sustain great damage by the loss. But their own citizens lose nothing but of the common goods, and of that which was at home plentiful and almost superfluous ; else had it not been sent forth. Therefore no man feeleth the loss. And for this cause they think it too cruel an act to revenge that loss with the death of many, the incommodity of the which loss no man feeleth, neither in his life nor yet in his living. But if it chance that any of their men be in any other country maimed or killed, whether it be done by a common or a private counsel, (knowing and trying out the truth of the matter by their ambassadors,) unless the offenders be rendered unto them in recompense of the injury, they will not be appeased : but incontinent they proclaim war against them. The offenders yielded, they punish either with death, or with bondage. They be not only sorry, but also ashamed, to achieve the victory with bloodshed ; counting it great folly to buy pre¬ cious wares too dear. They rejoice and avauntj themselves, if they vanquish and oppress their enemy by craft and * This expression is strong, and peculiar to “ Master Raphe Robinson.” In the Latin, it is “ qui sicubi circumscripti bonis ex¬ cidant.” t “ Wreake ” in ist edition. X For “ vaunt:” boast. \v i make a general triumph ; IPlfP^re manfully handled, they set up a rathe place where they so vanquished their lipp^n token of their victory. For then they glory ; ISnthey boast and crack * that they have played the men indeed, when they have so overcome, as no other living creature but only man could ; that is to say, by the might and puissance of wit! For with bodily strength (say they) bears, lions, boars, wolves, dogs, and other wild beasts do fight. And as the most part of them do pass us in strength and fierce courage, so in wit and reason we be much stronger than they all. Their chief and principal purpose in war is to obtain that thing, which, if they had before obtained, they would not have moved battle. But if that be not possible, they take such cruel vengeance of them which be in the fault, that ever after they be afraid to do the like. This is their chief and principal intent which they imme¬ diately and first of all prosecute and set forward. But yet so, that they be more circumspect in avoiding and eschewing jeopardies, than they be desirous of praise and renown. Therefore immediately after that war is once solemnly de¬ nounced, they procure many proclamations, signed with their own common seal, to be set up privily at one time in their ene¬ mies land in places most frequented. In these proclamations they promise great rewards to him that will killj~their enemy’s prince ; and somewhat less gifts, (but them very great also,) for every head of them whose names be in the said procla- * Meaning, that they exult exceedingly. In the original Latin it is simply “ viriliter sese jactant.” Shakspeare rarely introduces the •verb “ crack” in the above sense.—(“And Ethiops of their sweet complex¬ ions crack”—cited in Johnson’s Dictionary.) t This is a very unphilosophical and unjust mode of reasoning and of acting. Mr. Roscoe somewhere well observes in his Lorenzo de Medici, that no principle, no combination of circumstances whatever, can justify assassination . UTOPIA. 33 * mations contained. They be those whom they count their chief adversaries, next unto the prince whom there is pro¬ scribed. Unto him that killeth any of the proclaimed per¬ sons, that is doubled to him that bringeth any of the same to them alive : yea, and to the proclaimed persons them¬ selves, if they will change their minds and come unto them : taking their parts, they proffer the same great rewards, with pardon and surety of their lives. Therefore it quickly cometh to pass that their enemies have all other men in suspicion, and be unfaithful and mistrusting among themselves one to another, living in great fear and in no less jeopardy. For it is well known, that divers times the most part of them, (and specially the prince himself) hath been betrayed of them in whom they put their most hope and trust. So there is no manner of act nor deed that gifts and rewards do not enforce men unto. And in rewards they keep no measure. But remembering and considering into how great hazard and jeopardy they call them, endeavour themselves to recompense the greatness of the danger with like great benefits. And therefore they promise not only wonderful great abundance of gold, but also lands of great revenues, lying in most safe places among their friends. And their promises they perform faithfully without any fraud or covin. This custom of buying and selling adversaries, among other people is disallowed as a cruel act of a base and a cowardish mind. But they in this behalf think themselves much praiseworthy as men who by this means dispatch great wars without battle or skirmish. Yea, they count it also a deed of pity and mercy ; because that by the death of a few offenders, the lives of a great number of innocents, as well of their own men, as also of their enemies, be ransomed and saved ; which in fighting should have been slain. For they do no less pity the base and common sort of their enemies’ people, than they do their own : knowing that they UTOPIA. be driven and forced to war against their wills, by the furious madness of their Princes and Heads. If by none of these means the matter go forward as they would have it, then they procure occasions of debate and dissention to be spread among their enemies. As by bringing the Princes brother, or some of the noblemen, in hope to obtain the kingdom. If this way prevail not, then they raise up the people that be next neighbours and borderers to their ene¬ mies ; and them they set in their necks, under the colour of some old title of right, such as kings do never lack. To them they promise their help and aid in their war. And as for money, they give them abundance ; but of their own citizens they send to them few or none: whom they make so much of, and love so entirely, that they would not be willing to change any of them for their adversary’s prince. But their gold and silver, because they keep it all for this only purpose, they lay it out frankly and freely; as* who should live even as wealthily if they had bestowed it every penny. Yea, and besides their riches, which they keep at home, they have also an infinite treasure abroad, by reason that (as I said before) many nations be in their debt. Therefore they hire soldiers out of all countries, and send them to battle, but chiefly of the Zapolets . This people is five hundred miles from Utopia eastward. They be hideous, savage, and fierce ; dwelling in wild woods, and high mountains, where they were bred and brought up. They be of an hard nature, able to abide and sustain heat, cold, and labour \ abhorring*!* from all delicate dainties, occupying no husbandry nor tillage of the ground ; homely and rude both in building of their houses ‘ and in their apparel, given unto no goodness, but only to the breeding * For “ they would .” f We say, properly, “ averse from.” The article “from” is now obsolete as applicable to “ abhorring,” or abhorrent. UTOPIA. 333 and bringing up of cattle. The most part of their living is by hunting and stealing. They be born only to war, which they diligently and earnestly seek for, and when they have gotten it, they be wonderous glad thereof. They go forth of their country in great companies together, and whosoever lacketh soldiers, there they proffer their service for small wages. This is the only craft that they have to get their living by. They maintain their lives by seeking their death. For them with whom they be in wages, they fight hardly, fiercely, and faithfully. They bind themselves for no certain time. But upon this condition they enter into bonds, that the next day they will take part with the other side for greater wages ; and the next day after that, they will be ready to come back again for a little more money.* There be few wars thereaway,f wherein is not a great number of them in both parties. Therefore it daily chanceth, that nigh kinsfolk, which were hired together on one part, and there very friendly and familiarly used them¬ selves one with another, shortly after, being separate into contrary parts, run one against another enviously and fiercely : and forgetting both kindred and friendship, thrust their swords one in another. And that for none other cause, but that they be hired for contrary princes for A LITTLE MONEY ! which they do so highly regard and esteem, that they will easily be provoked to change parts for a halfpenny more wages by the day! So quickly they have taken a smack in covetousness, which for all, that is to them no profit; for what they get by fighting, immediately they spend needlessly, unthriftily, and wretchedly in riot! I his people fighteth for the Utopians against all nations, because they give them greater wages than any other nation * This is a very strong picture of the human character; which will sometimes wade through perfidy, blood, and slaughter, for the acquisi¬ tion of paltry lucre. f Thereabouts ; in those parts. 334 UTOPIA. will. For the Utopians , like as they seek good men to use well, so they seek these evil and vicious men to abuse : whom, when need requireth, with promises of great rewards, they put forth into great jeopardies. From whence the most part of them never cometh again to ask their rewards. But to them that remain alive, they pay that which they promised faithfully; that they may be the more willing to put themselves in like danger another time. Nor the Utopians pass* not how many of them they bring to destruction. For they believe that they should do a very good deed for all mankind, if they could rid out of the world all that foul stinking den of that most wicked and cursed people. Next unto these, they use the soldiers of them for whom they fight: and then the help of their other friends, and last of all, they join to their own citizens; among whom they give to one of tried virtue and powers, the rule, governance, and conduction of the whole army. Under him they appoint two other, which, whilst he is safe, be both private and out of office. But if he be taken or slain, the one or the other succeedeth him, as it were by inheritance. And if the second miscarry, then the third taketh his room, least that (as the chance of battle is uncertain and doubt¬ ful) the jeopardy or death of the captain should bring the whole army in hazard. They choose soldiers out of every city, those which put forth themselves willingly; for they thrust no man forth into war against his will: because they believe if any man be fearful and faint-hearted of nature, he will not only do no manful and hardy act himself, but also be occasion of cowardness to his fellows. But if any battle be made against their own country, then they put ’ I * Care not: consider not. “ Neque enim pensi quicquam habent, quam multos ex eis perdant; rati de genere humano maximam meri¬ turos gratiam se, si tota illa colluvie populi tam tetri ac nefarii, orbem terrarum purgare possent.” UTOPIA. 335 these cowards (so that they be strong bodied) in ships among other bold-hearted men, or else they dispose them upon the walls, from whence they may not fly. Thus, what for shame that their enemies be at hand, and what for because they be without hope of running away, they forget all fear.* And many times extreme necessity turneth cowardness into prowess and manliness. But as none of them is thrust forth of his country into war against his will, so women that be willing to accompany their husbands in time of war, be not prohibited or letted ; yea, they provoke and exhort them to it with praises ; and, in set field, the wives do stand every one by their own husband’s side ; also every man is compassed next about with his own children, kinsfolks, and alliance,—that they, whom nature chiefly moveth to mutual succor, thus standing together, may help one another. It is a great reproach and dishonesty for the husband to come home without his wife, or the wife without her husband, or the son without his father. And therefore if the other part stick so hard by it, that the battle come to their hands, it is fought with great slaughter and bloodshed, even to the utter destruction of both parties : for as they make all the means and shifts that may be, to keep themselves from the necessity of fighting, or that they may dispatch the battle by their hired soldiers, so when there is no remedy, but they must needs fight themselves , then they do as courageously fall to it, as before (whilst they might) they did wisely avoid and refuse it. Nor be they most fierce at the first brunt: but in continuance by It is sometimes the practice of modern generalship to put raw and doubtful troops in front of those battalions which are to commence the action : hence, these troops have the benefit of receiving the first round ot giapc and canister shot, which are discharged from batteries and ramparts, &c. We all remember how Dumouriez won the battle of Jemmapes ! \ 336 UTOPIA. little and little their fierce courage encreaseth with so stub¬ born and obstinate minds, that they will rather die than give back an inch. For that surety of living, which every man hath at home, being joined with no careful anxiety or remembrance how their posterity shall live after them, (for this pensiveness oftentimes breaketh and abateth cou¬ rageous stomachs), makes them stout and hardy, and dis¬ dainful to be conquered.* Moreover, their knowledge in chivalry-f- and feats of arms putteth them in a good hope. Finally, the wholesome and virtuous opinions, wherein they were brought up even from their childhood, partly through learning, and partly through the good ordinance and laws of their weal-public, augment and increase their manful courage. By reason whereof, they neither set so little store by their lives, that they will rashly and unadvisedly cast them away; nor be they so far in lewd j and fond love therewith, that they will shamefully covet to keep them, when honesty biddeth leave them. When the battle is hottest, and in all places most fierce and fervent, a band of chosen and picked young men, which be sworn to live and die together, take upon them to destroy their adversary’s captain; whom they invade now with privy wiles, now by open strength : at him they strike both near and far off: he is assailed with a long and a continual * Burnet and Warner thus translate this sentence : “ For the cer¬ tainty that their children will be well looked after when they are dead, frees them from all that anxiety concerning them, which often masters men of great courage; and thus they are animated by a noble and invincible resolution.” f For an interesting account (among the many which may be referred to) of the origin and nature of Tournaments , so prominent a feature in chivalry, I recommend the reader to peruse Mr. Ellis’s note to “The Three Knights and the Smock,” in Mr. Way’s Fabliaux, vol. ii. p. 184. J Idle- — indifferent — stupid . It is frequently used by our old writers in this sense. UTOPxA. 337 assault, fresh men still coming in the wearied men’s places. And seldom it chanceth (unless he save himself by flying) that he is not either slain or else taken prisoner, and yielded to his enemies alive. If they win the field, they persecute not their enemies with the violent rage of slaughter: for they had rather take them alive than kill them. Neither do they so follow the chase and pursuit of their enemies, but they leave behind them one part of their host in battle array, under their standards. Insomuch, that if all their whole army be discomfited and overcome, saving the rear¬ ward and that they therewith achieve the victory, then they had rather let all their enemies scape, than to follow them out of array ; for they remember it hath chanced unto themselves more than once, the whole power and strength of their host being vanquished and put to flight, whilst their enemies rejoicing in the victory, have persecuted them, flying some one way and some another, a small company of their men lying in ambush, there ready at all occasions, have suddenly risen upon them thus dispersed and scattered out of array, and through presumption of safety unadvisedly pursuing the chase, have incontinent changed the fortune of the whole battle : and, spite of their teeths, wresting out of their hands the sure and undoubted victory—being a little befoie conquered—have for their part conquered the conquerors. It is hard to say whether they be craftier in laying an ambush, or wittier in avoiding the same. You would think they intend to fly, when they mean nothing less. And contrarywise, when they go about that purpose you would believe it were the least part of their thought. For if they perceive themselves overmatched in number, or closed in too narrow a place, then they remove their camp either in the night season with silence, or by some policy they deceive thcii enemies, or in the day time they retire back so softly, 338 UTOPIA. that it is no less jeopardy to meddle with them when they give back than when they press on. They fence and fortify their camp surely, with a deep and a broad trench ; the earth thereof is cast inward. Nor do they set drudges and slaves at work about it : it is done by the hands of the soldiers themselves. All the whole army worketh upon it, except them that keep watch in armour* before the trench for sudden adventures. Therefore by the labour of so many, a large trench, closing in a great compass of ground, is made in less time than any man would believe. Their armour or harness, which they wear, is sure and strong to receive strokes, and handsome for all movings and gestures of the body, insomuch that it is not unwieldy to swim in. P'or in the discipline of their warfare, among other feats, they learn to swim in harness. Their weapons be arrows aloof, which they shoot both strongly and surely, nor only footmen, but also horsemen. At hand strokes they use not swords, but poll-axes ; which be mortal as well in sharpness as in weight, both for foynes *f* and down strokes. Engines for war they devise and invent wondrous wittily ; which when they be made, they keep very secret, lest if they should be known before need require, they * “Harness”—in the English edit, of 1551. f A thrust , as in fencing ; the word is frequently used by Shak- speare. It means that the weapon has a keen edge or point to thrust with, and is weighty to make a powerful “ down stroke.” This part of the Utopia is curious, inasmuch as it makes us ac¬ quainted with the species of military weapons used by the English at the opening of the 16th century. Dr. Henry informs us, that the wea¬ pons and armour of this period were, with little variations, such as the famous assize of arms, made by Henry II. A. D. 1181, had appointed. The armour of the cavalry consisted of many different pieces nicely jointed, to allow freedom of motion and exertion of strength : the whole was well tempered, finely polished, and, among the higher orders, often beautifully gilt. A shield, of an oval form, was borne on the left arm, to ward off the adversary’s blows : a long spear, or lance, made of light and strong wood, and pointed with sharp and strong steel; a long UTOPIA. 339 should be but laughed at, and serve to no purpose. But in making them, hereunto they have chief respect that they be both easy to be carried, and handsome to be moved and turned about. and broad sword, double edged and sharp pointed, and a short dirk or dagger; these formed the offensive weapons. The horses of the princes or barons were sometimes clad in complete armour of steel or iron ; so that a knight, thus equipped, was almost invulnerable. Of the infantry, the defensive armour of a man at arms was a coat if mail, a helmet, and a shield; the offensive weapons, a spear and a sword : the defensive armour of an ordinary foot soldier was a wam- 30 is, or jacket twilted with cotton, and an iron scull-cap; his offensive irms, a spear, or a bow and arrows, or a sling, with a sword. Men it arms, where prowess was most conspicuous, held the highest estima- ion ; but the strength of the army consisted in the archers , who, about his period, were rendered more formidable by the addition of halberts, : ‘ hich they pitched on the ground till their arrows were exhausted, and | nth which they resisted the impression of the cavalry. See Henry’s list, of Gr. Br. vol. vi. 193* 204* vol. xii. 283. It was not till three years after the publication of the Utopia, that le musket was discharged from the shoulder: it being first em- loyed in 1521, at the siege of Parma, and was probably soon after¬ wards introduced into England. Roger Ascham, who wrote his truly anous book on archery, (called " Toxophilus ,”) in the year 1544, iems to allude to the musket in the opening of his prefatory address o the Gentlemen and Yomen of Englande : ” it is, at least, certain .at this weapon was used in England before the Toxophilus was pub- ,iecl (A.D. 1571.) although Dr. Johnson, in the life of Ascham, refixed to Bennet’s edition of Ascham’s works in 1762, p. vi. seems doubt it. It would appear, however, that as early as the year 1563, e practice of shooting with the bozv had in a great measure ceased •_ If but two or three noblemen in the court,” says Ascham, - wold but Zinne to shootc, all young jentlemen, the whole court, all London, the 10 e realme, wold straightwaie exercise shooting.” Schoolmaster 244. Bennet’s edit.* In the reign of James I. the bozv zvas zvholly here died about 300, most of them shot with arrows, which were re¬ nted to be of the length of a taylor’s yard ; so strong and mighty a bow the ,7w ™ Wer ? aid t0 draW -” L ° rd BaCOn ’ S Henr X VH. P . t 7 1 • edit. 1641. hat though with our 12,000, or 15,000, we have oft defeated their armies 0r il 6 °’ 000 ’ Stands * with r eason of war to expect the like success . especially since the use of arms is changed, and for the low , proper for n of out strength, the caliver begins to be generally revived ! ” Lord Her- Y 340 UTOPIA. Truce taken with their enemies for a short time, they do so firmly and faithfully keep, that they will not break it, no, not though they be thereunto provoked. They do disused, “though it was the weapon,” says Johnson, “by which we gained the battle of Agincourt; and which, when handled by English yeomen, no foreign troops were able to resist.” Preface to Toxophilus. From a note in Mr. Walter Scott’s “ Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border,” it appears that the Scots, towards the close of the sixteenth century, had chiefly fire arms : the English retaining still their par¬ tiality for their ancient weapon, the long bo^w. It also appears, by a letter from the Duke of Norfolk to Cecil, that the English borderers were unskilful in fire arms, or as he says, “ our countrymen be not so connying with shots as I woolde wishe.” See vol. i p. 169, of this amusing collection of ancient historical poetry. There is a remarkable passage in the description of England, by Harrison, prefixed to Holinshed’s Chronicle, 1587, which proves how much the use of the bow had declined towards the end of the 16th century. “ In times past,” says Harrison, “the cheefe force of England consisted in their long bouves. But now we have in maner generallie given over that kind of artillerie, and certes, the Frenchmen and Rutters * deriding our new archerie in respect of their corslets, will not let in open skirmish, if anie leisure serve, to turn up their tails, and crie f Shoote English ! ’ and all because our strong shooting is de- caied and laid in bed. But if some of our Englishmen now lived, that served king Edward the III. in his warres with France, the breech of such a varlet should have been nailed to his b—m with one arrow, and another fethered in his bowels, before he should have turned about to see who shot the first.” p. 198.f Bishop Latimer, in his sixth sermon bert’s Henry VIII. p. 18, edit. 1649. “ While he that carries the caliver goes unarmed, the arrow will have the same effect within its distance as the bullet, and can for one shot return two.” Ibid. p. 55. See the “ Extracts from Books subsequent to the date of Toxophilus,” prefixed to the neat little edition of this latter work by the Rev. John Walters, M.A. Wrexham, 1788. 8vo. * Rutters or Reistres were German horse; brought into France during the regency of Cath. de Medicis. So named from the German Reuter , a horseman or trooper. f Patritius, who wrote on the reign of James I. tells us “that an English arrowe with a little waxe put upon the point of the head, would passe through any ordinary corslette or curace.” Afterwards, he adds, “all the wonders done by the Parthian bowes, were notwithstanding not to be compared to our ancient English bowes, either for strength, or for shooting.” Strutt’s Manners and Customs of the English, vol. ii. 40. UTOPIA. 341 not waste nor destroy their enemies land with forragings, nor they burn not up their corn. Yea, they save it as much as may be from being over-run and trodden down, either with men or horses, thinking that it groweth for their own use and profit. They hurt no man that is unarmed, unless he be an espyal* All cities that be yielded unto them, they defend ; and such as they win by force of assault, they neither despoil nor sack; but them that withstood and dis¬ suaded the yielding up of the same, they put to death : the multitude they leave untouched. If they know that any citizens counselled to yield and render up the city, to them they give part of the condemned men’s goods : the residue they distribute and give freely among them whose help they had in the same war: for none of themselves taketh any portion of the prey. But when the battle is finished and ended, they put their friends to never a penny cost of all the charges that they were at, but lay it upon their necks that be conquered. Them they burthen with the whole charge of their expenses, which they demand of them partly in money, to be kept for the use of battle, and partly in lands of great revenues, to be paid unto them yearly for ever. Such revenues they have now in many countries; which by little and little rising of divers and before K. Edward VI. gives an interesting account how the sons of yeoman were, in his infancy, trained up to the bow. See Ritson’s Robin Hood. Lond. 8vo. 1795, vol. i. p. xxxviii.— perhaps the most curious and amusing production which that eccentric but erudite Eng¬ lish antiquary ever published. Ritson says that “it may be still a question whether a body of expert archers would not, even at this day, be superior to an equal number armed with muskets.” p. xxxvii. Spy* The word is used by Chaucer : “ For subtilly he had his espiaille .” See Steevens’s note in the Shakspeare edition of 1803. vol. xiii. 32. wiii. 165. Mr. Malone tells us it is used likewise by Hall and Holinshed. 342 UTOPIA. sundry causes, be Increased above seven hundred thousand ducats by the year. Thither they send forth some of their citizens as lieutenants, to live there sumptuously, like men of honour and renown. And yet this notwithstanding, much money is saved, which cometh to the common trea¬ sury : unless it so chance that they had rather trust the country with the money ; which many times they do so long, until they have need to occupy it; and it seldom happeneth that they demand all. Of these lands they as¬ sign part unto them, which at their request and exhortation, put themselves in such jeopardy as I spake of before. If any prince stir up war against them, intending to invade their land, they meet him incontinent out of their own bor¬ ders with great power and strength. For they never lightly make war in their own country. Nor be they ever brought into so extreme necessity, as to take help out of foreign lands into their own island. £>f tf)e &eltgttmg tn fllltopta* HERE be divers kinds t>f religion, not only in sundry parts of the island, but also in divers places of every city. Some worship for God, the Sun ; some, the Moon ; some, other of the planets.* There be that give worship to a man that was once of excellent virtue or of famous glory, not only as God, but also as the chiefest and highest God. But*f* the most and the wisest part (rejecting all these) be¬ lieve, that there is a certain godly power, unknown, ever¬ lasting, incomprehensible, inexplicable, far above the ca- * The reader will smile at the French paraphrastic translation of the above passage, which in the English is as close and concise as the original Latin. “ Ce n’est pas seulement dans File en general que le culte Divin est bigarre, c’est aussi chez toutes les parties de la nation. La croiance rehgieuse ne sauroit etre plus partagee, ni la foi pieuse plus sujette a controverse. Chaque ville a son Dieu. L’une s* prosterne et fait ses demotions decant le flambeau de I’Univers, astre dit vulgairement le boleil I' autre recite ses heures devant la Lune, et invoque cette belle et argentine Phcbe, de qui la Gent poetique a reve tant de belles choses dans son insomnie ordinaire. Telle ville fete et chomme une autre anete, &c. but enough has been extracted to shew the occasionally rambling style of the Amst. edit, of 1730. t The above may be considered a fine and faithful translation of the beautiful passage in the original Latin. “ At multo maxima pars. 344 UTOPIA. pacity and reach of man’s wit, dispersed throughout all the whole world, not in bigness, but in virtue and power. Him they call the father of all. To him alone they attribute the beginnings, the increasings, the proceedings, the changes, and the ends of all things. Neither they give any divine honours to any other than to him ; yea all the other also, though they be in divers opinions, yet in this point they agree altogether with the wisest sort, in believing that there is one principal God, the maker and ruler of the whole world : whom they all commonly, in their country lan¬ guage, call MYTHRA * But in this they disagree, that among some he is counted one, and among some, another: for every one of them, whatsoever that is which he taketh for the chief God, thinketh it to be the very same nature, to whose only divine might and majesty, the sum and sov¬ ereignty of all things, by the consent of all people, is attributed and given. Howbeit, they all begin by little and little to forsake and fall from this variety of superstitions, and to agree together in that religion which seemeth by reason to pass and excel the residue. And it is not to be doubted but all the other would long ago have been abol¬ ished, but that whatsoever unprosperous thing happened to eademque longe prudentior, nihil horum, sed unum quoddam numen putant, incognitum, aeternum, immensum, inexplicabile; quod supra mentis humanae captum sit, per mundum hunc universum, virtute, non mole, diffusum : hunc parentem vocant. Origines, auctus, progressus, vices, finesque rerum omnium, huic acceptos uni referunt, nec divinos honores alio praeterea ulli applicant.” Mithra is the name under which the ancient Persians worshipped the Sun . The word was also applied to the temples of worship, formed of rock, or caverns. Porphyry assures us, says Bryant, that the deity had always a rock or cavern for his temple; that people in all places where the name of Mithras was known, paid their worship at a cavern. Some make a distinction between Mithras, Mithres, and Mithra, but they were all the same deity, the Sun; esteemed the chief god of the Persians. Ancient Mythology, vol. ii. 223-—230. UTOPIA. 345 any of them, as he was minded to change his religion, the fearfulness of people did take it, not as a thing coming by chance, but as sent from God out of heaven. As though the God, whose honour he was forsaking, would have re¬ venged that wicked purpose against him. But after they heard us speak of the name of Christ, of his doctrine, laws, miracles, and of the no less wonderful constancy of so many martyrs, whose blood willingly shed brought a great number of nations throughout all parts of the world into their sect, you will not believe with how glad minds they agreed unto the same ! whether it were by the secret inspiration of God, or else for that they thought it nighest unto that opinion, which among them is counted the chiefest. Howbeit, I think this was no small help and furtherance in the matter that they heard us say, that Christ instituted among his, all things common : and that the same community doth yet remain amongst the rightest Christian companies. Verily howsoever it came to pass, many of them consented together in our religion, and were washed in the holy water of baptism. But because among us four (for no more of us was left alive, two of our com¬ pany being dead) there was no priest, which I am right sorry for, they being entered and instructed in all other points of our religion, lack only those sacraments which none but priests do minister. Howbeit, they understand and perceive them, and be very desirous of the same. Yea, they reason and dispute the matter earnestly among them¬ selves, whether, without the sending of a Christian bishop, one chosen out of their own people, may receive the order of priesthood. And truly they were minded to choose one. But at my departure thence they had chosen none. They also which do not agree to Christ’s religion, fear * Neminem tamen absterrent ”—“ Deter no man from it.” 34-6 UTOPIA. no man from it, nor speak against any man that hath re¬ ceived it, saving that one of our company in my presence was sharply punished. He, as soon as he was baptized, began against our wills, with more earnest affection than wisdom, to reason of Christ’s religion : and began to wax so hot in this matter, that he did not only prefer our religion before all other, but also did utterly despise and condemn all other, calling them prophane, and the followers of them wicked and devilish, and the children of everlasting damna¬ tion ! When he had thus long reasoned the matter, they laid hold on him, accused him, and condemned him into exile ; not as a despiser of religion, but as a seditious per¬ son, and a raiser up of dissension among the people. For this is one of the ancientest laws among them : that no man shall be blamed for reasoning in the maintenance of his own religion* For king UTOPUS, even at the first beginning, * “ It is plain that when our author wrote this history he had not any bigotry and fiery zeal in his composition. But afterwards, some how or other, he became devoted to the passions and interest of the popish clergy to a degree of superstition : and even then, however, it must be confessed that his zeal carried him rather against the sedition which many ran into who favoured the Reformation, than against the doctrines which were taught. For as much attached as he was to the church of Rome, yet he was not so extravagant in his notions of the papal power as some others were : and his friend Erasmus said of him, ‘ that though he hated the seditious tenets with which the world was then miserably disturbed, yet it was a sufficient argument of his mode¬ ration, that whilst he was Lord Chancellor, no person was put to death for his disapproved opinion. 5 55 —Warner. Nothing can afford a clearer proof of the liberality of thinking, in matters of religion, displayed by More in his early years, than the above sentiments. Probably he was not yet so rigid in his Catholic opinions, as he afterwards appears to have been ; but whatever was his rigidity, and however severe and scurrilous even (for in his con¬ troversial tracts, he made use of such terms as to procure for him “ the reputation of having the best knack of any man in Europe, at calling bad names in good Latin 55 )—however severe or scurrilous might have been some of his theological treatises, I cannot believe the idle stories t UTOPIA. 347 hearing that the inhabitants of the land were, before his coming thither, at continual dissension and strife among themselves for their religions, perceiving also that this common dissension (whilst every several sect took several parts in fighting for their country) was the only occasion of his conquest over them all, as soon as he had gotten the which are told of him, when Lord Chancellor, of 'whipping and putting to death certain of the Reformers. The only authorities are Burnet and Fox ; the former of whom relies upon the latter. Fox, though an honest and excellent character, was a warm zealot; and the inference to be drawn is, not that More was right in being a Catholic, and Fox wrong in being a Protestant, but that the evidence of warm and zealous partisans should, in all cases, be received with caution. The general tenor of narrative and argument adopted by all More’s pro- Jessed biographers, and the solemn testimony of Brasmus, discounte¬ nance even a supposition of the above cruelties. The complete refu¬ tation which our author gave to the ridiculous accusations brought against him concerning the Nun of Canterbury, and the receiving of a gold cup, by way of bribe, are at once instances of the blind malevo¬ lence of party, and the triumph of innocence. More’s conduct towards his son-in-law Roper, who differed from him in religious principles, and was probably a Lutheran, (what Staple- ton calls a heretic ), redounds highly to the former’s credit. “ More frequently and seriously conversed with him on the subject of his reli¬ gion ; but finding his arguments ineffectual, said to him, “ I will no longer dispute with you—I will pray to God for you ! ” The conse¬ quence was, that, within a few days afterwards, Roper voluntarily confessed to his wife that he was become a convert to the catholic re¬ ligion.”—Stapleton, Vit. Mori, p 89. When therefore Mr. Burnett, in his “ Specimens of English Prose Writers,” vol. i. 391, says that More’s “ aversion to heterodoxy (by which he means Protestantism) was so implacable, that few inquisitors have surpassed him in their persecutions of heresy ”—it must be confessed that he appears to have delivered his sentiments rather from the warmth of feeling, than from the authority of historical evidence. Who would not suppose, irom such an observation, that More had been a Bonner ? It cannot be dissembled that the warmth of More’s piety (“verm pietatis non indiligens cultor, etiamsi ab omni superstitione alienis¬ simus, says Erasmus, Ep. 437.) received an unfortunate bias as he grew older; and that his early freedom of religious sentiment was, probably, a source of uneasiness to him when he became more closely allied to the church of Rome. The earnestness with which, in his 348 UTOPIA. victory, first of all, he made a decree, that it should be lawful for every man to favour and follow what religion he would ; and that he might do the best he could to bring other to his opinion, so that he did it peaceably, gently, quietly, and soberly ; without hasty and contentious re¬ buking and inveighing against other. If he could not by fair and gentle speech induce them unto his opinion, yet he should use no kind of violence, and refrain from dis- pleasant and seditious words. To him that would vehe¬ mently and fervently in this cause strive and contend, was decreed banishment or bondage. This law did king UTOPUS make, not only for the main¬ tenance of peace, which he saw through continual conten¬ tion and mortal hatred, utterly extinguished; but also because he thought this decree should make for the further¬ ance of religion. Whereof he durst define and determine nothing unadvisedly, as doubting whether God, desiring manifold and divers sorts of honour, would inspire sundry men with sundry kinds of religion. And this surely he thought a very unmeet and foolish thing, and a point of arrogant presumption, to compel all other by violence and threatenings to agree to the same that,thou believest to be true. Furthermore, though there be one religion, which alone is true, and all other vain and superstitious, yet did he well foresee (so that the matter were handled with rea- letters, he exhorts Erasmus to retract his former opinions, and in future to be more circumspect in propagating them, shews strongly that he was at last most zealously devoted to the interests of Catho¬ licism. But the sincerity and warmth of a man’s private opinion in religious matters, and the enforcing of that opinion upon others, are quite different things. That More’s religious creed was such as every enlightened Protestant must condemn, cannot be doubted, and that his writings in support of the same are at once dull and acrimonious, must also be admitted : my object is not to defend the religious prin¬ ciples of More, but to shew that he was far from being inquisitorial in causing others to embrace them. UTOPIA. 349 r son and sober modesty), that the truth of the one power would at the last issue out and come to light. But if con¬ tention and debate in that behalf should continually be used—as the worst men be most obstinate and stubborn, and in their evil opinion most constant—he perceived that then the best and holiest religion would be trodden under foot, and destroyed by most vain superstitions ; even as corn is by thorns and weeds overgrown and choaked. Therefore all this matter he left undiscussed, and gave to every man free liberty and choice to believe what he would. Saving that he earnestly and straightly charged them, that no man should conceive so vile and base an opinion of the dignity of man’s nature, as to think that the souls do die and perish with the body : or that the world runneth at all adventures governed by no divine providence. And there¬ fore they believe that after this life, vices be extremely punished, and virtues bountifully rewarded. Him that is of a contrary opinion, they count not in the number of men, as one that hath availed the high nature of his soul to the vileness of brute beasts bodies * : much less in the number * More has well described dissipated and unmoral characters in his “Thyrde Booke of Comforte agaynst Tribulation.” « Howbeit ” (says he) “ some things are there in scripture expressed in the manner of the pleasures and joys that we shall have in heaven; as where righteous men shall shine as the sun, and shall run about like sparkles of fire among reeds. Now, tell some carnal-minded man of this manner of pleasure, and he shall take little pleasure therein • and say, he careth not to have his flesh shine, he !—nor like a spark of fne, to skip about in the sky. Tell him that his body shall be impas¬ sible, and never feel harm, yet, if he think then therewith that he shall never be an hungred nor a thirst, and shall thereby forbear all his pleasure of eating and drinking, and that he shall never have list to sleep, and theieby lose the pleasure that he was wont to take in slugging; and that men and women shall there live together as angels, \\ithout any manner, mind, or motion unto the carnal act of genera¬ tion, and that he shall thereby not use there his old filthy voluptuous fashion, he will say, he is better at ease already ! and would not give this world for that! ” More’s Works, edit. 1557, p. 1258. 350 UTOPIA. of their citizens, whose laws and ordinances, if it were not for fear, he would nothing at all esteem. For you may be sure he will study either with craft privily to mock, or else violently to break the common laws of his country, in whom remaineth no further fear than of the laws, nor no further hope than of the body. Wherefore he that is thus minded is deprived of all honours, excluded from all offices, and re¬ jected from all common administrations in the weal-public. And thus he is of all sorts despised, as of an unprofitable and of a base and vile nature. Howbeit, they put him to no punishment, because they be persuaded that it is in no man’s power to believe what he list. No, nor they constrain him not with threatenings to dissemble his mind, and shew countenance contrary to his thought. For deceit and false¬ hood, and all manner of lies, as next unto fraud, they do marvellously detest and abhor. But they suffer him not to dispute in his opinion, and that only among the common people. For else apart, among the priests and men of gravity, they do not only suffer but also exhort him to dis¬ pute and argue; hoping that at the last, madness will give place to reason. There be also other, and of them no small number, which be not forbidden to speak their minds, as grounding their opinion upon some reason, being in their living neither evil nor vicious. Their heresy is much con¬ trary to the other: for they believe that the souls of the brute beasts be immortal and everlasting. But'nothing to be compared with ours in dignity, neither ordained and predestinate to like felicity. For all they believe certainly and surely that man’s bliss shall be so great, that they do mourn and lament every man’s sickness, but no man’s death ; unless it be one whom they see depart from his life carefully and against his will. For this they take for a very evil token, as though the soul being in despair, and vexed in conscience, through some privy and secret fore-feeling of UTOPIA. 351 the punishment now at hand, were afraid to depart. And they think he shall not be welcome to God, which, when he is called, runneth not to him gladly, but is drawn by force, and sore against his will. They therefore that see this kind of death, do abhor it; and them that so die, they bury with sorrow and silence.* And when they have prayed to God to be merciful to the soul and mercifully to pardon the in¬ firmities thereof, they cover the dead corpse with earth.j- * In More’s oetry of his “ Eloisa.” f Stuff. + ^ e ma y l° rm some opinion of the high estimation in which Church Music was held in these times, from a £< Book of Ceremonies published 364 UTOPIA. than these that we use in this part of the world. And like as some of ours be much sweeter than theirs, so some of theirs do far pass ours. But in one thing doubtless they go exceeding far beyond us ; for all their music, both that they play upon instruments, and that they sing with man’s in the year 1539. “ The sober, discrete, and devout singing, music, and playing with organs, used in the church, in the service of God, are ordained to move and stir the people to the sweetnes of Godes word, the which is there sung : and by that sweet harmony, both to excite them to prayer and devotion, and also to put them in remembrance of the heavenly triumphant church, where is everlasting joy, continual laud, and praise to God.” Sect. “ Service of the Church All this seems to have been violently scouted by the zeal of the first reformers, in the “ Protestation of the Clargie of the Lovuer House,” they declared that “ synging, and saying of mass, matins, or even¬ song, is but rorying, howling, whistelyng, mummying, conjuring, and jogelyng, and th o. playing of the organys* a foolish vanitiei” On the interment of Henry VIII. “when the mold was brought and cast into the grave by the Prelate executing, at the words pulverem pulveri , and cinerem cineri, (a proof by the bye, of the Service being still in Latin), first the Lord Great Chamberlain, and al others afore¬ said in order, with heavy and dolorous lamentations brake their staves, &c. with exceeding sorrow and heaviness, not without grievous sighs and tears very piteous and sorrowful to behold. Then the trumpets sounded with great melody and courage to the comfort of al them that were there present.” See Dr. Burney’s Hist, of Music, vol. iii. p. 2, 3 ; and the authorities there cited. Some curious intelligence on this subject is collected by Strutt, Man. and Cust. vol. iii. p. 116, 117. Among the contributors to church music, Henry VIII. (whose fame as a musician is frequently mentioned by our early writers) appears to have been not the least scanty; having, according to Hall, (Union Vit. H. 8.) “ set 2 goodly masses, every of them 5 partes, whyche weresonge oftentymes in his chapel, and afterwardes in divers other places.” Rit- son possessed a MS. of Henry the Eight’s time, “somewhat resembling the Fairfax collection, but more abounding in church service, hymns, carols, and other religious pieces.” He tells us too, “ there is likewise a species of poetical harmony in old books, called K. H. (King Henry’s) mirth, or Freemen’s Songs.” See his “ Historical Essay on National Song,” p. lv. in his Select Coll, of English Songs. 1783. * In Sir John Hawkins’s Hist, of Music, vol. iv. p. 151, there is a curious cut of an organ made in the time of King Stephen. UTOPIA. 365 voice, doth so resemble and express natural affections, the sound and tune is so applied and made agreeable to the thing, that whether it be a prayer, or else a ditty of glad¬ ness, of patience, of trouble, of mourning, or of anger, the fashion of the melody doth so represent the meaning of the :hing, that it doth wonderfully move, stir, pierce, and en- lame* the hearers minds. At the last, the people and the Driest together rehearse solemn prayers in words, expressly Dronounced, so made that every man may privately apply o himself that which is commonly spoken of all. In these prayers every man recogniseth and know- ] edgeth God to be his maker, his governor, and the principal : :ause of all other goodness; thanking him for so many >enefits received at his hand : particularly that, through the avour of God, he hath chanced into that public weal, which 5 most happy and wealthy, and hath chosen that religion yhich he hopeth to be most true. In the which thing if he o any thing err, or if there be any other better than either f them is, being more acceptable to God, he desireth him hat he will of his goodness let him have knowledge thereof, s one that is ready to follow what way soever he will lead im. But if this form and fashion of a commonwealth be ' est, and his own religion most true and perfect, then he * “1° a word, music is so powerful a thing that it ravisheth the )uls; “ regina sensuum” —the queen of the senses—by sweet plea- ire, (which is an happy cure) and corporal tunes, it pacifies our in - rporeal soul,—“ sine ore loquens, dominatum in animam exercet ”— id carries it beyond itself—helps, elevates, extends it.”—Burton’s natomy of Melancholy, part 2. sect. 2. subject 3. “ Be (that is happily qualified to appreciate the better parts of music) ill enjoy this heavenly gift, this exquisite and soul-delighting sensa- r n , in the temples of his God, or in the peaceful circles of domestic ippiness ’ says Mr. Douce, in a fine burst of eloquence upon the ■ arms and efficacy of music. See his “ Illustrations of Shakspeare id of Ancient Manners,” 8vo. 1808 : vol. i. 270. a work replete with steful illustration and curious research. • UTOPIA. 366 desireth God to give him a constant stedfastncss in the same, and to bring all other people to the same order of living, and to the same opinion of God, unless there be any thing that in this diversity of religions doth delight his un¬ searchable pleasure. To be short, he prayeth him that after his death he may come to him : but how soon or late, that he dare not assign or determine. Plowbeit, if it might stand with his Majestys pleasure, he would be much gladder to die a painful death, and so to go to God, than by long living in worldly prosperity to be away from him. When this prayer is said, they fall down to the ground again, and a little after they rise up and go to dinner; and the residue of the day they pass over in plays and exercise of chivalry.* * It must be confessed that, with some trifling exceptions, there is much candour, benevolence, and a genuine spirit of piety displayed in the religion, creeds, and modes of worship of the Utopians. There are passages in the preceding pages, not less affecting for the true spirit of devotion which they breathe, than beautiful for the language in which they are composed. The original Latin of More is, through¬ out the whole of the chapter upon religion, in a more elevated and energetic strain ; and the translation of Robinson improves also in pro¬ portion. The French translation is decorated with so many flourishes that it can hardly be read with seriousness. CHAPTER XII. inflections on ti )t Commonwealth of Utopia. OW I have declared and described unto you, as truly as I could, the form and order of that common-wealth, which verily in my judgment is not only the best, but also that which alone of good right may claim and take upon it the name of a COMMON-WEALTH or PUBLIC WEAL. For in other ! daces they speak still of the common-wealth ; but every nan procureth his own private gain. Here , where nothing s private, the common affairs be earnestly looked upon. \nd truly on both parts they have good cause so to do as hey do. For in other countries who knoweth not that he hall starve for hunger, unless he make some several provi- ion for himself, though the common-wealth flourish never o much in riches ! And therefore he is compelled even of 'ery necessity to have regard to himself rather than to the >eople, that is to say, to others. Contrary wise, there where all things be common to every nan, it is not to be doubted that any man shall lack any hing necessary for his private uses, so that the common torehouses and barns be sufficiently stored. For there othing is distributed after a niggish sort, neither is there 368 UTOPIA. any poor man or beggar. And though no man have any thing,* yet every man is rich ; for what can be more rich than to live joyful and merrily, without all grief and pen¬ siveness ? not caring for his own living, nor vexed or trou¬ bled with his wife’s importunate complaints, nor dreading poverty to his son, nor sorrowful for his daughter’s dowry! Yea they take no care at all for the living and wealth of themselves and all theirs, of their wives, their children, their nephews, their children’s children, and all the succes¬ sion that ever shall follow in their posterity. And yet, besides this, there is no less provision for them that were once labourers, and be now weak and impotent, than for them that do now labour and take pain. Here now would I see if any man dare be so bold as to compare with this equity, the justice of other nations ; among whom, I for¬ sake *f* God, if I can find any sign or token of equity and justice! For what justice is this, that a rich goldsmith or an usurer, or to be short, any of them which either do nothing at all, or else that which they do is such that it is not very necessary to the common-wealth, should have a pleasant and a wealthy living, either by idleness, or by un¬ necessary business ? when in the meantime, poor labourers, carters, iron smiths, carpenters, and ploughmen, by so great and continual toil, as drawing and bearing beasts be scant J able to sustain, and again so necessary toil, that without it no common-wealth were able to continue and endure one year, should yet get so hard and poor a living, and live so wretched and miserable a life, that the state and condition of the labouring beast may seem much better and wealthier ? For they be not put to so continual labour, nor their living * That is, as his own exclusive property. t In the original Latin it is “ dispeream.” + For “scarce able ”—the expression is in the translation of i55b and is yet sometimes to be heard in the remoter parts of England. UTOPIA. 3^9 is not much worse, yea, to them much pleasanter, taking no thought in the mean season for the time to come. But these silly poor wretches be presently tormented with bar¬ ren and unfruitful labour. And the remembrance of their poor indigent and beggarly old age killeth them up. For their daily wages is so little, that it will not suffice for the same day; much less it yieldeth any overplus that may daily be laid up for the relief of old age. Is not this an unjust and an unkind public weal, which giveth great fees and rewards to gentlemen, as they call them, and to goldsmiths, and to such other, which be either idle persons, or else only flatterers and devisers of vain pleasures: and of the contrary part, maketh no gentle pro¬ vision for poor ploughmen, colliers, labourers, iron-smiths, and carpenters, without whom no common-wealth can con¬ tinue ? But after it hath abused the labourers of their lusty and flowering age, at the last, when they be oppressed with old age and sickness, being needy, poor, and indigent of all things, then, forgetting their so many painful watch¬ ings, not remembering their so many and so great benefits, recompenseth and acquyteth them most unkindly with miserable death ! And yet besides this, the rich men not only by private fraud, but also by common laws, do every day pluck and snatch away from the poor some part of their daily living. So whereas it seemed before unjust to repay with unkind- less their pains, that have been beneficial to the common¬ weal, now they have to this their wrong and unjust dealing (which is yet a much worse point) given the name of justice, yea., and that by force of a law! Therefore, when I con¬ sider and weigh in my mind all these common-wealths ■vhich now a-days any where do flourish, so God help me, l can perceive nothing but a certain conspiracy of rich men procuring their own commodities under the name and title 370 UTOPIA. of the common-wealth ! They invent and devise all means and crafts ; first, how to keep safely without fear of losing, what they have unjustly gathered together ; and next, how to hire and abuse the work and labour of the poor for as little money as may be. These devices, when the rich men have decreed to be kept and observed under colour of the commonalty, that is to say, also of the poor people, then they be made laws. But these most vicious and wicked men, when they have by their unsatiable covetousness divided among themselves all those things which would have sufficed all men, yet how far be they from the wealth and felicity of the Utopian common-wealth ? Out of the which, in that all the desire of money with the use thereof is utterly secluded and banished, how great a heap of cares is cut away ? How great an occasion of wickedness and mischief is pulled up by the root ? For who knoweth not that fraud, theft, ravine, brawling, quarrelling, brabbling, strife, chiding, contention, murder, treason, poisoning, which by daily punishments are rather revenged than refrained, do die when money dieth ?* And also that fear, grief, care, labours, and watchings, do perish even the very same mo¬ ment that money perisheth ? Yea poverty itself, which only * Numerous are the anecdotes told of More’s indifference to wealth : some of them have been already before the reader. “Tindall and divers others affirmed, that they wist well that Sir T. More was not less worth in monie, plate, and other moveables, than 20,000 marks; but it was found farre otherwise when his house was searched after he was committed to the Tower, where a while he had some competent libertie : but after, on a suddaine, he was shutt up very close; at whiche time he feared that there would be a new and more narrower search in all his houses ; because his mind gave him that folks thought he was not so poore, as it appeared in the search ; but he told his daughter, Mrs. Roper, that it would be but a sporte to them that knew the truth of his povertie ! unlesse they should finde out his tuive’s gay girdle , and her goolde hcades !” —Great Grandson’s Life of Sir T. More, 4to edit. p. 403. UTOPIA. 371 seemed to lack money, if money were gone, it also would decrease and vanish away. And that you may perceive this more plainly, consider with yourselves some barren and unfruitful year, wherein many thousands of people have starved for hunger—I dare be bold to say, that in the end of that penury, so much corn or grain might have been found in rich men’s barns, if they had been searched, as, being divided among them whom famine and pestilence then consumed, no man at all should have felt that plague and penury! So easily might men get their living if that same worthy Princess , Lady Money, did not alone stop up the way between us and our living, which a God’s name was very excellently devised and invented, that by her the way thereto should be opened ! I am sure the rich men perceive this ; nor be they ignorant how much better it were to lack no necessary thing, than to abound with overmuch superfluity : to be rid out of innumerable cares and troubles, than to be besieged and encumbered with great riches. And I doubt not that either the respect of every man’s private commodity, or else the authority of our Saviour Christ, (which for his great wisdom could not but know what were best, and for his inestimable goodness could not but counsel to that which he knew to be best) would have brought all the world long ago into the laws of this weal- public, if it were not, that only one beast, the princess and mother of all mischief, Pride,* doth withstand and let it! She measureth not wealth and prosperity by her own com- * Whoever will consult More’s Treatise « De quatuor novissimis,” in which there is an excellent chapter “ Of Pride,” will see in what detestation this abominable vice was held by our author. In his reatise upon the Passion,” the subject is again discussed; and at the commencement of it, (which relates to the conduct of Satan towards ° l ! r ' rst P^ents,) the curious reader may discover some passages, w iich probably supplied Milton with hints for the conduct of the Devil on his arrival in Paradise. See More’s Works, edit. 1557. p. 82. 1270. A A 372 UTOPIA. modities, but by the misery and incommodities of other : she would not by her good will be made a goddess, if there were no wretches left, over whom she might, like a scornful lady, rule and triumph ; over whose miseries her felicities might shine ; whose poverty she might vex, torment, and increase, by gorgeously setting forth her riches. This hell-hound creepeth into men’s hearts, and pulleth them back from entering the right path of life, and is so deeply rooted in men’s breasts that she cannot be pulled out. This form and fashion of a weal-public, which I would gladly wish unto all nations, I am glad yet that it hath chanced to the Utopians ; which have followed those institu¬ tions of life, whereby they have laid such foundations of their common-wealth, as shall continue and last not only wealthy, but also, as far as man’s wit may judge and conjecture, shall endure for ever. For seeing the chief causes of ambi¬ tion and sedition, with other vices, be plucked up by the roots and abandoned, at home there can be no jeopardy of domestical dissention, which, alone, hath cast underfoot and brought to nought the well fortified and strongly defenced wealth and riches of many cities. But for as much as perfect concord remaineth, and wholesome laws be exe¬ cuted at home, the envy of all foreign princes be not able to shake or move the empire, though they have many times long ago gone about to do it, being evermore driven back. €ptlogue. HUS when Raphael had made an end of his tale, though many things came to my mind, which in the manners and laws of that people seemed to be instituted and founded of no good reason, not only in the fashion of their chivalry, and in their sacrifices and religions, and in other of their laws ; but also, yea and chiefly, in that which is the principal foundation of all their ordinances, that is to say, in the com- I munity of theii life and living, without any occupying of money; by the which thing only all nobility, magnificence, worship, honour, and majesty, the true ornaments and hon¬ ours, as the common opinion is, of a common-wealth, utterly be overthrown and destroyed, yet, because I knew that he was weary of talking, and was not sure whether he could abide that any thing should be said against his mind, spe¬ cially remembering that he had reprehended this fault in other, which be afraid lest they should seem not to be wise enough, unless they could find some fault in other men’s inventions ; therefore, I, praising both their institutions and his communication, took him by the hand and led him in to supper ; saying that we would choose another time to weigh and examine the same matters, and to talk with him moie at large therein : which would God it might once come to pass ! 374 EPILOGUE. In the mean time, as I cannot agree and consent to all things that he said—being else without doubt a man sin¬ gularly well learned, and also in all worldly matters exactly and profoundly experienced—so must I needs confess and grant that many things be in the UTOPIAN weal-public, which in our cities I may rather wish for, than hope after. Thus endeth the afternoon’s talk of Raphael Hythloday, concerning the laws and institutions of the island of Utopia.* * “ The same praise is due to many passages in the second part (or book), where the country, the manners, and the political institutions of the Utopians are described. Yet while we allow much to the ingenuity,; and much to the judgment of the author, it must be acknowledged that many of the laws and practices of this new republic are by no means improvements; that the author has been more successful in exposing defects than in providing remedies ; and that his regulations are often fitted rather for the beings of his own fancy, than for those with whom the Creator has peopled this world. “The sagacity of the Utopians cannot be sufficiently applauded,for connecting together so intimately the ideas of virtue and industry, oi idleness and vice. And although the regulations adopted by theii legislator to retain all his people in continual activity are often fanciful, and, perhaps impracticable ; yet it must be acknowledged, that the object he had in view is essentially connected with the improvemenl and happiness of mankind.” Macdiarmid, Lives of British States?nen, Appendix. cCtiti of tlje Utopia, To the Right Hon. Jerome Buslide, Provost of Arienum, and Counsellor of the Catholic King Charles, Peter Giles, Citizen Antwerp, wisheth health and felicity ; HOMA S MORE, the singular ornament of this our age, as you yourself (Right Honourable Buslide ) can witness, to whom he is perfectly well known , sent unto me this other day, the island of Utopia, to very few as yet known , but most worthy ; which, as far excelling P laid s common-wealth, all people should be willing to know: specially of a man most eloquent so finely set forth, so cunningly painted out, and so evidently subject to the eye, that as oft as I read it, me thinketh that I see some¬ what more than when I heard Raphael Hythloday himself (for I was present at that talk , as well as Master MoreJ uttering and pronouncing his own words: yea, though the same man, according to his pure eloquence, did so open and declare the matter, that he might plainly enough appear to i cport, not things which he had learned of others only by Inai say, but which he had with his own eyes presently seen, thoroughly viewed, and wherein he had no small time been conversant and abiding: a man truly, in mine opinion, as touching the knowledge of religions, peoples, and worldly ex- pt > mice, much passing, yea, even the very famous and renowned traveller Ulysses. Indeed such a one, as for the space of these 376 PETER GILES TO DCCC years past, I think nature into the world brought not forth his like : in comparison of whom, Vespuce may be thought to have seen nothing. Moreover , whereas we be wont more effectually and pitthely to declare and express things that we have seen, than which we have but only heard', there was besides that, in this man, a certain peculiar grace, and singular dexterity to describe and set forth a matter withal. Yet the self-same things, as oft as I behold and consider them, drawn and painted out with Master More’s pencil, I am therewith so moved ’ so delighted\ so inflamed, and so rapt, that sometimes me thinks I am pre¬ sently conversant even in the island of Utopia ! And I promise you, I can scarce believe that Raphael himself by all that five years space that he was in Utopia abiding ; saw there so much as here in Master More’s description is to be seen and perceived. Which description, with so many won¬ drous and miraculous things is replenished, that I stand in great doubt whereat first and chiefly to muse or marvel: whether at the excellency of his perfect and sure memory, which could well nigh word by word rehearse so many things once only heard: or else at his singular prudence, who so well and wittily marked and bare away all the original causes and fountains (to the vulgar people commonly most unknown) whereof both is sueth and springeth the mortal confusion and utter decay of a common-wealth, and also how the advance¬ ment and wealthy state of the same may rise and grow : or else at the efficacy of his words, which in so fine a Latin style, with such force of eloquence, hath couched together and com¬ prised so many and divers matters ; specially being a man continually incumbered with so many busy and troublesome cares, both public and private, as he is. Howbeit, all these things cause you little to marvel (Rigid Honourable Buslide ), for that you are familiarly and tho¬ roughly acquainted with the notable, yea almost divine wit of JEROME BUSLIDE. 377 the man. But now to proceed to other matters: I surely know nothing needful or requisite to be adjoined unto his writings, only a metre of four verses written in the Utopian tongue ; which, after Master More’s departure, Hythloday by chance shewed me: that have I caused to be added thereto, with the Alphabet of the same nation, and have also garnished the margin of the book with notes. For as touching the situation of the island, that is to say, in what part of the world Utopia standeth, the ignorance and lack whereof not a little troubleth andgneveth Master More : indeed Raphael left not that un¬ spoken of. Howbeit, with very few words he lightly touched it, inci¬ dentally by the way passing it over ; as meaning of likelihood to keep and reserve that to another place. And the same, I what not how, by a certain evil and unlucky chance, escaped us both. For when Raphael was speaking thereof, one of Master More’s servants came to him, and whispered in his ear: wherefore I being then of purpose more earnestly addicted to hear—one of the company, by reason of cold taken, I think a ship-board\ coughed out so loud, that he took from my hearing certain of his words. But I will never stint, nor rest, until I have got the full and exact knowledge hereof; insomuch that I will be able perfectly to instruct you, not only m the longitude or true meridian of the island, but also in the just latitude thereof / that is to say, in the suble- vation or height of the pole in that region ; if our friend Ilythloday be in safety and alive. For we hear very un¬ certain news of him. Some report that he died in his journey home ward. Some again affirm that he returned into his country ; but partly, for that he coidd not away with the fashions of his country folks, and partly, for that his mind and affection was altogether set and fixed upon Utopia, they say that he hath taken his voyage thither-ward again. Now touching this, that the name of this island is no where 378 PETER GILES TO JEROME BUSLIDE. found among the old and ancient cosmographers, this doubt Hythloday himself very well dissolved. For why, it is pos- \ sible enough (quoth he) that the name, which it had in old time was afterward changed , or else that they never had know¬ ledge of this island; for as much as now, in our time, divers lands be found', which to the old geographers were unknown. Howbeit, what needeth it in this behalf to fortify the matter with arguments, seeing Master More is author hereof suffi¬ cient ? But whereas he doubteth of the edition, or imprinting of the book, indeed herein I both commend and also acknow¬ ledge the man's modesty. Howbeit, unto me it seemeth a work most unworthy to be long suppressed, and most worthy to go abroad into the hands of men ; yea, and wider the title of your name, to be published to the world: either because the singular endowments and qualities of Master More be to no man better known than to you, or else because no man is more fit than you, with good counsels to further and advance the common-wealth : wherein you have many years already continued and travelled with great joy and commendations, both for wisdom and knowledge, and also of integrity and uprightness. Thus, O liberal sup¬ porter of good learning, and flower of this our time, I bid you most heartily well to fare! At Antwerp, 1516, the first day of November. Specimen of the Utopian Slanguage* VTOPIENSIVM ALPHABETVM. [from the first edition of the utopia.] 6©(d ocoocqooaj inn abcdefghikl mnopqr EtDElHQ s t v x y METRE of four verses in the Utopian tongue, briefly touching as well the strange beginning, as also the happy and wealthy continuance, of the same common-wealth : V topos ha Boccas peula chama polta chamaan. Bargol he maglomi Baccan soma gymnosophaon. Agrama gymnosophon labarem bacha bodamilomin. Voluala barchin hcman la lauoluala dramme pagloni. \ hich verses the translator, according to his simple know- Mge, and mean understanding in the Utopian tongue, ath thus rudely englished 38 o SPECIMEN OF THE My king and conquerour Utopus by name, A prince of much renown and immortal fame. Hath made me an isle that erst no island was. Full freight with worldly wealth, with pleasure and solace. I, one of all other, without philosophy. Have shaped for man a philosophical city. As mine, I am nothing dangerous to impart. So better to receive, I am ready with all my heart. A short metre of Utopia, written by Anemolius, Poet- Latireat , and nephew to Hythloday, by his sister. Me Utopie cleped antiquitie. Void of haunt and herboroughe. Now am I like to Plato’s citie. Whose fame flieth the world through. Yea like, or rather more likely, Plato’s platt to excell and pass. For what Plato’s pen hath platted briefly. In naked words, as in a glass. The same have I performed fully. With laws, with men, and treasure fitly. Wherefore not Utopia but rather rightly My name is Eutopia : a place of felicity. Gcecarti j^otu'omap of Utopia. Doth pleasure please ? then place thee here, and well thee rest. Most pleasant pleasures thou shalt find here. Doth profit ease ? then here arrive, this isle is best; For passing profits do here appear. Doth both thee tempt, and wouldest thou gripe both gaine and pleasure? This isle is freight with both bounteously. To still thy greedy intent, reap here incomparable treasure. Both mind and tongue to garnish richly. The hid wells and fountains both of vice and virtue. Thou hast them here subject unto thine eye. Be thankful now, and thanks where thanks be due, Dive to Thomas More, London’s immortal glory. UTOPIAN LANGUAGE. 3 Sl Cornelius Ccapljcp to tfje EcaOcr. Wilt thou know what wonders strange be in the land that late was found ? Wilt thou learn thy life to lead, by divers ways that godly be ? Wilt thou of virtue and of vice understand the very ground ? Wilt thou see this wretched world, how full it is of vanity ? Then read, and mark, and bear in mind, for thy behalfe, as thou may best: All things that in this present work, that worthy clerk Sir Thomas More, With wit divine full learnedly, unto the world hath plain exprest: In whom London well glory may, for wisdom and for godly lore. *** From the Edition of 1556. Supplemental jRotes. Family of Sir T. More. E (John More) married a Yorkshire heiress, &c. and had by her five children ; four of whom died shortly after coming of age— the youngest married, and had thirteen children.”—p. 24. This youngest child I apprehend to be Gertrude; who composed a very serious religious work, under the title of “ The Spiritual Exer¬ cises of the most vertuous and religious D. Gertrude More, &c. she , called them— Amor ordinem nescit —An Ideot’s Devotions. Her only Spiritual Father and Directour the Ven. Fa. Baker stiled them Con¬ fessiones Amantis —A Lover’s Confessions, &c. Printed at Paris, m.dc.l viii. i2mo.” With a beautifully executed line-engraving of the Authoress, by R. Lochon. The words “ D. Gertrude More. Magnes Amoris Amor,” are inscribed under the engraving; which I conceive to be of excessive rarity. Some verses, opposite this por¬ trait, tell us expressly that the work is the production of Sir Thomas More’s grandchild. Works of Sir T. More. —p. 71. More’s Richard III. was reprinted by T. Paine, in i2mo. 1641. There are two title-pages to this publication : the first is called “ The Historic, &c. of Ed’ward the V.” the second “ The Tragicall Historie, ^ c • of Richard Hid.” The entire volume comprehends 461 pages. I 01 traits of Edward and Richard (the latter a very characteristic one) ire prefixed to these titles. The work is dedicated to “Sir John Lenthall, Knight, Marshall of the King’s Bench.” 3^4 SUPPLEMENTAL The Host or Landlord of an Alehouse. “ What sort of human beings the hosts were in former days,” &c.—See p. 185. We have been favoured by Caxton, in the Second edition of his “ Book of Chess,” with the following wood-cut of this important per¬ sonage—who is there made the Sixth Pawn in the Game. “ This resembleth,” says our venerable typographer, “the Taverners, Hostlers, and sellers of victual ! ” Male Accomplishments. “ Wine taverns, ale-houses, and tipling-houses, &c. with unlawful games, &c. do not all these things send the haunters of them straight a stealing, when their money is gone ? ”—See p. 187. NOTES. 385 “ Dice play, and such other foolish and pernicious games, they know not.”—See p. 250. In an “ Epistle Dedicatory to the Gentry, &c. of Northumberland, Bishoprick of Durham, Westmorland, and Cumberland,” prefixed to a rare Catalogue of Books, (which is noticed at large in a subsequent P a g e >) pubi. A. D. 1658—we have the following energetic exhortation : Let Tinkers and vulgar brains drown and soak their meaner wits md conceptions in draining a country ale-house ! Let Gentlemen seek heir own honor, and blazon their own reputation, by their noble and nave deportment; which is only to be accomplished by study, reading, md converse with discreet and wise men. And thus may you prove horns in the way of wickedness, rather than supporters and nourishers >f debauched courses; to the ruin of your own fortunes, and blush of 7 our relations. Thus may you strive to recover yourselves from the g ranny of common education, which lies now much in wearing fine loaths, eating, sleeping, drinking, and knowing nothing above the legree of common and low understanding; many being, only by their ude demeanors, the constables, slaves, and aderision to all : drowning hose parts, bestowed with their parents cost, and, it maybe, purchased . ith the sweat of their own industry. Thus, like high spirited horses, nat beat out their fiery lives in their own litters ! Pure oil cannot -angle with water; nor the extracted quintessence of true nobleness in a right gentleman) with the dregs and subsistence of unworthi- ess, sign. A. 4. B. Consult also Brathwait’s “ Nursery for Gentry f diich abounds with beautiful and apt sentiments upon this subject. I here is some force in the following quotation from a more ancient nd popular writer. “ Io be a Gentle borne, and to use him selfe ungently, is even as uch as to shame hym selfe and his. There have bene found many, hich came of a low birth, but they garnished their kyndred so with ^rtues and noble actes, that they and their stocke attayned to great rosperity. —Coverdale s Christian State of Matrimony, 1575. 8vo L51. 1 he following was Sir Thomas Smyth’s description of a Gentleman, the reign of Oueen Elizabeth, which the reader may think as appro- iate as an) definition supplied him by the learning of modern times. “ As for Gentlemen, they be made good cheap in England. For hosoever studieth the laws of the realm, who studieth in the Univer¬ ses, who professeth liberal sciences, and to be short, who can live 386 SUPPLEMENTAL idly and without manual labour, and will bear the port, charge, and countenance of a Gentleman, he shall be called Master j for that is the title which men give to esquires and other gentlemfen, and shall be taken for a gentleman; for true it is with us, as is said, “Tanti ens aliis quanti tibi feceris ,” &c. &c.— De Repub. Anglor. ch. 20. p. 27. The following excellent observations upon “ Dice playing f and its evil consequences, by a writer contemporary with More, are well deserving the reader’s attention; for although two centuries and a half have elapsed since they were written, yet, unfortunately, even at this day, we witness too many instances of their being founded in truth. “ I suppose there is not a more plain figure of idleness, than playing at dice. For besides that therein is no manner of exercise of the body or mind, they which play thereat, must seem to have no portion of wit or cunning, if they will be called fair players, or in some company avoid the stab of a dagger, if they be taken with any crafty convey¬ ance. And because always wisdom is therein suspected, there is seldom any playing at dice, but thereat is vehement chiding and brawling’ horrible oaths, cruel, and sometimes mortal menaces. I omit strokes, which now and then do happen, oftentimes between brethren and most dear friends, if fortune bring alway to one man evil chances, which maketh the play of the other suspected. O why should that be called a play, which is compact of malice and robbery ? Undoubtedly they that write of the first inventions of things have good cause to suppose Lucifer, prince of devils, to be the first inventor of dice-playings and hell the place where it was found, although some do write that it was first invented by Attalus. For what better allective could Lucifer devise, to allure and bring men pleasantly into damnable servitude, than to purpose to them, in form of a play, his principal treasury wherein the more part of sin is contained, and all goodness and virtue confounded ? ■ edit. p. 49, 50. and Stow’s Survey of London , edit. 1603, p. 93. Strype’s edit. 1720. vol. i. p. 247. Female A ccomplishments. “ -—weigh and consider with yourselves how great a part of the people in other countries liveth idle. First, almost all women ; which be the half of the whole numbers.”—p. 251. “ Beauty, strength, nimbleness, these, as peculiar and pleasant gifts of nature they make much of.”—p. 297. “To despise the comeliness of beauty, to waste the bodily strength, to turn nimbleness into slothfulness, to consume * The Horatian language of old Fitz-Stephen is as follows; (according to Hearne’s reprint of it, at the end of Le land’s Itinerary, vol. viii. p. 46. edit. 1770.) “ Puellarum Cytheraea ducit choros, et pede libero pulsatur tellus, usque imminente luna.” Dr. Pegge, in his translation of this work, has a note upon the three last words, and would intimate, with Strype, that it should be rendered until moonlight —alledging, that it seems extraordinary, in summer, when the days are long, the maids should not begin to dance till moon-light.” But it had escaped this learned antiquary, that though summer days are long, they are nevertheless hot —and that the cool of the evening, and the radiance of the moon, are the more natural incitements to dance. Something more might be advanced upon the construction of the sentence, as it stands in Hearne, but perhaps “ more than enough ” has been already said. NOTES. 391 and make feeble the body, to do injury to health, and to reject the pleasant motions, this of nature to do, they think a point of extreme madness ! ”—p. 298. These texts of the Utopia, from different places, but concentrating in one object, viz. Female Accomplishments , are selected in order to in¬ troduce the following striking picture of a wise and good woman, from Di. Whitlock s “ ZfiOTOMIA.”—Lond. 1654» 8 vo.—an amusing and well written, but very inaccurately printed book. Next being good, she counts the addition wise, another part of a woman s portion : and therefore (though she first dress herself by the Myrrour oj Mirrours ), she looks for Modes and Dresses in that exchange of Books whence she culls the best. She knoweth no reason books should be engrossed by Men, or that.time spent in them is not as good as to be a whole forenoon. Narcissus-like, admiring a good—or. Botcher¬ like, mending a bad—face in her glass. Those dead monitors of her eternity she loves; and indeed when she is minded of it by any alive, thinks it not necessary that presently she should conceit herself in a church—or looks about to spy the black serge or cassock of him that speaks—but thinks it might as gracefully tip the tongue of any He or She that retains to corruption, and these dying elements. She counts ' it as pleasant to converse with Historians, Poets, Philosophers, &c. though now rotten, as with the finest perfumed “ Your humble-ser-vant- I Madam ” alive! Her knowledge, by discretion, she tempers to a mean, that learning’s engrosser among the males might allow her; find corrects by it exuberances of fancy, or desires, which various reading might imprint on such waxy molds, &c. Concerning her beauty, she will owe it to none but nature ; she doth not borrow it rom art; it sleeps with her in her bed, not closset ; it maketh never in item (jig by joal with Plaisters or Syring) in her Apothecary’s bill. That beauty she hath, she overvalues not—and counts it part of it so o do; according to St. Austin —“She is truly fair that knows it not!” She can preach the frailty of it to herself, as well as any cast-off over ever could ! and knows, as well as he, a pin may raze it into leformity, or the sting of a bee alter it even from knowledge for a ime. If she paints, she borroweth from modesty the blushing red; hde , from fear of doin g any thing that might stain her honour, or llefile her conscience, &c. She is of the mind of Philo's wife, who K?ing asked why she alone did not wear rich attire, since she might, nswered—“ The husband's -virtue was the wife's best ornament ’’ '• 35 C 2, 3. 392 SUPPLEMENTAL Ale and Beer drinking. “ There be neither wine taverns, nor ale-houses, &c.”— p. 269. To the long note subjoined to this passage, as here referred to, and in particular to the observations drawn from Gascoigne and Peacham, I add the following : From the famous “Regimen Sanitatis Salerni,” written by John of Milan, about the end of the nth century, and translated by Thomas Paynell, in 1575, (a book of which Ames and Herbert were igno¬ rant, and for the loan of which I am indebted to the ever-prompt kindness of Mr. Heber,) the reader is presented with the following account “ Of the Qualities of Good Ale. Non ut acetosa cervisia, sed bene clara De validis cocta granis satis ac veterata. “ This texte declareth v thynges, by which one maye knowe good ale. The fyrst is, that it be not sower, for that hurteth the stomake. A sower thinge, as Avicen sayeth in many places, hurteth the senowes, and the stomake is a membre full of senowes, specially about the brimme or mouth. The seconde thynge is, that ale must be clere; for troubled ale is a stopper, and hurteth them over much that have the stone; it fatteth and enflateth and maketh one shorte winded, and engendreth muche fleume. The thyrde thinge is, that ale should be made of good corne that is not corrupt; that is to say, of the beste barley, wheate, or ootes; for the better the corne is, the better is the humour thereof engendred. The fourthe thinge is that ale ought to be well sodde : for that causeth it the better to be digested and more amyable to be receyved of nature : and the inconveniences thereof growyng are the better borne. For if the ale be not wel sodde, it engendreth the ventosities in the bealy, gnawyng, enflation, and colycke. The fifth thynge is, that ale ought to be stale and well pourged. For new ale engendreth the same hurte that ale doth the whiche is not well sodde : and also, doth lyght breade the strayne coylyon.”—fob liiii. In “ The Philosopher's Banquet,” published in 1633, p. 25, we have this sagacious disquisition about Ale and Beer. “Ale,” (as saiih Rases), “ especially made of barley, weakens the nerves and sinews : causeth dullnesse and head ache ; yet provoketh urine, and represseth the heat of drunkennesse. That which is made of wheat, mixed NOTES. 393 with parsley and other herbs, is adjudged best of all men ; as that which is only puffed up with forcible ingredients, to shew a strength in weakness, wherein no virtue or goodness remaineth else, is accounted worst. Of which one writeth : Ale for antiquity may plead and stand, Before the conquest, conquering in this land: Beer, that is younger brother to her age. Was then not borne, nor ripe to be her page j In every peddling village, borough, tovone. Ale play'd at foot-ball, and tript all lads down : And though she's rivali' d novo by Beer, her mate. Most doctors wait on her, that shews her state." In that curious and much coveted collection of miscellaneous poetry, published in the middle of the 17th century, under the title of “ Recre¬ ation for Ingenious Head Pieces, or a Pleasant Grove for their Wits to walk in," we have two rival panegyrics upon the virtues of Sack and Ale. In the first. Ale is thus abused : This muddy drench of Ale does taste too much Of earth; the malt retains a scurvy touch Of the dull hand that sows it; and I fear There’s heresy in Hops : give blockheads beer. And silly Ignoramus; such as think There’s Powder-treason in all Spanish drink ! Call Sack an idol! we will kiss the cup For fear the Conventical be blown up \\ ith Superstition : away with the Brew-house alms. Whose best mirth is six shillings beer, and qualms. The answer of Ale to the Challenge of Sack. Come, all you brave Wights, That are dubbed Ale-knights, Now set out yourselves in fight : And let them that crack In the praises of Sack, Know Malt is of mickle might. Though Sack they define. To be holy, divine. Yet is it but natural liquor; SUPPLEMENTAL Ale hath for its part. An addition of art To make it drink thinner or thicker. Sack’s fiery fume Doth waste and consume Men’s humidum radicale ; It scaldeth their livers. It breeds burning fevers. Proves vinum venenum reale. But history gathers. From aged forefathers That Ale’s the true liquor of life; Men liv’d long in health. And preserved their wealth. Whilst Barley-broth only was rife.* Sack quickly ascends, And suddenly ends— What company came for at first : And that which yet worse is. It empties men’s purses Before it half quenches their thirst. Ale is not so costly. Although that the most lye Too long by the oil of the barley; Yet may they part late. At a reasonable rate. Though they come in the morning early. Sack makes men from words Fall to drawing of swords. And quarrelling endeth their quaffing : Whilst Dagger-Ale barrels Bear off many quarrels. And often turn chiding to laughing. * Common — -frequent, abounding. NOTES. 395 Sack’s drink for our masters : All may be Ale-tasters ! Good things the more common the better : Sack’s but single broth : I Ale’s meat, drink, and cloth. Say they that know never a letter ! But not to entangle Old friends till they wrangle And quarrel for other men’s pleasure— Let Ale keep his place And let Sack have his grace. So that neither exceed the due measure.” * Sign. A. a. 5. A life according to Nature. “ And they define virtue to be—life ordered according to the prescript of nature.”—p. 285. The following old French verses give us a pleasing idea of a quiet, rural life, “ according to the prescript of nature; ” * This is followed by a still more humourous jeu d’esprit, shewing “ The triumph of Tobacco over Sack and Ale,” which begins thus ; Nay, soft, by your leaves ! Tobacco bereaves You both of the garland : forbear it! You are two to one— Yet Tobacco alone Is like both to win it, and wear it! &c. &c. &c. t is a little surprising, that, in the present rage for the literature of our ancestors, no bookseller has had the courage to reprint (subject to the omissions w lch a judicious editor would suggest,) this amusing and exceedingly rare poetical miscellany. Perhaps there is no clean copy of it in existence. [This facetious book was reprinted by the late John Camden Hotton about 1870. It forms the 2nd vol. of his Musarum Delicice .— Ed.] I will just add that another humourous song in praise of Tobacco maybe found in the second volume of Mr. Beloe’s entertaining Anecdotes of Literature, , ’ p ; !°;, where ma y be perused many sprightly “Old Songs” from the Oarnck Collection. 39^ SUPPLEMENTAL “Scais-tu, mon Chanlecy, comme j’aurois envie De vivre, pour passer heureusement la vie ? Suffisamment des biens, amassez sans labeur. Par liberalite de quelque donateur : Voir mes champs non ingrats fertiles chasque annee. Avoir tousiours bon feu dedans ma cheminee, Haranguer rarement, n’avoir aucun procez, L’esprit bien a repos, ne faire point d’excez, Estre en bonne sante, le corps net et agile. Sage simplicite, tenir table facile. Sans art de cuisinier, et encore je voudroy Des amis, ny plus grands, ny plus petits que moy; Une joyeuse nuit, n’etre toutefois yvre, Un lie chaste et gaillard, de tous soucis delivre, Le sommeil gracieux rendant courtes les nuits, Vouloir tant seulement estre ce que je suis, Ne souhaiter la mort, et moins encor la craindre, Je ne te spaurois mieux tous mes souhaits depeindre $ Que si je ne les puis entierement avoir, J’en pren ce que je puis, selon que je peux voir.” See pt. iii. p. 35, of that eccentric and witty book, called “ Les Bigarrures et Touches du Seigneur des Accords Rouen, i2mo. 1616. Five parts : with separate title pages. There is a good deal in these lines which reminds us of Horace’s Ode, “ Beatus ille qui procul negotiis i &c.” of which Pope (when he was a boy of twelve years of age) has given so beautiful an imi¬ tation. Hazvking. —p. 291. To the long note upon hawking here referred to, may be added the following curious admonition to the keepers of “ faukons ” in the mid¬ dle of the 16th century. “ But I would our faukons might be satisfied with the division of their prey, as the faukons of Thracia were, that they needed not to devour the hens of this realm, in such number, and that unless it be shortly considered, and that faukons be brought to a more homely diet, it is right likely, that within a short space of years, our familiar poultry shall be as scarce, as be now partridge and pheasant. I speak not this in dispraise of the faukons, but of them which keepeth them like NOTES. 397 Cokneys. The mean gentlemen and honest householders, which care for the gentle entertainment of their friends, do find in their dish that I speak truth, and noblemen shall right shortly espy it, when they come suddenly to their friend’s house, unpurveyed for lack of long warning.” Elyot’s Poke of the Governour , p. 61. rev. The subjoined figure is that of a man who used to attend the sport with hawks, or to sell them in the streets, thus arrayed. It is taken from the “Devices Heroiques de Paradin ,” edit, m.d.lxiii. fol. 173. A nearly similar figure sometimes appears in Wouverman’s paintings of this subject. hitz-Stephens tells us that the good citizens of London, in his time, " delighted themselves in hawks and hounds and Stow, in Q. Eliza¬ beth’s time, observes, that " sliding upon the ice is now but child’s play; but in hawking and hunting many grave citizens, at this pre¬ sent, have great delight, and do rather want leisure than good will to follow it.”— Survey of London , p. 94-6. edit. 1603. The Properties of the Soul. “ To the soul the y give intelligence, and that delectation that cometh of the contemplation of truth.”—p. 294. In the year 1642, was published at Cambridge, a thin duodecimo volume, written by H. M. Master of Arts, and Fellow of Christ’s colledge; called “'kYXfiAIA Platonica ; or a Platonicall Song of the Sou IP In this poem, divided into Books and Cantos, in the Spen- kl 39 ^ SUPPLEMENTAL serian measure, the offices and objects of the soul are sometimes very beautifully drawn.—It is full of Platonic mysticism; but there are passages in it of uncommon vigour and brilliancy. I suspect that Thomson, in his Castle of Indolence , had his eye as often upon this poem as upon Spenser. The similarities of thought and metre are frequent. Of the proper Use of Wine. All the Utopians grant it, (sc. eating and drinking) to be a right sovereign pleasure ; and, as you would say, the foundation and ground of all pleasure ; as which even alone is able to make the state and condition of life delectable and pleasant.”—p. 295, and see BULLEIN’S commendation of wine, p. 296, note. The late Dr. Darwin (as I have heard his friends say, and as I believe he somewhere insinuates, if not expressly avows, in his Zoonomia,) declared that excess of eating was not pernicious—but that the mischief lay in drinking —which, in every modification of strong liquor, he strenuously opposed. Dr. Thomas Whitaker, a physician who lived a century and a half before him, had an opinion so entirely different with respect to the drinking of wine, that he published a commendatory work upon it, under the title of “ The Blood of the Grape.” Printed in 1654, i2mo. The author very candidly begins by telling us his own case —“ I could render (says he) an empyricall argument from my own affect, which was then an “ Atrophia totius corporis ,” or consumption of the whole body, and left by the most perite physicians as incurable. My valetudinary temper then, being until the age of thirty years, affrighted at the sight of one glass of wine; being a strict observer of such advice as must be accompted more learned than my young studies could produce. But when I was left to my own free choice of any thing my reason could present, or appetite require, upon those grounds of philosophy which I had meditated. I did cast my anchor at the root of this plant; and, by the constant use of this juice, recovered, in the space of twelve months, perfection of cure; and have in such state of health continued twenty-two years after , and void of a consumptive disposition to this day.” He then says that “ This is a nectar and ambrosia for princes, and as pleasant contemplation for physitians, learnedly to undertake the practise of it,” 8cc., p. 95, 6. NOTES. 399 Bat, at p. 107, he prudently cautions the reader that “ the principal difficulty will be in obtaining - pure wine 'without sophistication : for which cause (says he) I can cordially commend, as much as desire, the Scottish severity established among the English nation —and that the sophisticators of wine may suffer punishment above any ordinary thief; as not only picking the purse of all nations, but with a secret veneme mixture paynfully afflicting them—no vehicle being so proper to conveigh any malignity or venemous quality to the universal spirits of any creature, as wine.” Our author is very curious about the different sorts of wine for different periods in life “ Adolescency being of a middle temper and predominancy, neither hot nor cold, nor moist nor dry, will moderately —and with observation of time, clime, and quantities, admit of white, daret , and rhenish wines, without any fear. Juventus, being of a temper more hot and dry, must, with the former aspects, apply itself to the forenamed wines; and if they sensibly appear not sufficiently moistening, it is sooner affected by the addition of a little of fountain water. Virile age, from 35 to 49, broacheth a vessel of more rich claret, and passeth out with the taste of the smallest Sack; which Senectus maketh more strong by more rich sack, muscadines and aligants, and continueth their use to the utter extent and period of life.” p. 101, 2. At pp. 86, 7, 8, we have an account of the wonderful effects of the “ Blood of the Grape,” in curing a melancholy Jew, a feverish Cardinal, an epileptic young Gentlewoman, a young Spaniard in a burning fever, and a citizen of Lucca, afflicted with vertigo and dizziness, &c. “ Wine (says a somewhat earler writer) yeelds good nourishment, I kee P es the bod y in health : neither is there any meat or drinke found so comfortable unto it, for the naturali heat and familiaritie it hath therewithal!; exceedingly strengthening digestion, the heat thereof being like unto our naturali heat; and therefore soon converted into pure and perfect blood. Moreover, it clarifies all thicke, grosse, and corrupt blood, and opens and clears the entrances and passages throughout the whole body, especially the veines; opening the stop¬ pings likewise in the pores and pipes of the body; driving away the dark mists, fumes, and follies begotten of sorrow between the fancy ;and the braine ; strengthening all the members of the body; chearing the heart, and making the mind forgetfull of sorrow; causing mirth, audacity, and sharpnesse of wit, enlightening the understanding; but all these with moderation. We conclude, in the generality, of the 400 SUPPLEMENTAL vertue and praise of wine, that the use of it is excellent:—the abuse set aside.” Philosopher’s Banquet , London, 1633, i2mo., p. 21. “ Many good thyngs come by drinking of wine sobrely; that is to say, the voydyng of coler, the quickeninge of the corporal might and wyt, and the aboundance of the subtyle spirites.” “Regimen Sanitatis Salerni ,” translated by T. Paynell, 1575, Fob liiii., a work of which some slight account is given at p. 392 ante. Pleasures of the Mind. “ They embrace chiefly THE PLEASURES OF THE MIND : for them they count the chiefest and most principal of all.” If the reader be anxious to peruse one of the best dissertations extant, on Mental Accomplishments , let him examine " An Introduc¬ tion to the Use of Books,” prefixed to an early Catalogue of books,* and described in the note beneath. “ Let us now (says the author) see the excellancy of Learning and Knowledge; and should I fathom this depth, my shallow capacity would be drowned ’ere I came nigh the bottom :®I should be lost in the pursuit: should I travel over these vast Perrenian mountains, I should be too long a coming to my journey’s end, and perhaps tire the reader to go with me ; but I’ll court brevity. Herein consists a part of their excellency, that they cannot be purchased with riches or monies, but with the sweat of the mind only; for were it not so, fools that are rich would be wise men, and all that have monies would be scholars; which is too great a paradox to interpret. And herein lies another part of the excellency of them—that, such minds as are soaked in learning and knowledge , have their intellectuals clarified; their natures softened; reason, which lay fallow and in theory only, is now forced into practice. That which was in bullion, is now coined * “ A Catalogue of the most vendible books in England, orderly and alpha¬ betically digested, &c. The like work never yet performed by any.” London 1658, 4to. As the pages of this book are not numbered, it will be necessary for the purchaser to see that it has an “ Epistle Dedicatory,’’ and an “Epistle to the Reader,” which precede the “ Introduction to the use of Books.” In this Introduction, almost every popular English writer, up to the period when it was composed, is quoted or referred to. Such an excellent treatise has never since accompanied any bookseller’s catalogue. NOTES. 401 and minted, having the stamp of majesty put upon it : the mind now flourishes with strong abilities; is made capable to help and guide others, and itself. Others are better, himself no worse. In the full view of this, Cicero cries out, ee Oh Wisdom, the guide of our life, the enemy to vice, and supporter of vertue” Sign D. 4. rev. and E. Again : “ These are the true riches which cannot be taken from me; which are situate from the finger of the greedy plunderer. The evil fate of cloudy times cannot make me compound for these riches within, nor can the sequesterer deprive me of a thought; they are beyond his reach. The freedom of my soul hath a charter to uphold it, that envy itself cannot touch nor break. I can traffic for knowledge in the midst of fiery combustions and perturbations, and no cannon can reach me. I can sit in a contemplative cabin, and no martial alarm can disturb me. These riches cannot be decimated. " That’s my happiness ”—says a noble mind thus loaden,—“ I can hide the greatest treasures in the world, and yet carry them with me, and not a burden more than the feathers of a bird, or the leaves of a tree.” Sign. E. 1. rev. Once more : “ Wisdom and KnoTvledge are the very loadstones and attracti ves of all honor; these are they which aggrandise a man’s acceptation to the most wise with great affection and courtesie. His worth is petpetuated with the remembrance of honor, when his dust is offensive. The beauty and lustre that learning and knowledge sets upon him that enjoys them, are their natural escutcheons. He that is thus qualified, is honored at home in the city where he lives, beloved by his country, and is indeed the honour of it. It’s better to be envied for thy parts above others, than pitied and laughed at for thy ignorance. For what is it, I pray tell me, that Caesar stands on record so much as for his learning ? So Homer, and all the royal philosophers, and thousands that can now be only reverenced in their graves—-their thoughts are as perfumes to study.”_Sign. E. 3. Consult also “ Learning’s Apology ,” p. 138. of Dr. Whitlock’s 6 U 0 T 0 MIA, or “ Observations on the present Manners of the English,” quoted at p. 391 ante. Face-painting ,; . . ... . Also as they count and reckon very little v/it to be in iim that regardeth not natural beauty and comeliness, so, O help the same with paintings, is taken for a vain and vantofi pride.”—p. 317. £ 402 SUPPLEMENTAL When the long note upon face-painting was inserted under this text, it did not occur to me to consult a singular performance upon the subject, well known to collectors, called “ The Loathsomnesse of Long Haire: with an Appendix against painting spots, naked backs and breasts, &c.” By Thomas Hall, B.D., London, 1654, i2mo. As a specimen of the style and mode of reasoning of this author, the reader is presented with the following : [Painting] “is the badge of an harlot; rotten posts are painted, and gilded nutmegs are usually the worst. We read but of one, in all the word of God, that ever painted herself, and that was Jezebel. No wonder then that they are ranged among harlots, who follow their guise. When people intend to sel or let their houses, they use to paint them; though I dare not say they are all harlots that paint, yet this I may safely say, they have the harlot’s badge, and their chastity is questionable—and therefore let all who would be accounted modest matrons, abhorre it. It becomes not the spouse of Christ, to go in the harlot’s guise. “ Lying is unlawful; but this painting and disguising of faces, is no better than dissimulation and lying. They teach their faces to lye, and to shew what it is not; and so by deceiving others, at last they deceive themselves : getting deformity instead of beauty; losing that true beauty which they have by nature. By their medicines and minerals, oft making their faces to wrinkle, their colour pale, oft poysoning their skin and dimming their eyesight.” *—p. 101-2. * Some account of the author of this singular treatise may be found in Wood’s Athen. Oxon. vol. II. col. 345,—where he is called “ a lover of books and learning, and of a retired and obscure life, never looking further than his beloved King's-Norton (his Living). He warmly espoused the Presbyterian Party, and seems to have been nearly as zealous as Prynne in shewing his ridiculous aversion to “ Bishops and Ceremonies.” A very high character of him was given in Richard Moore’s “ Pearl in an Oyster-shell, or pretious Trea¬ sure put in perishing Vessels.” Lond. 8vo. 1675. Wood, ibid. T. Hall, who was not destitute of classical learning, might have quoted the celebrated reply of Gyges to Candaules, when the latter wished him to view his wife naked,— irapd yap tolctl AvSoicn, cr^eSov Se /cat rvapa roiari dXXoicn fiapfiapoicn, xat dvSpa opOrjvau yvpivbv, is aicrgyvrjv p,eydXr]v <£epa. Herod. Clio. edit. Edinb. 1806. vol. 1. 29. NOTES. 403 Of Antient Artillery. “ Engines for war they devise and invent wondrous wittily.”—p. 338. Add to the note, subjoined to this text, the following: H [The following well-drawn figure is fac-similed from a wood-cut in the treatise of R. Valturius de Re Militari, from the press of “Johannes de Verona,” son of Nicholas the surgeon, and master of the art of printing, 1472. From the authorities quoted in Grose’s “Military Antiquities ,,” °1* T 5 2, ue l earn that fire arms were first used about the year 1460 -7, as mentioned by Monstrelet and Juvenal des Ursins. Fire arms ischarged by the hand were first called hand cannons, hand cul- C C I 404 # SUPPLEMENTAL verines, and hand guns; they afterwards acquired the appellation of hackbuts, harquebusses, muskets, and calivers, and lastly their present name of firelocks. Edward IVth. first introduced hand guns into this kingdom, by bringing with him, among other forces, 300 Flemings armed with hand-guns. This event took place in the year 1471. Dr. Anderson and other writers assign the date of their introduction to the year 1521, at the siege of Berwick. The musket is mentioned as a weapon of the infantry in Poland in the year 1475. Pistols were so called from being made at Pistoja or Pistoje in Tuscany : they are mentioned as early as the year 1544. Among the books referred to by Mr. Grose, in illustration of his amusing and very erudite work, I have not been able to discover an ancient one (of which I consider myself lucky in the possession of a copy) called “ Three Bookes of Colloquies concerning the Arte of Shoot¬ ing in great and small Peeces of Artillerie &c. &c. Translated by Cyprian Lucar, from the original Italian of Tartaglia, and adorned with numerous cuts. Impr. by J. Harrison, London, 1588. fol. The translation of the Italian extends to p. 80 : the original appendix, named “ Lucar Appendix,” contains 120 pages. The original, as it appears from Tartaglia’s dedication, was written in 1537—and considering the then infantine state of the art of gunnery, has uncommon merit—Lucar’s plates are very useful illustrations. The work was divided into colloquies by the translator; and from the 25th. (p. 46,7, in which the Interlocutors are Schioppetiero and Nicholas Tartaglia), I extract the following—for the benefit of such modern sportsmen who may not be acquainted with the skill, or the sporting dress, of our ancestors. NOTES. “ Schioppetiero . Certainly you say true therein : for you shall under¬ stand that I have, in my time, killed with my peece, 2000 little birdes, and my long experience hath taught mee to know that which now you have told mee. Therefore when I have occasion to shoote at any little birde sitting on a height upon a tree within a convenient distance, I take my marke alwayes at the feete of the bird—but when the bird sittes on a place lying level with my peece, then I take my mark pre¬ cisely at the body of the birde—and by so doing I doe seldomtimes misse with my shoote.* Omnipotence of the Deity. “Him they call the father of all. To him alone they attribute the beginning, the increasings, the proceedings, the changes, and the ends of all things.”—p. 3/14. Dr. Whitaker, in a book which has been before noticed, (vide p. 398) and which, from its title, does not seem to be calculated to afford a quotation analogous to the above text, has the following just remark. “ That therefore the vicissitudes and actions of things and humane nature, are not by chance, but by the ordination of the Almighty, ought to be a principle embraced by all Christian people ; and that God is the omnipotent and eternal fabricator of the whole universe out of nothing : as is affirmed by divine testimony. This edifice being so powerfully erected, is also by the same efficacy conserved; who hath also appointed to every created thing both a beginning and end, or termination of subsisting and moving; and doth take notice not only of principal but also of subsequent causes of things .”—The Blood of the Grape, p. 119. But I entreat the reader to examine (if he be fortunate enough to possess the book), “ The French Academy of Primaudaye : a work written in a style of peculiarly impressive eloquence—and which, not very improbably, was the foundation of Derham’s and Paley’s Natural Theology. It has been before alluded to at p. 313. * Herbert has accurately described the title of this work, but a great deal of curious remark and interesting quotation is connected with it. It was preceded by a somewhat similar work, called “N. Machiavei's Art of War," translated by 1 eter Whitehorne, 4to. 1560, which has an admirable engraving for the title-page, chiefly in the outline. The name of Niclas Inglande is printed beneath ; a name, which, if it be the engraver’s, has escaped the researches of all the writers upon the art of engraving which I have had an opportunity of consulting. 40 6 SUPPLEMENTAL IT [Charge of Cruelty against More. “ I cannot believe the idle stories which are told of him, when Lord Chancellor, of whipping and putting to death certain of the Reformers.”—p. 346, 7, note. The following extracts, in which More expresses his own sentiments and defends himself against his accusers, will help the reader to form an opinion for himself. The old spelling and contractions have been preserved. “ Howbeit there be swyne that receiue no lerning : but to defile it, and there be dogges that rent al good learning with their tethe.” “ If there be such swine and such dogges as in dede there bee, as our sauiour himself witnesseth in y e ghospell, if thys I say be truth as it is, that Tindall telleth vs nowe, than is it false that Tyndall tolde vs afore, that is to wit that al standeth in teaching. For those swine & those dogges will bee nought for all the good teaching. And than to kepe suche from doing harme, we muste not onely teach and preach, but vnto such as will be like swine, we must yoke them for breking hedges, and ringe them for wroting, and haue bandedogges to dryue them out of the corne with byting, and leade them out by the eares. And if there be such dogges as in dede there be, that rent all good learning w‘ theyr teth, then standeth not all the pith of good liuing in good teaching. For what auaileth to teach them that wyll not learne, but rent all good learninge with theire teth. And therefore to such dogges men may not onely preach, but must with whippes and battes beate them well, and kepe them fro tearing of good learning with their dogges teth, ye and from barking both, and chastice them & make them couch quaile, til they lye stil and harken what is sayd vnto them. And by such meanes be both swine kepte fro doing harme, and dogges, fall somtime so wel to learning, that they can stande vppe vpon theyr hinder feete, and holde theire handes afore them pretetely like a maide, ye & learne to daunce to after their maisters pype, such an effectuall thynge is punishement, whereas bare teaching wil not suffice. And who be now more proprely such dogges, then be these here- tikes y 1 barke against the blessed sacramentes, & teare with their dogges teach [? teeth] the catholique christen faith, and godly exposicions of the old holy doctours and saintes ? And who be more properly such hogges, the these heretykes of our dayes, of suche a filthy kind as neuer came before, which in such wise defile all holy vowed chastitie, that the very pure scripture of god they trede vpon with theyr foule dyrtye NOTES. 40; feete, to dfawe it fro al honest chastitie, into an vnclene shamefull lybertye of freres to wedde nunnes. And therefore vnto these hogges, and these dogges the pith of good living standeth not all in teching. For no good thinge wyll they learne without byting and beating.”— More’s Works, p. 586. " The lies are neither fewe nor small, that many of the blessed breth- rene haue made, and dayly yet make by me. Dyuers of theym haue saide that of suche as were in my house while I was chauncellour, I vsed to examine theym with tormentes, causinge theym to bee bounden to a tree in my gardeine, and there pituously beaten. And this tale had some of those good brethren so caused to be blowen aboute, that a right worshipfull friend of myne did of late within lesse then this fourtenight, tell vnto another nere friende of mine that he hadde of late hearde much speaking thereof. What can not these brethren say, that can be so shamelesse to say thus ? For of very trouth, albeit that for a greate robbery, or an heighnous murder, or sacriledge in a churche, wyth carieng awaye the pixe with the blessed sacramente, or vilanously casting it out, I caused somtyme suche thinges to be done by some officers of the Marshalsye, or of some other prisons, with whiche orderinge of them by their well deserued paine, and without any great hurt that afterward should sticke by them, I founde out and repressed many such desperate wretches as elles had not failed to haue gone farther abrode, and to haue aone to manye good folke, a greate deale muche more harme : yet though I so didde in theues, murderers, and robbers of churches, & notwithstanding also that heretikes be yet muche wursse then all they, yet sauing onelye their sure keeping, I neuer did els cause any suche thing to be done to any of them all in all my life, excepte onely twaine, of whiche the tone was a childe and a seruaunt of mine, in myne owne house, whom his father had ere euer he came with me, nousled vp in such matters, and had set him to attende vpon George Iaye or Gee, otherwise called Clerke which is a priest, and is now for all that wedded in Antwarpe, into whose house there, the twoo Nunnes were broughte, whiche Ihon Byrt, otherwise called Adrian, stale out of their cloyster to make them harlottes. This George Iaye didde teache this childe his vngraciouse heresie against y e blessed sacramet of the aulter, which heresie this childe afterwarde, beynge in seruice with me, beganne to teache another childe in my house, whiche vttered his counsaile. And vppon that 40 8 SUPPLEMENTAL poynte perceiued and knowen, I caused a seruaunt of myne to stryppe * hym lyke a childe before myne housholde, for amendement of himself, and ensample of such other. Another was one, whiche after that he had fallen into that frantik heresies, fell soone after into plaine open fransye beside. And all beit that he had therefore bene put vp in Bedelem, and afterward by beat¬ ing and correccion gathered his remembraunce to him, and beganne to come againe to himselfe, being thereuppon set at liberty, and walk- inge aboute abrode, his olde fansies beganne to fall againe in hisheade. And I was fro dyuers good holy places aduertised, that he vsed in his wandering about to come into the churche, and there make many mad toies and trifles, to the trouble of good people in the diuine seruice, & specially woulde he be most busye in the time of most silece, while the priest was at the secretes of the masse aboute the leuacion. And if he spied ani woman kneling at a forme, if her heade hinge anye thinge lowe in her medytacions, than woulde he steale behynde her, and if he were not letted, would labour to lyft vp al her clothes, and cast theim quite ouer her head. Whereupon I being aduertised of these page- auntes, and beinge sent vnto and required by very deuout relygious folke, to take some other order with him, caused him as he came wan- deringe by my doore, to be taken by the counstables, and bouden to a tree in the streete before the whole towne, and ther they stripped him with roddes therefore til he waxed weary, and somewhat lenger. And it appeared well that hys remembraunce was good inoughe, saue that it went about in grasing til it was beaten home. For he coulde than verye wel reherse his fautes himselfe, & speake and treate very well, and promise to doe afterward as well. And verylye God be thaked I heare none harme of him now. And of al that euer came in my hand for heresye, as helpe me God, sauing as I said the sure keeping of them, and yet not so sure neither, but that George Costatine could stele awaye : els had neuer any of the any stripe or stroke glue the, so muche as a fylyppe on the forehead. And some haue sayde that whan Costantine was gotten away, I was falle for anger in a woderful rage. But surely thoughe I woulde not haue suffered him go if it would haue pleased hym to haue taryed styl in the stockes, yet wha he was neither so feble for lack of meate but that he was strong inough to break the stockes, nor waxe so lame of his legges with lyeing, but that he was lyghte inough to leape the * Gave him stripes with rods. NOTES. 409 wall es, nor by anye myssehandelyng of his head so dulled or dased in hisbrayne, but that he had wyt inough whan he was ones out, wyselye to walke hys way, neyther was I than so heauye for the losse, but that I hadde youthe ynough left me to weare it out, nor so angry wyth any manne of myne that I spake them any euyl word for the matter, more then to my porter that he should se the stockes mended and locked fast, that the prisoner stale not in again. And as for Constantyne hym selfe, I coulde hym in good faith good thanke. For neuer wyl I for my parte be so vnreasonable, as to be angrye wyth anye man y‘ ryseth if he can, whan he fyndeth himselfe that he sytteth not at hys ease. But now tell the brethren many merueylous lyes, of muche cruell tor- mentynge that heretikes had in my house, so farfoorth that one Segar a booke seller of Cabridge whych was in myne house aboute foure or fyue dayes, and neuer had eyther bodelye harme done hym, or foule woorde spoken hym while he was in myne house, hath reported synce, as I heare say to dyuers, that he was bounde to a tree in my gardeyne, and thereto to pytuouselye beaten, and yet besyde that bounden aboute the heade wyth a corde and wrongen, that he fell downe deade in a swowne. And thys tale of hys beatynge, dydde Tyndall tell to an olde ac- quayntaunce of his own, and to a good louer of mine wyth one peece farther yet, that whyle the man was in beating, I spyed a lytle purse of his hanginge at hys doublette, wherein the poore man had (as he sayd) fyue marke, and that caught I quyckly to me, and pulled it from his doublette, and put it in my bosom, and that Segar neuer sawe it after, and therein I trow he sayde true, for no more dyd I neyther nor before neither, nor I trowe no more did Segar himself neither in good faith.”— More’s Works, pp. 901-2.] A virtuous Fame. “And in the same place they set up a pillar of stone, ^ ith the dead man’s titles therein engraved. When they be come home, they rehearse his virtuous manners and his good deeds. They think that this remembrance of the virtue and goodness of the dead, doth vehemently provoke and enforce the living to virtue.”—p. 352. 4io. SUPPLEMENTAL The following remarkably strong passage upon this subject should not be withheld from the reader. “ No matter in which of the ele¬ ments the body lodgeth, so longas the soul rests in Abraham’s bosom. It is the virtue we leave behind, or rather carry with us, that is im¬ mortal. A good fame is the best odour, and a good name is a precious ointment which will condite our bodies best, and preserve our memories to all eternity. Such a lasting monument as this would better have preserved our Eighth luxurious Henry, than Wolsey’s half-finished monument at Windsor; which neither his own posterity, nor any of his successors since, thought it worth the while to perfect. Poor Laz¬ arus, as he had the starry heaven for his canopy, so was that his tomb; though he was fed at the door amongst the dogs, yet he lay buried in his mother’s lap, attended hence with his owne innocence, and a guard of angels. “ It is not then eulogiums, panegyrick orations, dirges, epitaphs, heralds, mourners, obelisks, obsequies, or mausolaean monuments, so well as their own coins wherein they are effigiated, can eternize princes. Let them live exemplar monuments. Let their prince-like acts and actions write their epitaphs, and be their chief monuments; since only virtue “post funera vivit:” and “— coelo tegitur, qui non habet urnam.” For, doubtless, that man’s bones on the North Church Yard rests in more quiet than his that lie entombed in the Chancel .” Paradoxical Assertions , &c. Lond. 1659. i2mo. p. 44— 5 - For an account of this work, see p. 56. Soothsaying , Astrology, Alchemy, Magic, Witchcraft. “ They utterly despise and mock soothsayings, and divi¬ nations of things to come, and all other divination of vain superstition.”—p. 354. Among these “vain superstitions,” More ranks AIchemy, as well as Astrology . The latter is expressly noticed at p. 282. I beg leave to direct the reader’s attention to a very extraordinary book “ Of Natural and Supernatural Things ,” written by Basilius Valen¬ tinus, a Benedictine Monk, and translated by Daniel Cable, London, i2mo. 1670. The author tells us, (at p,6i, 2.) that he does “ not give himself out for one who knows to calculate the course of the heavens— for (says he) I should spend my time in my cell in prayer; but that the spare hours after my devotion is ended, may not be spent in vain, NOTES. 4 i i I have ordered and proposed it as my aim and intent to exercise my¬ self, and to spend those hours in the knowledge of natural things.” At p.89, he thus observes —“ How shall we now do ? the gross dull- witted lads will not apprehend it; the middle sort of wits will take no notice of what I write; and the supernatural wits will descant too much upon it.”—Again he remarks at p. 131—“ My persecutors and indis¬ creet physicians will now tell me thou talkest much of geese, and knowest not a duck—who knows whether all that thou writest be true ? —He that is of such a resolution, may remain with the ducks; for he is not worthy of a roasted goose, nor to learn what is concealed in nature.” That our worthy Monk gave too just cause to be laughed at, by all the tribe of wits and philosophers, will sufficiently appear from the fol¬ lowing specimen—from the third chapter “On the Spirit of Mercury .” “ And that I may further declare what is the essence, matter, and form of the Spirit of Mercury, I say that its essence is blessed; its matter spiritual; and its form earthly; which yet must he understood by an incomprehensible vuay ! These are indeed harsh expressions : many will think thy proposals are all vain, strange effusions, raising wonderful imaginations : and true it is, they are strange—and require strange people to understand these sayings. It is not written for peasants, how they should grease cart-wheels, &c. &c.” But the achme of this “ vain superstition ” will be found in the seventh Chapter “ Of the Spirit of Gold,” which is equalled only by the mysterious nonsense and wild ravings of Swendenborg and Southcot ! Akin to this work, and ranking among the “vain superstitions” of More, are the treatises upon Witchcraft and Magic. Of the latter we have a curious little book, written under the feigned name of Eugenius Philalethes —with the following title: “Magia Adamica : or The Antiquitie of Magic, and the Descent thereof from Adam downwards proved. Whereunto is added a perfect and full Discoverie of the true Coelum Terree, or the Magician’s Heavenly Chaos, and first matter of all things.” London, 1650, i2mo. Whatever may be the subject matter of this work, the style and the learning of the author are admirable. The love of metaphor has been seldom more strikingly displayed than in the following passage : “ I have not without some labour, now traced this science (of magic) from the very fall of man to the day of his redemption. A long, and solitary pilgrimage ! the paths being unfrequented because of the Briars, and scruples of antiquitie—and, in some places, overgrown with the Poppie 412 SUPPLEMENTAL of oblivion. I will not deny but in the Shades and /w of this Wilder - nesse , there are some Birds of Night, Ozvles and Bats, of a different feather from our Phoenix —I mean, some Conjurers, whose dark in¬ direct affection to the name of Magic, made them invent traditions more prodigious than their practices. These I have purposely avoyded, lest they should 'worni'wood my stream, and I seduce the reader through all these Groves and Solitudes, to the vuaters of Mar ah.” —p. 64, 5. The following is in a different strain—" For thy better intelligence thou must know that Spirits, whiles they move in Heaven, which is the Fire- World, contract no impurities at all: according to that of Stellatus; Omne quod est supra Lunam, ceternumque bonumque. Esse scias, nec triste aliquid Coelestia tangit. “ All (sayth hee) that is above the moon, is eternal! and good, and there is no corruption of heavenly things. On the contrary, when Spirits descend to the Elementall Matrix, and reside in her kingdom, they are blurr’d with the original leprosie of the matter; for here the curse raves and rules; but in heaven it is not predominant. To put an end to this point, let us hear the admirable Agrippa state it. This is hee, between whose lipps the truth did breathe, and knew no other oracle.” p. 125—6. It would be absurd to attempt to give, within the compass of a note. an outline of the principal works which appear to have so deeply in¬ terested our ancestors on the subject of Witchcraft. To say nothing of the renowned Cornelius Agrippa, Scott’s ^Dis¬ covers of Witchcraft ,” printed by Broome, (with the types of Jugge, as I suspect,) in 1584* 4 t°* will not fail to interest the curious reader, since it has been so frequently quoted in illustration of Shakspeare by Messrs. Steevens, Malone, and Douce. It was reprinted in 1651, 4to. and again in 1665, fol. but the first is the most beautiful as well as a rare edition. In the 17th century the subject was warmly discussed by Glanvill, K. James I., Meric Casaubon, H. More, and Webster; and by Hutchinson and De Foe in the 18th century. Many others, and especially foreign writers might be noticed ; but the reader is referred to Morhof s Poly hist. Literar. vol. ii. lib. iii. (edit. 1747.) and the valu¬ able catalogues of Farmer, Steevens, and Reed,—as well as to the Bibl. Universalis Selecta of Paterson, 1786, 8vo : a work, which I would strongly recommend to every one who is desirous of a guide in the formation of a judicious and not too extensive library. It does great credit to the memory of poor Paterson, whose like we shall rarely see again ! ! NOTES. 413 Of subordinate treatises upon Witchcraft, the list is endless ; al¬ though I would by no means be supposed to include in this list the “Physica curiosa , sive Mirabilia Naturae et Artis ” of Schotus, com¬ prehending upwards of 1400 closely printed quarto pages. (Edit. 1667.) Boulton’s Medicina Magica tamen Physica , 1665, 12 mo. has a great deal of curious reading in it : the Dedication * is a fair specimen of that inflated yet imposing style in which most of these treatises were written. The “ Comte de Gabalis, ou Entretiens sur les Sciences Secrettes ” furnished Pope with the machinery for his Rape of the Lock; and the 6th pagef of this work is another striking proof of the * To the Ryht Honourable the Marquess of Dorchester. My Lord , The candor of your affections to these Mscidapian mysteries, by divers of my acquaintance frequently related unto me, together with the promptitude of your genius to those sublime and inestimable treasures occulted in spagirical opera¬ tions, hermetically performed, have pressed on my presumption to this Dedica¬ tory Epistle, without your Honor’s consent or licence first obtained. Horace had his Maecenas and Virgil his Augustus ; and it is the accustomed manner of our modern writers, alwaies to palliate themselves under the protection of some worthy Patron. I question not but that harmonious temper of your well dis¬ posed nature, will accept in good part the rash attempt of your well meaning, and yet unknown servant. I confess it is unworthiness to stamp the impression of your Honour’s title upon such an abortive ; and could I imagine the child in the future would become the least disparagement to the dignity of the Godfather, I would even now strangle it in the cradle. Vouchsafe then (most gracious Lord) one smile from your serene countenance upon this tender infant, cast out into the wilde worlde, ready to be devoured with the duplicated teeth of Zoilian sharks. The shadow of your Honour’s wings is the only solace it can expect, to whose tuition I only commit it for protection. Humbly imploring your Lord¬ ship’s favourable construction of this my incivility, I take leave, and rest, Your Honour’s, &c. t “ Si je n’ay pas assez de grandeur d’ame, pour essayer de devenir le maitre de la nature, de renverser les ele'mens, d’entretenir les intelligences supremes, de commander aux Demons, d’engendrer des Geans, de creer de nouveaux mondes, de parler a Dieu dans son trone redoutable ; et d’obliger le Cherubin, qui defend l’entre'e du Paradis terrestre, de me permettre d’aller faire quelques tours dans ses allees ; c’est moy tout au plus qu’il faut blamer ou plaindre ; il ne faut pas pour cela insulter k la memoire de cet Homme rare [Le Comte De Gabalis ], et dire qu’il est mort pour m’avoir appris toutes ces choses. Est-il impossible que, comme les ames sont journalises, il ait succombe dans quelque combat avec quelque Lutin indocile ? Peut-etre qu’en pariant a Dieu dans le Trone en- flamme, il n’aura pu se tenir de le regarder en face; or il est ecrit qu’on ne peut le regarder sans mourir. Peut-etre n’est il mort qu’en apparence, suivant la coutume des Philosophies, qui font semblant de mourir en un lieu, et se transplantent en un autre.” Edit. Cologne. 12mo. No date. 4 X 4 SUPPLEMENTAL daring sentiments and elevated language which frequently charac¬ terised these compositions. On consulting Barbier’s Diet, des Oeuv- rages Anonymes et Pseudonymes (Paris 8vo. 1806, tom, i. No. 821. I find that this book was written by the Abbe de Montfaucon Di Villars, and was first printed at Paris in 1670, i2mo. With what apparent interest the celebrated author of the " Lay ol the last Minstrel ” and “ Marmion,” has pursued the subject of whief we are treating, see his “ Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border,” vol. i p. xc to cv : vol. ii. p. 109 to 176. edit. 1806. At the end of his “ Life of Dryden ” we have the following ingenious and just sentiments upor the tendency of these studies. “ Those superstitious sciences and pursuits, w’hich would, by mystic rites, doctrines, and inferences, connect us with the invisible world 0 spirits, or guide our daring researches to a knowledge of future events are indeed usually found to cow, crush, and utterly stupify, under, standings of a loTuer rank; but if the mind of a man of acute foiveri and of warm fancy, becomes slightly imbued with the visionary feelings excited by such studies, their obscure and undefined influence is eve; found to aid the sublimity of his ideas, and to give that sombre and serious effect, which he can never produce, who does not himself fee the awe which it is his object to excite. The influence of such a mystic creed is often felt where the cause is concealed; for the habits thus acquired are not confined to their own sphere of belief, but graduall} extend themselves over every adjacent province : and perhaps we mai not go too far in believing, that he who has felt their impression, thougl only in one branch of faith, becomes fitted to describe, with an air 0: reality and interest, not only kindred subjects, but superstitions alto¬ gether opposite to his own.” p. 506—7. Very different from these sentiments were those of Father C. Cle me nt, a Jesuit; who, in his curious treatise, called “ M 7 iscei sive Bib Uoihecce extructio, instructio, cura, usus, &c. Lugduni 1635. 4to,” at p 389, &c. wished all books relating to Magic and Astrology to be ex eluded. See Peignot’s Diction. &c. des principaux Livres condamne; au feu, supprimes, ou censures,* tom i. xxx. Paris, 1806. 8vo. Mr. G. S. Rose, in his splendid and interesting publication c “ Partenoplex de Blois ,” has favoured us with some curious observa * This is a very ingenious and amusing work of Peignot—little known i our country. The author is, however, occasionally subject to the same censur which he passes on G. Puy-Herbaut—“ il est trop prolixe ; la precision lti manque.” p. xxix. NOTES. 415 tions on this subject in the notes to the Second Canto; but I question if the reader’s attention can be directed to a more extraordinary per¬ formance relating to Witchcraft , than to a little sixpenny pamphlet, recently published, under the following title—(which may hereafter be considered a curiosity, as giving evidence of the serious belief in the Black Art , at the opening of the 19th century.) " The Iniquity of Witchcraft censured and exposed: being the Substance of Two Sermons delivered at Warley , near Halifax, Yorkshire , By T. Hawkins, 8vo. 1808.” Bagster, London. The ensuing specimen may be considered sufficiently curious and amusing. (I have no doubt that the author has stated these facts accurately from the documents given him.) “The following is transcribed from the copy presented by Mr. K—g. “In the name of Jesus Christ, I call upon thee through power will command such creatures, Drimoth, Bellmoth, Lymock, I conjure you up to fetch me back the watch of J-C-r, that was stolen on the ninth day of August, 1807, in the house of man, to bring the mat¬ ter to true light, and to confess the said watch and to the party the owner, to have his watch again in so short time as may be pleasing and acceptable to the Almighty. God will have the whole matter made known in this order without any further trouble unto the parties. I. G. H. name of the angels Satan and Agemon, that you attend to me in the hour acceptable to the Almighty God, and send unto me a spirit called Sagrigg, to torment the thief both day and night, that he do fulfil my command, and desire to fetch back the vuatch in nomen de patri an filii.” (Here follows some more unintelligible Latin.) “I by these creatures shall make them to yield through God’s help, to their sorrow, by the authority of the Omnipotent, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, and by the holy virgin Mary mother of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the holy angels and archangels, and of St. Michael and St. John the Baptist, and in behalf of St. Stephen and all the martyrs, St. Sylvester and all the confessors, the holy virgins, and all the saints in heaven and earth. Unto whom there is given power to bind all those spirits, to bring the thief to judgment, that have stolen the watch. And here, we do excommunicate, damn, curse, and bind with the knots and bonds of- excommunication all the thieves, male or female, that have committed this theft or mischief to J-C-, of Causeyfoot, or have accepted any part thereof to their own use. Let them have part with Judas who betrayed Christ, Amen.-Let their children be made orphans. Cursed be the thief, be they in the field, in the grove, in the woods, in their houses, barns, chambers, and 4 i 6 SUPPLEMENTAL beds, that have stolen the watch. And cursed be they in the church, the church yard,—in eating, in walking, in sleeping, in drinking, in sitting, kneeling, standing, lying, in all their works, in their body and soul, and in their five wits. And cursed be the heart, back, liver, bowels, and spleen. And cursed be their head,—and their arms,—and the hands which took the watch. And cursed be their flesh, and cursed be their bones, and the marrow that is within their bones. And cursed be they-by the milk of the virgin Mary. I conjure thee, Lucifer, with all thy soldiers, by the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,—that the thief rest not day nor night, till thou restore the watch again to J- C-, acceptable to Almighty God-Bring them to destruction,- And let the torments of hell be strong upon them for ever. Amen.” “There is a man who has lately set up in this diabolical profession at L-n, and has in some instances, thirty people at a time waiting on him ! ! !-A certain child being ill (in W. T.) it was suggested by a female friend, that perhaps it had “ hurt done it” A phrase used to signify bewitched. The above friend obtained a wizard’s charm : this was to be worn by the afflicted child for its relief and cure. It cost two shillings. But the mother having no faith in charms, instead of putting it on her child, she very wisely put it in the fire.” “ I knew a woman whose husband being very ill, she conceived that he was bewitched. And she expended about eleven shillings on a wizard for his efficacious charms, but, alas ! her husband died. The death of her husband did not convince her of the inefficacy of charms. She purchased no less than three for her own benefit. One she wore in her cap,— a second was sewed in her stays,—and a third was nailed against the door of her house !-For one of these charms, I under¬ stood she paid the sum of 2s. 4d.” Preface p. iv. v. vi. The following extracts are literally reprinted from the folio of 1557* They are not so difficult to read as they may appear at a first glance. The long mark ( ' ) shows there is a letter omitted after it,—generally an m or an n , as daning=damning; tokes=tokens ; confessio=con- fession; saites^saints; chauge=chaunge (change); y e =the; that; y u =you; w‘=with; w l out=without; u is often put instead of v, and v instead of u; yin place of i, and I instead of J. extracts from 09 ote’£ Ofllotfig. ORE’S WORKS are so voluminous, and so largely made up of controversies about matters uninteresting to most people, that it is very unlikely any complete edition of them will ever be reprinted ; but they contain so many good things, and throw so much light on the manners, customs, and style of thought of his time, that the reader will probably be glad to have here some additions to the few extracts given by Dibdin at the commencement of this volume. It is difficult to say whether More’s genial manner of telling a humourous tale, or his graphic power of pre¬ senting a moving tragedy to our notice, is most deserving of admiration. The Queen in Sanctuary. “ With which tidinges y e quene in gret fright & heuines, bewailig her childes rain, her fredes mischance, & her own infortune, daning the time that euer shee diswaded the gatheryng of power aboute the kinge, gate her selfe in all the haste possible with her yonger sonne and her doughters oute of the Palyce of Westminster in whiche shee then laye, into the Sainctuarye, lodginge her selfe and her coumpanye there in the Abbottes place. Nowe came there one in likewise not longe after myddenighte, fro the Lorde Chaumberlayn vnto the archbishoppe of Yorke then Chaun- celler of Englande, to his place not farre from Westminster. And for that he shewed his seruauntes that hee hadde tidinges of soo greate w 4i8 EXTRACTS FROM importaunce, that his maister gaue him in charge, not to forbeare his reste, they letted not to wake hym, nor hee to admitte this messenger in to his bedde syde. Of whome hee hard, that these dukes were gone backe with the Kynges grace from Stonye Stratforde unto Northampton. Notwith¬ standing sir quod hee, my Lorde sendeth youre Lordeshippe woorde, that there is no feare. For hee assureth you that all shall bee well. I assure him quod the Archebishoppe bee it as well as it will, it will neuer bee soo well as wee haue seene it. And thereuppon by and by after the messenger departed, hee caused in all the haste al his ser- uauntes to bee called vppe, and so with his owne householde aboute hym, and euerie manne weaponed, hee tooke the greate Seale with him, and came yet beefore daye vnto the Queene. Aboute whome he found muche heauinesse, rumble, haste and businesse, carriage and conueyaunce of her stuffe into Sainctuary, chestes, coffers, packes, fardelles, trusses, all on mennes backes, no manne vnoccupyed, somme lading, somme goynge, somme descharging, somme commynge for more, somme breakinge downe the walles to bring in the nexte waye, and somme yet drewe to them that holpe to carrye a wronge waye. The Quene her self satte alone alowe on the rishes all desolate and dismayde, whome the Archebishoppe coumforted in the best manner hee coulde, shewinge her that hee trusted the matter was nothynge soo sore as shee tooke it for. And that he was putte in good hope and oute of feare, by the message sente him from the Lorde Chamberlaine. Ah woo worthe* him quod she, for hee is one of them that laboureth to destroye me and my bloode. Madame quod he, be ye of good chere. For I assure you if thei crowne any other kinge then your sonne, whome they nowe haue with them, we shal on the morowe crowne his brother whome you haue here with you. And here is the greate Seale, whiche in likewise as that noble prince your housebande deliuered it vnto me, so here I deliuer it vnto you, to the vse and behoofe of youre sonne, and therewith hee betooke her the greate Seale, and departed home agayne, yet in the dauninge of the daye. By which tyme hee might in his chaumber window, see all the Temmes full of bootes of the Duke of Gloucesters seruantes, watchinge that no manne shoulde go to Sainctuary, nor none coulde passe vnserched. Then was there greate commocion and murmure as well in other places about, as specially in the city, the people diuerselye diuininge vppon this deal- * The translator of the Utopia uses a nearly similar phrase, see p. 314, ante. MORE’S WORKS. 419 inge. And somme Lordes, Knightes, and Gentlemenne either for fauoure of the Quene, or for feare of themselfe, assembled in sundry coumpanies, and went flockmele in harneis : and manye also, for that they reckened this demeanoure attempted, not so specially againste the other Lordes, as agaynste the kinge hymselfe in the disturbaunce of hys Coronation.”— More’s Works (Richard iii.) 1557, p. 43. The abuses of Sanctuary. “What a rabble of theues, murtherers, and malicious heyghnous Traitours, and that in twoo places specyallye. The tone at the elbowe of the Citie, the tother in the verye bowelles. I dare well auowe it, waye the good that they dooe, with the hurte that commeth of them, and ye shall fynde it muche better to lacke bothe, then haue bothe. And this I saye, although they were not abused as they nowe bee, and so longe haue bee, that I feare mee euer they wyll bee whyle menne bee a fearde to sette theyr handes to the mendement: as thoughe Godde and Saincte Peter were the Patrons of vngracious lyuinge. Nowe vnthriftes ryote and runne in Dette, vppon the boldenesse of these places : yea and ryche menne runne thither with poore mennes goodes, there they builde, there thei spende and bidde their creditours gooe whistle them. Mens wyues runne thither with theyr housebandes plate, and saye, thei dare not abyde with theyr housbandes for beatinge. Theues bryng thyther theyr stollen goodes, and there lyue thereon. There deuise thei newe roberies, nightlye they steale out, they robbe and reue, and kyll, and come in again as though those places gaue them not onely a safe garde for the harme they haue done, but a licence also to dooe more.”— More’s Works, (Richard iii.) p. 47. The Beheading of Lord Hastings. Many Lordes assembled in the tower, and there sat in counsaile, deuising the honorable solepnite of the kinges coronacion, of which the time appointed then so nere approched, that the pageauntes and suttelties were in making day and night at Westminster, and much vitaile killed therfore, that afterward was cast away. These lordes so sytting togyther comoning of thys matter, the protectour came in among them, fyrst aboute ix. of the clock, saluting them curtesly, & excusyng hymself that he had be from them so long, saieng merely that he had bene a slepe that day. And after a little talking w* them, he sayd vnto y e Bishop of Elye : my lord you haue very good D D 420 EXTRACTS FROM strawberies at your gardayne in Holberne, I require you let vs haue a messe of them. Gladly my lord, quoth he, woulde god I had some better thing as redy to your pleasure as that. And therwith in al the hast he sent hys seruat for a messe of strauberies. The protectour sette the lordes fast in comoning, and therupon prayeng them to spare hym for a little while, departed thence. And sone after one hower betwene x. & xi. he returned into y e chamber among them, al chaged with a wonderful soure angrye countenaunce, knitting the browes, frowning and froting and knawing on hys lippes, & so sat him downe, in hys place : al the lordes much dismaied & sore mer- ueiling of this maner of sodain chauge, and what thing should him aile. Then when he had sitten still a while, thus he began : what were they worthy to haue, that compasse & ymagine the distruccio of me, being so nere of blood vnto y e king & protectour of his riall person & his realme. At this question, al y e lordes sat sore astonied, musyng much by whome thys question should be ment, of which euery ma wyst himselfe clere. Then the lord chamberlen, as he y* for the loue betwene the thoughte he might be boldest w‘ him, aunswered and sayd, y t thei wer worthye to bee punished as heighnous traitors what- soeuer they were. And al the other affirmed the same. That is (quoth he) yonder sorceres my brothers wife & other w‘ her meaning y e quene. At these wordes many of the other Lordes were gretly abashed y* fauoured her. But the lord Hastinges was in his minde better cotent, that it was moued by her, the by any other whom he loued better : Albeit hys harte somewhat grudged, that he was not afore made of counsell in this mater as he was of y e taking of her kinred, and of their putting to death, which were by his assent before, deuised to bee byhedded at Pountfreit, this selfe same day, in which he was not ware y 1 it was by other deuised, that himself should the same day be behedded at London. The said the protectour: ye shal al se in what wise that sorceres and that other witch of her counsel shoris wife w* their affynite, haue by their sorcery & witchcraft wasted my body. And ther w* he plucked vp hys doublet sleue to his elbow vpon his left arme, where he shewed a werish withered arme and small, as it was neuer other. And there¬ upon euery manes mind sore misgaue the, well perceiuing that this matter was but a quarel. For wel thei wist, that y e quene was to wise to go aboute any such folye. And also if she would, yet wold she of all folke leste make Shoris wife of counsaile, who of al women she most hated, as that cocubine who the king her husbad had most MORE’S WORKS. 421 loued. And also no ma was there preset, but wel knew that his harme was euer such since his birth. Natheles the lorde Chamberlen (which fro y e death of king Edward kept Shoris wife, on whoe he sowhat doted* in the kinge’s life, sauing as it is sayd he that while forbare her of reuerence towarde hys king, or els of a certaine kinde of fidelite to hys frende) aunswered & sayd : certainly my lorde if they haue so heinously done, thei be worthy heinouse punishement. What quod the protectour thou seruest me I wene w* iffes & with andes, I tel the thei haue so done, & that I will make good on thy body traituor. And therw 1 as in a great anger, he clapped his fist vpon y e horde a great rappe. At which token giuen, one cried treason with¬ out the cabre. Therwith a dore clapped, and in come there rushing men in harneys as many as y e chambre might hold. And anon the protectour sayd to the lorde Hastinges : I arest the traitour. Wkat me my Lorde quod he. Yea the traitour, quod the protectour. And a nother let flee at the Lorde Standley which shronke at the stroke & fel vnder the table, or els his hed had be clefte to the tethe : for as shortely as he shranke, yet ranne the blood aboute hys eares. Then were they al quickly bestowed in diuerse chambres, except y e lorde Chamberlen, who the protectour bade spede & shryue hym a pace, for by saynt Poule (quoth he) I will not to dinner til I se thy hed of. It boted him not to aske why but heuely he toke a priest at adueture, & made a short shrift, for a longer would not be suffered, the protectour made so much hast to dyner : which he might not go to til this wer done for sauing of his othe. So was he brought forth into the grene beside the chappel wfin the tower, & his head laid down vpon a long log of timbre, and there striken of, and afterward his body with the hed entred at Windsore beside the body of kinge Edward, whose both soules our lord pardon. A merueilouse case is it to here, either the warninges of that he shoulde haue voided, or the tokes of that he could not voide. For the self night next before his death, y® lord Standley sent a trustie secret messenger vnto him at midnight in al the hast, requiring hym to rise & ryde away with hym, for he was disposed vtterly no lenger to bide : he had so fereful a dreme, in which him thoughte that a bore with his tuskes so raced the both bi the heddes, that the blood ranne aboute both their shoulders. And forasmuch as the protector gaue the bore for his cognisaunce, this dreme made so fereful an impressio in his * See p. 256 for Dibdin’s extraordinary note on this very common word. 422 EXTRACTS FROM hart, y 4 he was throughly determined no leger to tary, but had his horse redy, if y e lord Hastinges wold go w 4 him to ride so far yet y e same night, that thei shold be out of dager ere dai. Ey good lord quoth y e lord Hastiges to this messeger, leneth my lord thi master so much to such trifles, & hath such faith I dremes, which either his own fere fatasieth or do rise in y e nightes rest by reson of his daye thoughtes. Tel hi it is plaine witchraft to beleue in suche dremes : which if they wer tokens of thiges to come, why thinketh he not that we might be as likely to make the true by our going if we were caught & brought back (as frendes fayle fleers) for then had the bore a cause likely to race vs w 4 his tuskes, as folke that fled for some falshed, wherfore either is there no peryl, nor none there is in dede : or if any be, it is rather in going the biding. And if we should nedes cost fall in perill one way or other : yet had I leuer y 4 men should se it wer by other mes falshed, the thinke it were either our owne faulte or faint hart. And therfore go to thy master man, & comende me to him, & pray him be mery & haue no fere : for I ensure hym I am as sure of the man y 4 he woteth of, as I am of my own hand. God sende grace sir quoth the messenger, and went his way. Certain is it also, y 4 in y e riding toward y e tower, y e sae mornig in which he was behedded, his hors twise or thrise stubled w 4 hi almost toy e falling, which thing albeit eche man wote wel daily happeneth to the to who no such mischauce is toward : yet hath it ben of an olde rite & custome, obserued as a token often times natably foregoing some great misfortune. Now this y 4 foloweth was no warning, but an enemiouse scorne. The same morning ere he were vp, came a knight vnto him, as it were of curtesy to accompany hym to the connsaile, but of trouth sent by the protector to hast him thitherward, wyth who he was of secret confederacy in that purpose, a meane man at that time, and now of gret auctorite. I his knight whe it happed the lord Chamberlen by y e way to stay his horse, and comen a while w 4 a priest whome he met in the tower strete, brake his tale & said merely to him : what my lord I pray you come on, whereto talke you so long w 4 that priest, you haue no nede of a prist yet: & therw 4 he laughed vpo him, as though he would say, ye shal shal haue sone. But so litle wist y e tother what he ment, & so little mistrusted, that he was neuer merier nor neuer so full of good hope in his life : which self thing is often sene a signe of chauge. But I shall rather let anye thinge passe me, then the vain sureti of mas mind so nere his deth. Upon the very tower wharfe so nere the place where his hed was of so sone after, there met he w th one Hastinges, a 1 MORE’S WORKS. 423 purseuat of his own name. And of their meting in y‘ place, he was put in remebrauce of an other time, in which it had happened the before, to mete in like maner togither in the same place. At which other tyme the lord Chamberlein had ben accused vnto king Edward, by y e lord Riuers y e quenes brother, in such wise y l he was for y e while (but it lasted not long) farre fallen into y e kinges indingacid, & stode in gret fere of himselfe. And for asmuch as he nowe met this purseuat in the same place that iubardy so wel passed : it gaue him great pleasure to talke w l him therof w‘ whom he had before talked thereof, in the same place while he was therin. And therfore he said : Ah hastiges, art y u remebred whe I met thee here ones with an heuy hart: Yea my lord (quoth he) that remembre I wel, & thanked be God they gate no good, nor ye none harme thereby. Thou wouldest say so quoth he, if thou knewest asmuch as I know, which few know els as yet & moe shall shortly. That met he by the lordes of the quenes kindred that were take before, and should that day be be- hedded at Poufreit: which he wel wyst, but nothig ware that y e axe hang ouer his own hed. In faith man quoth he, I was neuer so sory, nor neuer stode in so great dread in my life, as I did when thou and I met here. And lo how y e world is turned, now stad mine enemies in y e dauger (as thou maist hap to here more hereafter) & I neuer in my life so mery, nor neuer in so great suerty. O good god, the blindnes of our mortali nature, when he most feared, he was in good suerty : whe he rekened him self surest, he lost his life, & that w th in two howres after.— More’s Works , pp. 53-55* An early version of an oft-told tale. “ Me thinketh that this deuice is not much wiser, than the deuice that a good felow deuised ones for his neyghbour, that had a great hillocke in hys close, whych for planing of the grounde hee counsayled hym to haue it away. Mary quoth his neighbour I must cary it than so farre, that it wer lesse losse to me to giue away the close and al. Mary neighbour quoth the tother, I shall soone finde awaye for that. For I shall deuise a prouision that it shal be had awai & yet neuer caried hense. For euen there as it lyeth loe, digge me a great pit, and cary it neuer ferther, but buery it euen in that. Wher shall I than lay that hepe quoth his neighbour that cometh out of the pitte ? At y l the tother studied a little. But whan he had well bethought hym : Mary (quoth he) euen digge another great pitte vnder y l , and buery me that heape there.”— More’s Works, p. 973 . 424 EXTRACTS FROM Gluttony . “ For sithe the body rebelleth alway against the spirite, what can bee more venomous & mortal to the soul, tha gorbelyed glotony, which so papereth y e body, y 4 the soul ca haue no rule thereof, but carieth it furth like an headstronge hors, til he haue caste his mayster in the mire. And if the corruptible body be (as the wisema saith) burdenous to y e soule : w 4 what a burde chargeth he the soule, y 4 so papereth his pauch, y 4 he is scant able to bere y e burde of his own bely, though it wer take fro y e place, & layd vpon hys back. If the body be to the soule a priso, how strayt a prisd maketh he the body, y 4 stuffeth it so full of rif raf, y 4 the soule ca haue no rome to stirre it self, but as one wer so set had & fote in a strayte stockes, y 4 he can neither stand vp nor lye down, so the soule is so stifled in suche a stuffed body, that it can nothyng wield * it self, in doying of any good spirituali thynge that appertayneth vnto his part, but is as it were enclosed, not in a prison but in a graue, dead in maner all redy, for anye good operacion that thunwieldye body can suffer it to do. And yet is glotony to the soule, not so pernicious and pestilet for the hurt it doth it self, as for the harme and destruccion that is done by such other vyces as comoly coe theron. For no man douteth, but slouth and lechery be the verye doughters of glotony. And than nedes must it be a deadlye enemy to y e soule, y 4 bringeth foorth two such doughters, of which eyther one killeth the soule eternally, I meane not the substaunce of the soule, but the wealth & felicitie of the soule, w 4 out which it wer better neuer to haue bene borne. What good can the great gloton do w 4 his bely standing a strote, like a taber, & his noil toty with drink, but balk vp his brewes in y e middes of his matters, or lye down and slepe like a swine. And who douteth but y e the body dilicately fed, maketh as y e rumour saith an vnchast bed.Now to y e body what sin is so noyous ? what sin so shameful ? Is it not a bestly thing to se a ma y 4 hath reso, so to rule hiselfe that his fete may not beare him ? but whe he commeth out he weneth y 4 the skie wold fall on his hed ? & there royleth & releth till he fal downe y e canel, & there lye down tyll he be take vp and born to bed as a corps wer born in bere ? And in good fayth in my minde much wrong is there done hi y 4 any ma pre- sumeth to take him vp, and that he is not suffred to take his ease all * See p. 248 ante, for Dibdin’s note on “ wield.” The above is a good example of the use of the word, and would be sufficient to settle the meaning of it,—if any reasonable man could ever doubt it. MORE’S WORKS. 425 night at his pleasure in the kynges hye way that is free for euerye man. “ Wonder it is y 4 the worlde is so mad, that we had leuer take sinne with pain, than vertue with pleasure. For as I said in y e beginning and often shal I say, vertue bringeth his plesure, and vice is not w‘out pain. And yet speake I not of the world to come, but of the life pre¬ sent. If vertue wer al painfull, and vice al pleasat, yet sith deth shal shortly finish both y e pain of the tone and the pleasure of the tother, gret madnes wer it, if we would not rather take a short pain for the winning of euerlasting pleasure, tha a short plesure for the winning of euerlastyng pain. But now if it be true as it is indede, that our sin is painful and our vertue pleasant, how much is it tha a more madnes, to take sinnefull paine in thys world, that shal win vs eternal pain in hell, rather than pleasant vertue in this world, that shal win vs eternall plesure in heauen ? If thou wene that I teach thee wrong, when I say that in vertue is plesure and in sin is pain, I might preue it by many plain textes of holy scripture, as by the wordes of the psalmist where he saith, I haue had as gret plesure in y e way of thy testimonies, as in all maner of riches. And Salomon saith of vertue thus : her wayes are al ful of plesure, & her pathes are pesable. And further he saieth. The way of the wicked, is as it were hedged w‘ thornes : but the way of the righteous is without stumbling. And we be weried (shal the wretches s.ay) in the waye of wickednes, we haue walked in hard and cdberous waies : and the wise ma saith, The way of the sinners is set or layd w stones, but in the end is hel darknes and paynes. But to tell vs worldly wretches the wordes of holy wrytte, is but a dul profe. For our bestly taste sauoreth not the swetenes of heauenly thynges. And as for ex¬ perience, we ca none geat of the tone parte, that is to wit the pleasure that is in vertue. The tother parte we cannot perceue for bitter, for the corrupcio of our custome, wherby sowre semeth vs swete. But yet if we woold consider our sinne wel, with the depedants therupo, we shold not faile to perceiue the painful bitternes of our walue swete sin. For no man is so mad y l will recke that thing for pleasant, y* hath with litle plesure much pain. For so might we call a man of Inde white, because of his whit teeth. Now if thou shouldest for a litle ytche, claw thy self sodeinly depe into y e flesh, y u wouldest not cal thy clawing pleasant, though it liked thee a litle in y e beginnig. But so is it, y l for y e litle ytching plesure of sin, we claw our self sodenly to y e hard bones, & win therby not a 426 EXTRACTS FROM litle pain, but an intolerable tormet. Which thyng I might proue beginning at pride in euery kinde of sin, sauing that the degressio would be ouer long. For th abridgynge wherof, let vs consider it but in the selfe same sinne that we haue in hand.” The pleasure that the gloton hathe in his viand, can be no lenger any very plesure, than whyle it is ioyned with hunger, that is to say with payn. For y e very pleasure of eatyng, is but the minishing of his payn in hungryng. Now all that euer is eaten after, in which glotony beginneth, is in effecte paine altogether. And than the head aketh, & the stomake knaweth, and the next meale is eaten w‘out ap¬ petite, with gorge vppon gorge & grif vppon grief, til the gorbely be compelled to cast vp al again, and than falle to a rere supper.” “ If we se me die soe dere yere by famin, we therof make a gret mater, we fall to processio, we pray for piety, and recken the world at an end. But wheras yerely there dyeth in good yeres gret people of glotony, thereof we take none hede at al, but rather impute the blame to the sicknes wherof they dye, than to the glotony wherof the sicknes commeth. And if there be a ma slain of a stroke, there is as reson is muche speache made thereof, the coroner sitteth, the queste is charged, the verdit geue, the felony founden, the doer endited, theproces sued, the felo arrained, & dyeth for the dead. And yet if men wold enserche how many be slain with weape, and how many eate & drink themself to death, there should be foud (as Salomon saith) mo dead of the cup and the kechen, than of the dente of sworde : and thereof is no wordes made at all. Nowe if a manne willyngly kil hymselfe with a knife, the world wondereth therupon, & as wel worthy is, he is endited of his own deth, his goodes forfeted and his corse cast out on a donghyll, hys bodye neuer buried in christen buryall. These glotos daily kil theself their own handes, & no man findeth fault, but carieth his carie corse into y e quere, and w* much solene seruice, burieth y e body boldly at the hie alter, whe thei haue al their life (as thapostle saith) made theyr belly their god, & liked to know none other: abusing not only y e name of chrysten me, preferring their belly ioy before all the ioyes of heauen, but also abusing y e part & office of a natural man and resonable crea¬ ture. For where as nature & reason sheweth vs, y* we shoulde eate but for to liue, these glotons are so glutted in the bestly pleasure of their tast, y‘ they wold not wish to liue & it were not for to eate.”— More’s Works, pp. ioo-i. MORE’S WORKS. 427 The souls in purgatory. “ Whither soeuer he [the Devil] cary vs we cari our pain with vs : & like as the body y* hath an hote feuer as feruetly burneth if he ride an horsebacke, as if he lay lapped in his bedde : so carye we still about no lesse heate with vs, then if we lay bounden here. And yet the dis- pightful sightes that our euill aungels bring vs to beholde abrode, so farre augmenteth our tourment, that we would wish to bee drowned in the darkenes that is here, rather tha see the syghtes that they shewe vs there. For among they conuay vs into our own howses, and there double is our payne with syghte sometyme of the selfe same thynges, whiche whyle we liued, was halfe our heauen to beholde. There shewe they vs oure substance, and our bagges stuffed with golde : whiche when we now see, we set much lesse by them, then would an olde man that fotLd a bagge of chery stones, whiche he layde vppe when he was a chylde. What a sorowe hath it been to some of vs when the deuils hath in despightfall mockage, cast in our teeth our olde loue borne to our money, and then shewed vs our executours as busily ryfling& ran- saking our houses as though they wer men of warre that had taken a towne by force. Howe heauelye hath it thinke you gone vnto our hearte, when our euill aungelles haue grynned and laughed, and shewed vs oure late wyues so sone waxen wanton, and forgeatting vs their olde housbandes that haue loued them so tenderly and left them so riche, sitte and laughe, and make mery, and more to sometime, with their newe woers, whyle our kepers in despyghte kepe vs there in payn to stand still, and loke on. Manye tymes woulde we then speake if we could be suffered, & sore we long to say to her : Ah wife, wyfe, ywysse this was not couenaunt wyfe, when ye wepte and tolde me, that if I left you to liue by, ye woulde neuer wedde agayn. We see there our chyldren too, whome we loued so well, pype, sing, & daunce, & no more thinke on their fathers soules, then on their olde shone, sauing y l sometime cometh out, God haue mercy on al christen soules. But it cummeth out so coldly & with so dull affection, y l it lyeth but in the lippes, & neuer came nere the hert. Yet heare we sometime our wiues pray for vs more warmely. For in chyding with her second husband to spight him withal, god haue merci saith she on my first husbandcs soule, for he was ywisse an honest man farre vnlyke you. And then meruayle we muche when we heare th say so well by vs. For they wer euer wot to tell vs farre otherwise. But when we finde in this wyse our wyues, or chyldren and frendes, so sone and so cleaiely foigeat 428 EXTRACTS FROM vs, & see our executours rap & rend vnto theself, catche euery ma what he can, & holde fast y‘ he catcheth, & care nothing for vs : Lorde god what it greueth vs, that we left so much behind vs, and had not sent hether more of our substance before vs by our own handes. This warning wil we geue you, that ye deceiue not your selfe : we y 1 haue so dyed haue thus foud it, that y e goodes disposed after vs, geat our executoures great thanke, & be toward vswarde accompted afore god much lesse then halfe our owne, nor our thanke nothing lyke to y* it would haue been if we had in our health geue half as much for gods sake with our own hades. Of which we geue you this frendly warn¬ ing, not for y l we wolde discorage you to dispose well your goodes whe ye dye : but for y l we woulde aduise you to dyspose them better while ye Hue. And among all your almes, suwhat remember vs : Oure wyues there remember here your husbandes. Oure children there remember here your parentes. Our paretes there remeber here your children. Our husbandes there remeber here your wiues. Ah swete husbandes whyle we liued there in y* wretched world with you : while ye werglad to please vs, ye bestowed much vpon vs and putte your self to great cost and did vs gret harme therwith, w‘ gay gownes & gay kyrtles & much waste in apparell, ringes & owches, w l partlets & pastes garnished with pearle, with whiche proude pyking vp : both ye toke hurt & we to, many moe wayes then one though we told you not so tha. But ij thinges wer ther speciali, of which your selfe felt than the tone, and we feele now the tother. For ye hadde vs the hygher hearted, and the more stubburne to you : and god had vs in lesse fauour, and that alacke we fele. For nowe that gay geare burneth vpon oure backes, and those proude pearled pastes hag hote about our chekes, those partlets and those owches hang heauye about our neckes & cleaue fast fyre hote, that woe be we there & wishe that while we liued, ye neuer had folowed our fantasies, nor neuer had so cockered vs, nor made vs so wanton, nor hadde geuen vs other owches than ynions or great gar- like headdes, nor other pearles for oure partlettes and oure pastes, then fayre oriente peason. But now for asmuch as that is passed, and can not bee called agayn : we beseche you sith ye gaue them vs, let vs haue them still, let them hurte none other woman but helpe to doe vs good : sel the for our sakes to set in saints copes, & send the money hether by masse pennies, & by poore men y f may pray for our soules. Oure fathers also, whiche while we liued fostred vs vp so tenderly & could not haue endured to see vs suffer payn: now open your heartes & fatherly affectio, & help vs at the least wise with a pore mans almes. MORE'S WORKS. 429 Ye woulde not when we wer with you haue letted to lay out much money for a gret mariage, which if ye meynt for our sakes, & not for your own worldly worship, geue vs now soe part therof & relieue vs here with much lesse coste then one maryage, and more pleasure then fyftene, though euery one wer a prince or a pryncesse of a realme. Fynally, all our other frendes, and euery good christe man & woman ope your heartes and haue some pittie vppon vs. If ye belieue not y* we nede your helpe, alas the lacke of fayth. If ye belieue our nede & care not for vs, alas y e lack of pittie. For whoso pittieth not vs, who can he pittie ? If ye pittie the poore, there is none so poore as we, y l haue not a bratte to put on our backes. If ye pittie y e blind there is none so blinde as we, which are here in the darke, sauing for sightes vnplea- saunt and lothsome til some difort come. If ye pittie y e lame, ther is none so lame as we, that neither can creepe one fote out of the fyre, nor haue one hand at libertie to defende our face fro y e flame. Finally if ye pittie anye man in payne, neuer knew ye payn coparable to ours : whose fyre as farre passeth in heate, all the fyres that euer burned vpon earth, as the hottest of al those passeth a feyned fyre paynted on a walle. If euer ye laye sicke and thought the nyghte long, and longed sore for daye while euery howre semed longer than fyue : bethynke you than what a long night we selye soules endure, that lye slepelesse, restlesse, burning and broyling in the darke fyre one long night of many dayes, of many wekes, and some of manye yeres together. You waiter peradueture & tolter in sicknes fro side to side, and find little rest in anye parte of the bedde : we lye bounden to the brondes, and can not lyfte vppe oure headdes. You haue youre physicions with you, that sometyme cure and heale you : no physick wil help our pain, nor no playster coole our heate. Youre kepers dooe you great ease, and put you in good cumfort : our kepers are such as God kepe you from, cruell darnned spirites, odious, enuious, and hateful, despiteous ene¬ mies, and despitefull tormetours, and theyr cumpanye more horrible and grieuous to vs, then is the payn it selfe, and the intollerable toui- mente that they dooe vs, wherewith from top to toe, they cease not continuallye to teare vs. But nowe if our other enemies, these here- tikes almoste as cruell as they, procuryng to theyr power that we shoulde be long lefte in the deuilles handes, will as theyr vsage is, to rayle in stede of reasoning, make a game and a ieste now of oure hea- uye payne, and peraduenture laughe at our lamentacion, because we speake of oure headdes, our handes, our feete, and suche oure other grose bodilye members, as lye buryed in our graues, and of 0111 gar- 430 EXTRACTS FROM mentes that we did weare, whiche come not hether with vs : We be- seche you for our deare ladies loue to lette theyr folye goe by, and to consider in your owne wisedome, that it were impossible to make anye mortali manne liuinge perceyue what maner payne, and in what maner, wyse we bodilesse soules doe suffer and sustayne. . . . And there¬ fore as we say, passing ouer suche iesting and rayling of those vn- charitable heretikes mortali enemies vnto vs, & to themself both ; con¬ sider you our paynes, & pittie the in youre heartes, and helpe vs with youre prayers, pilgrimages, and other almesdedes : & of all thinge in speciali procure vs the suffrages and blessed oblacion of the holy masse, wherof no man liuing so well can tell the fruite, as we that here feele it. The cumfort that we haue here, except our continual! hope in our lorde god, cometh at seasons fro our Lady, w‘ such glorious saintes, as either our self with our own deuocion while we liued or ye w* yours for vs since our decease & departig haue made intercessors for vs.”— More’s Works, pp. 337-8. Sickness. Haue ye not ere this in a sore sicknes felt it very grieuous to haue folk babble to you, and namely suche thynges as ye shold make aunswere to, whan it was a pain to speake ? Thinke ye not now that it wilbe a gentle pleasure, whan we lye dying, al our body in pain, al our mind in trouble, our soul in sorow, our hearte al in drede, while our life walketh awai ward, while our death draweth toward, while y e deuil is busy about vs, while we lack stomak strength to beare any one of so manifold heynous troubles, wil it not be as I was about to say, a pleasant thing, to see before thine eyen, & heare at thine eare, a rable of fleshly frendes, or rather of flesh flies, skippyng about thy bed & thy sicke body, like rauens aboute thy corps now almost, carreyn, cryinge to thee on euery side, what shall I haue what shall I haue ? Than shal come thy children & crye for theyr partes. Than shal come thy swete wife, & where in thyne heale happelye shee spake thee not one swete worde in sixe wekes, now shal shee call thee swete hus¬ band & wepe w* much woorke (and ask the what shal she haue. Than shall thyne executours aske for the kayes, and aske what money is owyng thee, aske what substance thou hast and aske where thy money lyeth. And whyle thou lyest in the case, their wordes shal be so tedious, that thou wilt wyshe all that they aske for, vpon a red fyre, so thou mightest lye one halfe howre in rest.”— More’s Works, p. 78. MORE’S WORKS. 431 Saints and Pilgrimages . “ What say we then quoth he of the harme that goeth by goinge of pylgrimages, royling aboute in ydlenes, with the riot, reueling, and rybawdry, glotony, wantonnes, wast and lecheri ? Trowe ye that god and his holy saltes had not leuer thei syt styl at home, then thus to come seke them, with such worshipfull seruice ? Yes surely quod I. What say we then quod he to y‘ I spake not of yet, in which we doo theim littell worship while we set euery saint to hys office and assigne him a craft suche as pleaseth vs ? Saint Loy we make an horseleche, & must let our horse rather renne vnshod & marre his hoofe, tha to shooe him on his daye, which we must for y* point more religiously kepe hygh & holy then Ester day. And because one smith is to fewe at a forge, we set saynt Ipolitus to helpe hym. And on saint Stephes day we must let al our horses bloud with a knife, because saynt Ste¬ phen was killed with stones. Sainct Apoline we make a toth drawer, & may speke to her of nothing but of sore teth. Saint Sythe women set to seke theyr keyes. Saint Roke we sette to se to the great syke- nes, bycause he had a sore. And with hym they ioine saint Sebastian, bycause he was martired w l arowes. Some serue for the eye onely. And some for a sore brest. Saint Germayne onely for chyldren. And yet wyll he not ones loke at the, but if the mother bring with the a white lofe and a pot of good ale. And yet is he wiser then sainct wil- gefort, for she good soule is as thei saye serued and content with otes. Wherof I ca not perceiue the reason, but if it be bicause she should prouide an horse for an euyl housbonde to ryde to the deuyll vpon, for that is the thynge that she is so sought for as they saie. In so much that women hathe therefore chaunged her name, and in stede of saint Wilgeforte call her saynt Uncumber, bicause they reken that for a pecke of Otes she wil not faile to vncomber them of their housbondes. Longe worke were it to reherse you the diuers maner of manye prety pylgrimages, but one or two wil I tell you. The one Pontanus spekyth of in his dialoges, how saint Martin is worshipped. I haue forgot the towne, but the maner I can not forget it is so straunge. Hys image is on hys daye borne in processio about al y e stretes. And if it be a fayre day the vse they as he cometh by, to cast rose water & al thinges of pleasant sauour vpo his ymage. But and it happen to raine, out poure they pispottes vpon his hed, at euery dore & euery window. Is not this a swete seruice & a worshipfull worship.”— More’s Works , pp. 194-5. : 432 EXTRACTS FROM Irreverent behaviour at Prayer. “ Out of al most true is y e old said saw, y 4 the outward behauior & cotinaunce is a plain expresse mirror or ymage of y e minde, in asmuche as by y e eyes, by y e chekes, by y e eye liddes, by y e browes, by y e handes, by y e fete, & finally by y e gesture of y e whole body, right well appereth, how madly & fodly y e minde is set & disposed. For as we litle passe how smal deuocio of hart we come to pray w 4 al, so dooe we litle passe also howe vndeuoutli we go forward therin. And albeit we wold haue it seme, y 4 on y e holye daies we go more gorgeously ap¬ parelled then at other times onely for y e honor of god, yet y e negliget fashion y 4 we vse a greate mainy of vs in y e time of our praier, doth sufficiently declare, (be we neuer so lothe to haue it so knowe & appa- raunte to the world) y 4 we do it altogether of a peuysh worldly pride. So carelessly do we euen in y e church somewhiles solenely iet to & fro, & other whiles faire & softly sette vs down again. And if it hap vs to kneele, the either do we knele vpo y e tone knee, & lene vpo y e tother, or els will wee haue a cushion layd vnder the both, yea & sometime, namely if we be any thyng nyce & fine) we cal for a cushio to beare vp our elbowes to, & so like an olde rotten ruynouse house, be we fain therwith to bee staide & vnderpropped. And the further do we euery way discouer, how far wide our mind is wadrig fro god. We clawe our head, we pare oure nailes, we picke our nose, & say therwhiles one thing for an other, sith what is said or what is vnsaid both hauing cleane forgotte, we be fain at al aduentures to ayme what we haue more to say. Bee we not ashamed thus madly demeaning our selfes both secretly in our hert, & also in our doings opely in such wise to sew for soucor vnto god, being in so gret danger as we be & in such wise to pray for pardo of so many horrible offences, & ouery 4 in suche wise to desire him to preserue vs fro parpetuall danacio ? so y‘ this one of¬ fence so vnreuerently to approch to y e high maiesty of God, al had we neuer offeded him before, wer yet alone wel worthy to bee punished w 4 a thousand endles deathes. Wel now suppose y 4 thou hadst committed treaso against soe mighty worldly prince, which wer at his libertye eyther to kil the or saue the, & this notw 4 stadyng y 4 he wold be so merciful vnto the, as vpo thy repetance & huble sute for his gracious fauor agayn, be contet fauorably to chauge y e punishment of death into some fine & paymet of money, or further vpo y e effectual profe & declaracion of thine harty & exceding shame & sorow for thy fault, clearely release the of alto¬ gether. Now whe y u comest in presece of this prince, suppose y u woldest MORE’S WORKS. 433 vnreueretly, as one y 4 carelessly passed not what he did, tel thy tale vnto him, & while he sate stil & gaue good eare vnto the, in y e vttering of thy sute al y e while iet vp & down before him, & when y u hadest ietted thy fil squat the down fair & wel in a chaire, or if for good man- ers sake y u thoughtest yt most semely for the to knele on thi knees yet the that y u woldest cal som body first, too fetch the a cushin to laye vn- derneath the, yea & besides y 4 to bring the a stoole & an other cushio therw‘al to leane thyne elbowes on, & after al this gape, stretch, snese, spit, y 11 caredst not how, & balk out y e stinking sauor of thy rauenous surfeting, & fynally so behaue thy selfe in thy coutenance, spech, ges¬ ture, & thy hole body beside, y 4 he might plainly parceue, y 4 while y u spakest vnto him, thy mind wer otherwise occupied : tell me nowe I besech the, what good trowest y u sholdest y u get at his hand by this tale thus tolde afore him ? If we shold thus handle a case of life & deth, in the presence but of some worldly prince we wold I am sure recken our selfes eue quite out of our wits.”— More’s Works , pp. 1359-60. The man who wished to be crucified like Christ. “The common tale goeth, that a earner’s wife in such a frantike fan- tasie holpe her housbande. To whome, when he woulde vppon a good frydaye, nedes haue killed himself for Christ as Christ did for hym, it wer then conuenient for him to dye euen after thesame fashion, and that mighte not be by his own handes, but the hand of some other. For Christ (pardie) killed not him self. And because her husband shold nede to make no mo of counsayl (for that wold he not in no wise) she offred him that for Goddes sake she would secretly crucify him her self, vpon a great crosse that he had made to nayle a newe carued crucifixe vppon. Wherof when he was verye glad, yet she bethought her that Chryst was bounden to a piller, beaten firste, and after crouned with thorne. Where vpopn when she had by his owne assent bound him fast to a post, she left not beating with holy exhortacion to suffer, so much & so long, y 4 ere euer she left woorke & vnbounde him, pray¬ ing neuerthelesse that she might put on his head and driue it well downe, a crowne of thorne y 4 she had wrethen for him, and brought him, he sayd he thought this was ynough for that yere. He would pray God forbeare him of the remenaunt, till good frydaye come agayne. But when it came agayn the nexte yere, then was his lust past, he longed to folow Christ no ferther.— More’s Works, pp. 1193-4. 434 EXTRACTS FROM The Woman who got her head chopped off ,* Anthony. Ther was here in Buda in king Ladislaus daies, a good poore honest mans wife. This woman was so fendish, that the diuell perceiuing her nature : put her in the minde, that she shoulde anger her husband so sore, that she might giue him occasion to kil her, and then should he be hanged for her. Vincent. Thys was a straunge temptacion in dede. What the diuel should she be the better then ? Anthony. Nothig, but that it eased her shreud stomake before, to thyncke that her husband should be hanged after. And peraduenture if you looke about the world and consider it wel, you shal finde mo suche stomakes then a fewe. Haue you neuer heard no furious body plainly say, that to see some such man haue a mischief, he wold with good wil be content to lye as longe in hell, as God lyueth in heauen ? Vincent. Forsoth and some such haue I heard of. Anthony. This mynde of hys was not muche lesse mad then hers, but rather haply the more mad of y e twayne. For the woman perad¬ uenture dyd not cast so farre peril therin. But to tell you now to what good passe her charytable purpose came. As her husband (the man was a carpenter) stoode hewing with his chyppe axe vpon a pece of timber, she begane after her old gyse so to reuyle him, that the man waxed wroth at last, & bode her get her in, or he would lay the helme of his axe about her backe, and said also that it were lytle synne, euen with y l axe head to choppe of that vnhappye head of hers, that caryed suche an vngracious tong therin. At that word the diuel toke his time, and whetted her tong agaynst her teeth. And when it was wel sharped she sware to hym in verye fierce anger, by the masse horso husband I wold thou wouldest : here lyeth mine head lo (& ther with downe she laied her head vpon the same timber logge) yf thou smyte it not of, I beshrew thine horesons hart. With that lyke wise as the diuell stoode at her elbow, so stoode (as I heard say) his good angel at his, & gaue him gostlye corage, and bode him be bolde & do it. And so the good man vp wyth hys chyppe axe, and at a choppe chopped of her head in dede. Ther were stading other folk by, which had a good sporte to heare her chide, but lytle they looked for this chaunce, tyll it was done ere they could let it. Thei said they heard her tongei bable in her head, and cal horeson horeson, twise after that the head was fro the bodye. At the leaste wise afterward vnto the king thus they reported.— More’s Works, p. 1187. MORE’S WORKS. 435 Goodwin Sands and Tenter den Steeple . “ An olde sage father foie in Rente at suche tyme as diuers men of worshippe assembled olde folke of the countrey to commune and de- uyse aboute the amendemente of Sandewyche hauen. At whiche tyme as they beganne fyrste to ensearche by reason and by the reporte of olde menne there about, what thing had bene the occasion that so good an hauen was in so fewe yeares so sore decayed, and suche sandes rysen, and suche shalowe flattes made therwith, that right small vessels had now muche worke to come in at dyuers tydes, where great shippes wer wfin fewe yeres passed accustomed to ryde without difficultie and some laying the fault to Goodwyn sandes, some to the landes Inned by dyuers owners in the Isle of tenate out of y e chane , in which the sea was wont to copasse the Isle and bryng the vesse s rounde about it, whose course at the ebbe was wont to scoure y e hauen, whiche nowe the Sea excluded thence, for lack of such course and scouryng is choked vp with sande, as they thus alledged, diuers me, diuers causes. There starte vp one good old father and said, ye masters say euery man what he wil, cha marked this matter wel as som other. And by god I wote how it waxed nought well ynough. For I knewe it good, and haue marked so chaue, whan it began to waxe worse. And what hath hurt it good father, quod the gentleme ? By my fayth maisters quod he, yonder same tenterden steple and nothyng els, that by y e masse cholde twere a faire fish pole. Why hath the steple huit the haue good father quod they ? Nay byr Ladye maisters quod he, yche cannot tell you well why, but chote well it hath. For by God I knew it a good hauen til that steple was bylded. And by the mary masse, cha marked it well, it neuer throue sice.” *-More’s Works ,, pp. 277-78. * Tyndall remarks on this “ Neyther though twise ij. Cranes make not iiij. wilde Gees, woulde I therefore that he shoulde beleue that twise two made not foure. Neither entend I to proue vnto you that Paules steple is the cause why Temraes is broke in about Erith, or y l Teinterden steple is the cause of t e decay of Sandwich hauen as M. More iesteth. Neuerthelesse, this I woulde were perswaded vnto you (as it is true) that the building of the and such like, thorow r false fayth that we haue in them, is the decay of all the hauens in England. & of al the cities, townes, hye wayes, and shortly of the whole common wea t , For since these false monsters crope vp into our consciences, and robbed vs ot the knowledge of our sauiour Christ, makying vs beleue in such popeholy wor es, and to thinke that there was none other way vnto heauen, we haue not ceassed to build the abbeyes, cloysters, coledges, Chauntries, and cathedrall churches with hye steples, striuing and enuying one an other, who shou ( e o mos . E E 436 EXTRACTS FROM L ove of this L ife. “ Some are there I saye also, that are loth to die for lacke of witte, which albeit that they belieue the worlde that is to come, and hope also to come thither, yet they loue so muche the wealthe of thys world, and such thynges as delyte them therein, that they would fayne kepe the as long as euer they mighte, euen wyth tooth and nayle. And when they maye be suffered in no wyse to kepe it no lenger, but that death taketh them therfro : then if it mayQ bee no better, they will agree to be (as soone as they be hence) haunsed vppe in heauen, and be with god by and by. These folke are as verye nydeote fooles, as he that had kept fro his chyldhodde a bagge full of chery stones, and cast such a fantasy therto, that he wolde not go from it for a bygger bagge filled full of golde. These folke fare cosin, as Esope telleth in a fable that the snayle didde. For when Iupiter (whom the Poetes feyne for the great God) inuyted all the poore woormes of the earthe vnto a greate solemne feaste, that it pleased hym (I haue forgotte vppon what occasion) vp- pon a tyme to prepare for them : the snayle kept her at home, and woulde not come thereat. And when Iupiter asked her after, where¬ fore she came not at hys feast, where he sayde she shoulde haue beene welcome and haue faren wel, and shold haue seen a goodlye palice, and been delighted with manye goodlye pleasures : she aunswered hym, that she loued no place so well as her owne house. With whiche aunswere, Iupiter waxed so angry, that he said, sith she loued her house so well, she should neuer after goe from home, but should alway after beare her house vppon her backe wheresoeuer she went. And so hath she doone euer synce as they say, and at the least wise I wot well she dooeth so nowe, and hath doone as long tyme as I can remember .” — More’s Works, p. 1250. And as for the deedes that pertayne vnto our neighbours, and vnto the common wealth, we haue not regarded at all, as thynges which seemed no holy workes, or such as God woulde not once looke vppon. And therfore we left them vn- sene to, vntill they were past remedy, or past our power to remedy the, in as much as our slowbellies with their false blessinges had iugled away from vr> that wherwith they might haue bene holpen in due season. So that y l silly poore man though he had haply no wisdome to expresse hys mynde, or y l he durst not, or y l M. More fashioneth his tale as he doth other mens to iest out the truth, sawe that neither Goodwinsandes nor any other cause alleaged was the decay of Sandwich hauen, so much as that the people had no lust to main- teyne the common wealth, for blynde deuotion which they haue to popeholy workes .”—Works of Tyndall, Frith and Barnes, 1573, p. 279. MORE’S WORKS. 437 Account of Richard Hunne, who was found hanging in prison; and strongly suspected to have been murdered by the Roman Catholics, who convicted him of heresy, after death, and burnt his body .* “ Fyrst ye must vnderstande, that because the cumming together of the Lordes fro Grenewiche to Baynardes castell for the trying out of the matter shoulde not bee frustrate, there was suche diligence done before, that euery manne that aught had sayde therein, was ready there agaynst theyr cummyng. Where they beganne with the fyrste poynte that ye spake of, as the speciali mocion whereupon the kynges highnes hadde sent them thither. Wherfore after the rehearsall made * The reading of this account, and the one which follows it, leaves an un¬ comfortable impression; they fully justify the remarks of Warner in the Note on p. 346 ante. There is an ill-timed levity and want of proper feeling about them which cannot possibly be excused, even by the warmest friends of More. The circumstances of Hunne’s death were most suspicious, and Tyndall very properly objected to this ill-timed railery : “ He iesteth out Hunnes death with his Poetrie were with he built Utopia. Many great Lordes came to Baynardes Castell (but all namelesse) to examine the cause (as y e credible Prelates so well learned, so holy and so indifferent whiche examined Bilney and Arture, be also all namelesse.) More. Horsey tooke his pardon, because it is not good, to refuse Gods pardon and the kynges. Tyndall. Gods pardon can no man haue except he knowledge himselfe a sinner. And euen so he y* receaueth the kynges yeldeth him selfe giltie. And moreouer it is not possible y l he which putteth his trust in God, should for feare of the xij. men or of his iudges, receaue pardon for that hee neuer was faultie vnto the dishonoring of our sauiour Iesus, but would haue denyed it rather vnto the death. And therto, if the matter were so cleare as ye iest it out, then I am sure the kynges graces both curtesie and wisedome, wold haue charged the iudges to haue examined the euidence layd agaynst him diligently & so to haue quit hym with more honesty then to geue him pardon of that he neuer trespassed in, and to haue rid the spiritualitie out of hate and all suspition. Then sayth he Hunne was sore suspect of heresie and conuict. And after he sayth Hunne was an hereticke in deede and in perill so to be proued. And then how was he conuict ? I heard say, that he was first conuict, when he was dead and then they did wrong to burne him, till they had spoken with him, to wete whether he would abiure or no. More. The Byshop of London, was wise, vertuous aud cunnyng. Tyndall. For all those three yet he would haue made the old Deane Colet of Paules an hereticke, for translatyng the Pater noster in English, had not the Byshop of Canterbury holpe the Deane.”— Works of Tyndall, Frith and Barnes, ' 573 . P- 3 l8 - 438 EXTRACTS FROM of y e cause of theyr cummyng : the greatest temporali Lorde there presente, sayde vnto a certayne seruaunte of hys owne standynge there beside. Syr ye tolde me that one shewed you that he coulde goe take hym by the sleeue that kylled Hunne. Haueye broughte hym hether ? Syr quod he, if it lyke your Lordeshyp thys manne it was that told me so : poynting to one y* he had caused to come thether. Than my Lorde asked that man, howe saye ye syr, can ye dooe as ye sayde ye coulde ? Forsoothe my Lorde quod he, and it lyke youre Lordeshyppe I sayde not so muche, thys gentleman did sum what myssetake me. But in dede I told hym that I hadde a neighbour that told me that he coulde doe it. Where is that neighbour quod my Lorde ? Thys man syr quod he bryngeth furth one whiche had also been warned to be there. Than was he asked whether he had sayde that he coulde doe it. Naye forsoothe quod he my Lorde, I sayde not that I could doe it my selfe : but I sayde that one told me that he could doe it. Well quod my lord who tolde you so ? Forsoth my lord quod he my neygh- bour here. Than was that man asked. Sir know you one that can tell who kylled Richarde Hunne? Forsoothe quod he and it lyke your Lordeshippe, I sayd not that I knew one surely that could tell who hadde killed hym : but I sayde in dede that I knowe one which I thought verelye could tell who kylled him. Wei quod the Lordes at the last, yet with muche worke we come to somwhat. But wherby thinke you that he can tell ? Nay forsothe my Lord quod he it is a womanne, I woulde she were here with youre Lordeshyppes nowe. Well quod my Lorde, woman or man all is one, she shalbe hadde where- soeuer she be. By my fayth my Lordes quod he and she were with you, she woulde tell you wonders. For by God I haue wyst her to tell manye meruaylous thynges ere nowe. Why quod the Lordes, what haue you hearde her tolde ? Forsothe my Lordes quod he, if a thynge hadde been stolen, she would have tolde who hadde it. And therefore I thynke she could as wel tel who killed Hunne, as who stale an horse. Surelye sayde the Lordes so thynke all we too I trowe. But howe coulde she tell it, by the deuill ? Naye by my trouth I trowe quod he, for I could neuer see her vse anye worse waye than lookinge in ones hande. Therewith the Lordes laughed and asked, what is she ? For¬ soothe my Lordes quod he, an Egipcian, and she was lodged here at Lambeth, but she is gone ouer sea now. Howbeit I trowe she be not in her own countrey yet: for they saye it is a great way hence, and she went ouer litle more than a moneth agoe. Now forsoth quod your frend, thys processe came to a wise purpose, MORE’S WORKS. 439 here was a gret post wel thwyted to a pudding pricke. But I pray you to what poynte came the seconde matter of hym that hadde been in office vnder so manye of the kinges almoygners that he knewe by his owne experience, and proued that Richard Hunne hadde not hanged hymselfe. Forsothe quod I, he was called in next. And than was he asked whereby he knewe it. But would God ye had sene his counte¬ nance. The man had of likelyhod said somewhat to farre, and was much amased, and loked as though hys eyen woulde haue fallen out of hys head into the Lordes lappes. But to the question he aunswered and sayde, that he sawe that very wel, for he sawe hym bothe ere he was taken down and after. What than quod the lordes, so didde there many moe, whiche yet vpon the sight could not tell that. No my lordes quod he, but I haue another insyghte in suche thinges than other men haue. What insighte quod they ? Forsoothe quod he it is not vnknowen that I haue occupyed a greate whyle vnder diuers of the kinges almoygners, and haue seene and considered manye that haue hanged themselfe, and therby if I see one hange, I can tell anone whether he hanged himself or not. By what token can you tell quod the Lordes ? Forsoothe quod he I can not tell the tokens but I perceiue it well ynough by mine owne sighte. Butwhan they heard him speke of his own sight, & therwith sawe what sight he had, loking as though his eyen would haue fallen in their lappes, there coulde fewe forbeare laughing, & sayde : we see well surely that ye haue a sight by your selfe. And than sayd one Lord merily, peraduenture as some ma is so cunning by experience of iewelles that he canne perceyue by hys owne eye whether a stone bee righte or counterfet though he canne not wel make another man to perceue the tokens : so this good felowe, though he can not tell vs y e markes, yet he hathe suche an experience in hanging, that himselfe perceiueth vpon the syghte, whether the manne hanged hymselfe or no. Yea forsooth my Lord quod he eue as your lordship sayth. For I knowe it well ynough my self, I haue seene so many by reason of mine office. Why quod another Lorde merily, your office hathe no more experi¬ ence in hanging, than hath an hangman : And yet he canot tell. Nay syr quoth he, & it like your lordship, he medleth not w‘ them y l hang theself as I doe. Well quoth one of y e lordes, howe manye of them haue ye medled w* in your daies ? With many my lord quoth he. For 1 haue been officer vnder .ii. almoyners, &therfore I haue seen manye. How many quoth one of y e lordes ? I can not tell quoth he, howe 440 EXTRACTS FROM manye : but I wot wel I haue sene many. Haue ye sene quoth one, an hudred ? Nay quoth he not an hudred. Haue ye seen fowre score & ten ? therat a litle he studied as oone standynge in a doubte, and that were loth to lye, and at last he sayde : that he thoughte nay, not fullye fowre score and tenne. Then was he asked whether he hath seene twentie. And thereto withoute anye sticking, he aunswered, naye not twentie. Thereat the Lordes laughed well, to see that he was so sure that he hadde not seene twentie, and was in doute whether he hadde seene fowre-score and ten. Than was he asked whether he hadde seene fyftene. And therto he sayde shortly nay. And in like¬ wise of tenne. At the last they came to fyue, and fro fyue to fowre. And there he beganne to study agayn. Than came they to three, and than for shame he was fayn to say that he hadde seene so manie and moe too. But whan he was asked, whan, whom, and in what place, necessitie draue hym at last vnto the trouthe, wherby it appeared that he neuer hadde seene but one in all hys lyfe. And that was an yrish felow called croke shake, whome he hadde seene hangynge in an olde barne. And whan all hys cunning was come to thys, he was bidde walke lyke himselfe. And one sayde vnto hym that because he was not yet cunninge ynoughe in the craft of hanging: it was pittie that he hadde no more experience thereof by one moe. Forsoothe quod your frende, this was a madde felowe. Came the thyrd tale to as wise a poynt ? Ye shall heare quod I. The temporali manne that hadde reported it vpon the mouthe of the spirituali manne, was a good woorshipfull manne, and for hys trouthe and woorshippe was in greate credite. And surely the spiritual manne was a manne of worship also, and well knowen bothe for cunning and vertuous. And therefore the Lordes muche meruayled, knowing the both for suche as they were, that they shoulde bee like to fynde eyther the one or the other, eyther make an vntrue reporte, or vntruely denye the trouth. And fyrst the temporali manne before the Lordes in the hearing of the spirituali persone standinge by, sayde. My Lordes all, as helpe me God and halidome maister doctour here sayd vnto me hys own mouth, that if Hunne had not sued the premunyre, he shoulde neuer haue been accused of heresye. Howe say you maister doctour quod the Lordes, was that true, or elles why sayde you so ? Surely my lordes quod he, I sayd not all thing so, but marye thys I sayde in dede, that if Hunne had not been accused of heresie, he wold neuer haue sued the premunyre. Loe my Lordes quod the other, I am gladde ye fynde me a true manne. Will ye commaunde me any more seruice ? Naye MORE’S WORKS. 441 by my trouth quod one of the lordes, not in this matter by my will, ye may goe wha ye wil. For I haue espyed good ma, for y e wordes be al one it maketh no mater to you which way they stand : but al is one to you a horse mill & a mill horse, drinke ere ye goe, & goe ere ye drinke. Naye my lordes quoth he, I wil not drinke God yelde you. And ther- with he made curtesie and went his way, leauing some of y e lordes laughing to see y e good playn old honest man, how that as contrary as their two tales wer : yet whan he heard them both agayn, he mar¬ ked no differece betwene the, but toke them both for one, because the wordes were one. By my trouth quoth your frend, these thre thinges came merely to passe, & I woulde not for a good thing but I had herd the. For here may a man see, y 4 misse vnderstading maketh misse reporting. And a tale y* fleeth thorowe manye mouthes, catcheth manye newe fethers : which, whan they be pulled away agayn, leaue him as pilled as a coote, & sometyme as bare as a byrdes arse. But I think verely for al this, ther was gret euidence geue against y e chau- celer, for he was at legth indited of Hunes death, & was a giet while in preson, & in coclusion, neuer durst abide y e tryal of xii. men for hys acquitayle : but was fain by frendship to geat a pardon. But I beseche you for my mindes sake, shew me what thought your selfe therein. Of trouth quoth I there wer diuers suspicious thinges laid against him, & al those well and substancially aunswered again for him. Howebeit, vpon y e telling of a tale oftentime happeth, that wha all is herd that can be said therin; yet shall the hearers some thinke one waye and some another. And therefore though I can not thinke but that the Iewery which were right honest men, founde the verdict as themselfe thought in their owne conscience to be trouth : yet in mine own mind for ought that euer I herd thereof in my life, as help me god I could neuer think it. If he had not been gyltie quod youre fred, he would neuer haue sued his pardon. Yes quod I, right wise men haue I heard saye ere this, that they will neuer refuse neither gods pardo nor y e kinges. It wer no wisdom in a matter of many suspicious tales, be they neuer so false, to stand on xii. mennes mouthes where one may find a surer way. But I think verely, y 4 if he had been gyltie, he should neuer haue goten his pardon.”— More’s Works, pp. 236-8. “Thomas Phylyppes, of Loudon, lethev seller, prisoner in the towreP “ But thys as I sayd, ye may good readers see, that as Frith taketh mine aunswer fro me, whiche hymselfe and euery man elles knoweth 442 EXTRACTS FROM well for myne, and imputeth it to the byshoppe of Winchester : it were not muche vnlikelye, that he woulde when he had heard of a thing that I had sayde, and when hymself had made it woorse, then chaunge it fro me and impute it vnto maister chaunceller of London. Whiche if he dooe, he dooth it not alone. For this poynt played also Thomas Phylyppes of London lether seller now prisoner in the towre. Whome when I was chaunceller, vpon certain thynges that I found out by him, by the examinacion of diuers heretikes whom I had spoken with, vpon the occasion of the heretikes forboden bokes, I sent for. And when I had spoken with him, and onestly intreated him one day or twayn in mine house, and laboured about hys amendment in as hearty louing maner as I coulde : when I perceiued finallye the persone ^such, that I coulde fynde no trouthe, neyther in hys woorde, nor hys othe, and sawe the likelihod that he was in the setting furth of such heresies closelye, a man mete and likely to dooe many folke much harme : I by indenture deliuered hym to his ordinary. And yet for because I perceiued in him a great vain glorious lyking of him¬ self, and a great spyce of the same spiryte of pryde that I perceued before in Richard Hunne whe I talked with him, and feared that if he wer in the bishoppes prieson, his gostly enemy the deuill might make him there destroy himselfe, and then myght such a newe businesse aryse agaynste maister chaunceller that now is, as at that time arose vpon the chauceler that was then, which thing I feared in Thomas Phylippes somewhat also the more, because a cosin of hys, a barber in Pater noster rowe called Holye Iohn, after that he was suspected of heresye and spoken too therof, fearyng the shame of the worlde, drowned hymselfe in a well : I for these causes aduised and by my menes holpe, that Thomas Phylippes (which al be it that he sayd that the cleargie loued him not, semed not yet very loth to goe to the bishoppes prieson) was receiued priesoner into the towre of London. And yet after that he complayned therupon, not agaynst me but agaynst the ordinarye. Whereupon the kinges highnesse com- maunded certayn of the greatest lordes of hys counsayle, to know how the matter stoode : whiche knowen & reported to y e kiges grace his higghens as a most vertous catholik price gaue vnto Thomas Philippes such aunswer, as if he hadde been either halfe so good as I woulde he wer, or halfe so wyse as hymself weneth he wer, he woulde furthwith haue folowed, and not stand still in his obstinacy so log, as he hath now put himself therby in another dieper perill.”-— More’s Works, pp. 905-6. MORE’S WORKS. 443 How a man quells a troubled conscience. “ Manye menne are there with whom god is not cotet, which abuse this gret high goodnes of his, whom neither faire treating nor harde handlyng can cause to remeber theyr maker, but in wealth they bee wanton and forgeate God, and folowe their lust: and whan God with tribulacion draweth them towarde hym, than waxe they woode and drawe backe al y* euer they maye, and rather runne and seke helpe at any other hand than to go fette it at his. Some for comfort seke to the fleshe, some to the worlde, and some to the deuill himselfe. Some man that in worldly prosperitie is very dull, and hath depe stepped into^many a sore sin, whiche synnes whe he did them, he cou- ted for part of his pleasure : god willing of his goodnesse to call the ma to grace : casteth a remorse into his mynd among after .his first slepe, and maketh hym lie a lytle whyle and bethynke hym. Than begynneth he to remember his life, and from that he falleth to thynke vpon hys death, and howe he muste leaue al thys worldly wealth within a whyle behind here in this worlde, and walke hence alone, he wotteth not whyther, nor howe soone he shall take his iourney thither, nor can tell what coumpanye he shall mete there. And than begynneth he to thynke that it were good to make sure & to be mery, so that he be wyse therwith, lest there happe to be such black bugges in dede as folke call deuilles, whose tormentes he was wonte to take for Poetes tales. Those thoughtes if thei synke depe, are a sore tribulacion. And surely yf he take holde of the grace that God therin offereth hym, his tribulacion is wholesome, and shall bee ful comfortable to remember, that God by thys trybulacion calleth hym and biddeth hym come home out of the countrey of synne that he was bred and broughte vp so log in, and come into the lande of beheste y‘ floweth mylk and honey. And then if he folowe this calling (as manye one full well doeth) ioyfull shall his sorowe bee, and glad shall he be to chaunge his life, leaue his wanton lustes, & do penaunce for hys sinnes, bestowyng his time vpo better busines. But some men nowe whan this callyng of god causeth them to be sadde, they be lothe to leaue theyr synneful lustes that hange in their hertes, and specially if they haue any suchekynd of liuingas thei must nedes leaue of or fall deper in synne : or yf they haue done so many gret wronges y l thei haue many medes to make, that must (if they folowe god) minish much theyr money, tha are these folkes (alas) wofullye bee wrapped, for god pricketh vpo the of hys great goodnesse styl and y e grief of thys great pange pyncheth them at the hert, and of 444 EXTRACTS FROM wickednes thei wrie* awaye and fro this tribulacion thei turne to theyr fleshe for helpe and laboure to shake of this thought, and then they mende their pillow, and lay their head softer, & assay to slepe, and when that wil not be : than they finde a talke a while with the that lye by them. If that cannot be neyther, than they lye and long for day, and then geat them foorth about theyr worldlye wretchednes the mater of theyr prosperitie, the selfe same sinnefull thinges w‘ whiche thei dis¬ please God most, and at lengthe with manye times vsynge thys maner, God vtterly casteth them of. And then thei set nought neither by god nor deuil. Peccator cum in profundum venerit , contemnit. When the sinner commeth euen into the depth, than he contemneth and setteth nought by noting, sauing worldly feare that may fall by chance, or that nedes must (thei wote well) fall once by death ? But alas when death commeth, than commeth agayne their sorow, tha will no soft bed serue, nor no companye make him mery, than must he leaue his outwarde worship and coumfort of his glorye, and lye pantyng in his bedde as it were on a pine bank, than commeth his feare of his euill life, & of his dreadful death. Than commeth the torment, his coumbred conscience and feare of his heauy iudgement. Than the deuyll draweth him to dispayre with imagina- cion of hell, and suffreth hym not than to take it for a fable. And yet if he dooe, then fyndeth it the wretche no fable. Ah wo worthe f the whyle that folke thynke not of this in time. Godsendeth to some man great trouble in his minde, & great tribulacion about this worldly goodes because he would of his goodnesse take his delite and his confidence from the. And yet the man withdraweth no parte of his fonde fan¬ tasies, but falleth more feruentlye to them then before, & setteth his whole heart like a foole, more vpon them : and than he taketh him all to the deuises of his worldly cousailers and w*out any cousel of god or any trust putte in him maketh many wise waies as he weneth and al turne at length vnto foli, and one subtil drifte driueth an other to nought. Some haue I sene euen in their last sicknes set vp in their death bed vnderpropped with pillous, take their plai fellowes to them and comfort themselfe with cardes and thys thei said dyd ease them well to put fantasies oute of theyr heades, and what fantasies trowe you, such as I tolde you right nowe of theyr owne lewd lyfe and peril of their soule, of heauen and of hell that yrked them to thinke of, and therefore cast it out wyth cardes play as long as euer they myght til * See p. 212 ante. f See pp. 314, 418 ante. MORE’S WORKS. 445 the pure panges of death pulled their heart fro their play and put them in the case they coulde not recken theyr game. And then left them their gameners and slily slonke awaye, and long was it not ere they galped vp the ghoste. And what game they came than to, that God knoweth and not I. I pray god it wer good but I feare it verye sore.”— More’s Works , pp. 1161-62. Covetousness . “ But now let vs see as I said before, how the remebrace of deth may quicke mens eyen, againste this blind foly of couetice. bor surely it is an hard sore to cure : it is so mad, y‘ it is much work to make any good cousell sink into the hert. Wilt y" see it proued ? loke vpo the yong man who Christ himself coucelled, to sel y l he had, & geue it to pore folk, & coe & folow him. He clawed his hed & wet his way heuily, because he was riche : whereas saint Peter & other holy apostles, at the first call left theyre nets, which was in effect al y l they had, & fol- owed him. Thei had no gret things wherupon they had set theyr heartes to holde them backe. But and if theyr hertes had bene sore set vppon righte small thinges, it wold haue bene a great let. And no maruaile thoughe couetous be hard to hele. For it is not ethe to find a good tyme to geue the counsel. As for y e gloton is redy to here of teperance, ye & to preach also of fastig himself, whe his bely is wel filled. The lecherous, after his foule plesure past, may suffer to here of contynence, and abhorreth almoste y e tother by himself. But the couetous ma because he neuer ceaseth to dote * vpo his good, and is euer alyke gredy therupo, who so geueth him aduise to be liberali, semeth to preach to a gloton for fasting, when his bely is empty & gapeth for good meat s or to a lusty lechour, whe his lema is lately light in his lap. Scatlyca deth cure them when he commeth. I remember me of a thefe once cast at Newgate, that cut a purse at the barre when he shold be hanged on the morow. And when he was asked why he dyd so, knowing that he shoold dye so shortelye, the desperate wretche sayd, that it didde his heart good, to be lorde of that purse, one nyght yet. And in good faythe me thynketh as muche as wee wonder at hym, yet se we many that do much like, of whom we nothynge wonder at all. I let passe olde priestes that sewe for vow sons of yonger priestes benefices. I let passe olde men that houe and * Another instance of the word which Dibdin thought it necessary to explain in a Note on p. 256. 44 6 EXTRACTS FROM I ! gape to be executours to some that be yonger than themself : whose goodes if thei wold fal, they recken wold do them good to haue in their keping yet one yere ere they dye. But loke if ye see not some wretches y* scant can crepe for age, his hed hanging in his bosom, and his body croked, walk pit pat vpon a paire of patens wyth the staffe in the tone hande and the pater noster in the tother hande, the tone fote almost in the graue already, and yet neuer the more hast to part with any thynge, nor to restore that he hathe euyl gotten, but as gredy to geat a grote by the begiling of his neybour, as if he had of certaynty seuen score yere to Hue.”— More’s Works , pp. 93-4. The Old Woman who babbled in Church. “ Yf I durst be bold to tel so sad a man a merye tale, I would tel him of the frere, that as he was preaching in the country, spyed a poore wyfe of the paryshe whyspering wyth her pewfellow, and he fallyng angry thereto, cryed out vnto her aloude, holde thy bable I byd thee, thou wyfe in the red hoode. Whych whe the houswife heard : she waxed as angry agayne, and sodainly she start vp and cryed out vnto the frere agayne, that al the church rag ther on : mari sir I beshrew his hart that bableth most of vs bothe. For I doe but whysper a woord wyth my neyghboure here, and thou hast babied there al thys houre.”— More’s Works, p. 948. Death. “ By the hope of long life, we looke vppon death, either so far of that we se him not at al, or but a sleight & vncertain sight, as a man maye see a thing so far of, that he woteth not whither it be a bushe or a beast. And surely so fare we by death, loking there at a far of, through a gret long space of as manye yeares as we hope to Hue. And those we imagine manye, and perilously and folily beguile oureselfe. For like¬ wise as wiues would their husbandes shoulde wene by th exaumple of Sara, that there wer no woman so olde but she might haue a childe, so is there none olde man so olde, but that as Tully saith he trusteth to Hue one yere yet. And as for yong folk, they loke not how many be dead in theyr owne dayes yonger than themselfe, but who is y e oldest manne in the towne, & vpon his yeares thei make their reckening. Where the wiser way wer to recken, that a yonge man may die soone, and an olde manne cannot Hue long, but within a litle while die the tone may, the tother muste.” — More’s Works, p.79. MORE’S WORKS. 447 Of a man which longed sore to teach his wife “ the treatise of the spere" and how she anszvered him . “ Then muste Tyndall if he make hys reason like mine, make the synagoge of the Iewes lyke to the churche of Christ in perpetuitie of lastyng and contynuance vpon earthe, or els shall hys argumet and his ensample be as like to mine as I wist ones a gentil woma make vnto her husbande, whyche longed sore to teache her, & make her perceiue the treatise of thespere, and bidding her consyder wel what he shoulde shewe her. And first he began at the earthe, and to make her per¬ ceiue that the earth hangeth in y e myddes of the worlde by the payse and waight of him self, and the ayre compassing the water and the earthe rounde about on euery side : ye must (quod he) learne and marke wel this, that in y e whole world higher and lower, is nothing els but vtter and inner, so that of the whole world, earth, water, ayre, & al the speres aboue, being eche in a rounde compasse ouer other, the earthe lyeth in the verye middes, and as we might sai in y e wobe, and that is of the whole world from euerye part the innermost place, and from it vpon all sides towarde the heauen as it is outwarde, so is it hygher, so that as I tell you in the whole worlde all is one hygher and more outwarde, lower and more inwarde. And therefore the earthe syth he is in the very myddes, that is the most inwarde place of the whole world, he is therfore in y e lowest, for of y e whole world, the innest is as I told you the lowest. And than sythe the earthe lyeth in the lowest, hys owne weyghte ye wotte well muste needes holde hym there, bycause ye perceiue your self that no heuy thing can of him selfe as¬ cende vpward. And than the earth lying alreadye in the lowest place, if he should fall oute of place on any syde, lyke as he shoulde fall from y e inner part to the vtter, so should he fal fro y e lower place into the higher. And that ye wote wel it can not, bicause it is heauy. And therefore ymagyn that there were an hole bored euen thorowe the whole earthe, yf there were a mylle stone throwen downe here on thys syde from our feete, it should finally rest and remaine in the very myddes of y e earth. And though the hole go thorow, yet the stone could not fal thorow, bicause that from the myddes as it shoulde goo outeward from the in¬ nermost part, soshuld it (which a myl stone may not do) ascend higher from the lowest place, bicause as I told you in the whole world vpon euery syde to go outwarde from the innermoste, is ascending, and to go inwarde from the vttermoste is descendyng, and euer the vtter part is 448 EXTRACTS FROM on euery side of the whole rounde world the higher, and the inner part the lower. Now whyle he was tellyng her thys tale, she nothing went about to consider hys wordes, but as she was wont in all other thinges, studyed all the whyle nothing elles, but what she myght saye to the contrary. And when he hadde wyth much work & oft interrupting, brought at last his tale to an ende, wel (quod she) to him as Tindal sayth to me, I wil argue like & make you a lyke sample. My mayde hath yonder a spynning wheele, or els bicause al your reason reasteth in the round- nes of the world, come hither thou gyrle, take out thy spindle & bryng me hither the wharle. Lo sir ye make ymaginacions I can not tell you what. But here is a wharle and it is round as the world is, and we shal not neede to ymagin an hole bored thorow, for it hath an hole bored through in deede. But yet because ye go by imaginacions, I wyl imagin w* you. Ymagin me now y* thys wharle were ten myle thycke on euerye syde, & this hole thorow it stil, & so great that a myl stone might wel go thorowe it : now if the wharle stoode on the tone end, & a mil stone wer throwen in aboue at the tother end, would it go no further than the myds trow you ? By god if one threwe in a stone no bigger the an egge, I wene if ye stoode in the nether ende of the hole hue myle byneth the myddes, it would giue you a patte vpon y e pate that it would make you claw your head, and yet should ye feele none itche at all. It wer to long a tale to tel you al their dispisions. For wordes would she none haue lacked, thoughe they shoulde haue disputed the space of seuen yere. But in conclusion, because there is no mo wordes but one wherby he might gyue her a true sample, nor she could not per- ceyue the difference betwen the world and the wharle, but would nedes haue the lyke, & both one, bicause both wer rounde : her husband was faine to put vp his spere, & leaue his wife her wharle, & fal in talklg of some other matter.”— More’s Works, pp. 628-9. A n Old Man. “ A fonde olde manne is often as full of woordes as a woman. It is, you wote wel, as soe Poetes paynte vs, all the lust of an olde fooles life, to sitte wel and warme with a cuppe and a rosted crabbe, and driuil, and drinke and talke.”*— More’s Works, p. 1169. * The marginal note to this is “ As true as the gospell. The lust of old folkes life.” MORE’S WORKS. 449 Pride. “ If it be so sore a thing, & so farre vnfitting in the sight of god, to see the sinne of pryde in the persone of a great estate, that hath yet many occasyons of inclinacion therunto : how much more abhomin- able is that pieuish pride in a lewde vnthriftye iauell,* that hath a purse as peniles as any pore pedler, and hath yet an hert as high as mani a mighti prince. And if it be odious in the sight of god, that a woman beawtiful in dede abuse the pryde of her beawty to y e vayn glory of her selfe : how delectable is that dayntie damesell to the deuil, that standeth in her own light, and taketh herself for fayre, wening herselfe wel lyked for her brode forehead, whyle y e young man that beholdeth her, marketh more her crooked nose. And if it be a thing detestable for any creature to ryse in pryde, vppon the respect and regard of per¬ sonage beawty, strength, witte, or learning, or other such maner thyng as by nature & grace are properlye theyr owne : howe much more foolish abusio is ther in that pryde, by which we worldlye folke looke vp on height, and solemnelye set by our selfe, with diepe disdayne of other farre better men, onely for very vayn worldly tryfles that pro¬ perly be not our own ? How proud be men of golde and syluer, no part of our self, but of thearth, and of nature no better then is the poore coper or tinne, nor to mans vse so profitable, as is the poore mettall that maketh vs y e plough share, and horse shoone, and horse nayles. Howe proud be many menne of these glystering stones, of which y e very brightnes, though he cost the. xx.li. shall neuer shine half so bright nor shew thee half so much lighte, as shal a poore half- peny candel. How proude is many a ma ouer his neighbour, because the wull of hys gowne is fyner ? and yet as fyne as it is, a poore shepe ware it on her backet before it came vpon his : and al the while she ware it, wer her wull neuer so fine, yet was she pardie but a shepe. And why should he be now better then she by that wull, that though it be his, is yet not so berelye his, as it was verely hers. But now how many men are there proude of that that is not theyrs at al ? Is there no man proude of keping another mannes gate ? another mannes horse ? another mannes hound or hawke ? what a bragkyng maketh a beareward w* his syluer buttened bawdrike, for pride of another mannes bere ? Howbeit what speke we of other mennes and our own ? I can see nothing (the thing well weyed) that any man may wel call his own. But as me maye call hym a foole that beareth hymselfe * See Note on p. 201, where this word is used. f See Utopia, p. 279 ante. 450 EXTRACTS FROM prowde, because he ietteth about in a borowed gown, so may we be wel called very fooles all, if we beare vs proude of any thing that we haue here.”— More’s Works, p. 1272. “Of the vnsuretye of landes and possessions 0 Vyncent. “Landes and possessions many menne yet much more esteme than money, beecause the landes seme not so casuali as money is or plate, for that though theyr other substaunce may bee stole and taken awaye, yet euermore they thynke that theyr lande wyll lye still where it laye. But what are we the better that oure lande cannot be styred, but will lye still where it lay, while our selfe may be remoued, and not suffered to coe nere it.For whan we be fayne our self to flee, we maye make shyfte to cary some of oure money with vs, whereof our lad we cannot carye one ynche. Anthony . Oh Cosin Vincent, if y e whole worlde were annimated with a reasonable soule (as Plato hadde wente it were) and that it hadde wit and vnderstandyng, to mark and perceiue all thyng, lord God howe the grounde on whiche a Prince buyldeth his palice, would lowde laugh his Lord to scorne, whan he saw him proud of his posses¬ sion, and heard hym boaste himselfe, that he and his bloode are for euer the verye Lordes and owners of y e lande. For than woulde the grounde thinke the while in hymselfe. Ah thou selye poore soule, that wenest thou were halfe a God, and arte amidde thy glorye but a manne in a gay gowne, I that am the ground here ouer whom thou art so prowde, haue hadde an hundred suche owners of me as thou calleste thy selfe, moe than euer thou hast heard y e names of. And some of them that proudly went ouer mine head : lye now low in my bellye, and my syde lyeth ouer them. And manye one shall as thou doest now, cal hymselfe mine owner after thee, y 1 neyther shall bee sybbe to thy bloude, nor any word heare of thy name. Who ought your castel (Cosyn) thre thousande yere agoe ? Vyncent. Three thousand vncle ? naye naye in any kyng Christen or heathen, you maye strike of a thyrd part of that well ynoughe, and as farre as I wene halfe of the remenaunt to. In far fewer yeres than thre thousand, it may well fortune that a poore plowmannes bloude, maye come vp too a kyngdome : and a kinges right royall kynne on the tother syde fall downe to the plowghe and carte, add neither that kine knowe that euer he came fro the cart, nor that carter knowe that euer he came fro the crowne.”— More’s Works, p. 1219. ■ ! 1 MORE’S WORKS. 45i Purgatory, Hell, Loiv places . “ Surely not only amog christe people & Iewes of who the tone hath, y e tother hath had, the perceiuing and light of faith, but also amog the very miscreant & idolaters, Turkes, Saracens, and Painims, except onely such as haue so farre falle fro the nature of man into a brutish beastly perswasion as to belieue that soule and body dye both at once, els hath ahvaie y e remenant comely thought and belieued that after the bodies dead and deceased, the soules of such as wer neither deadly daned wretches for euer, nor on y e tother side, so good but that their offences done i this world hath deserued more punishment then thei haddesuffred & sustained there, wer punished and purged by pain after the death ere euer they wer admitted vnto their wealth & rest. This fayth hath alway not only faithful people had but also as we say veri miscreantes and ydolaters haue euer had a certain oppinion and per¬ swasion of the same: whyther that of the fyrste light & reuelacyon geuen of such thynges to our former fathers, there hath alway remayned a glimering that hath gone forth fro man to man, fro one generacion to another, & so cotinued & kept among al people, or els y l nature & reasd haue taught men euery wher to perceiue it.” .... “ Sith y* god of his righteousnes wil not leue si vnpunished, nor his goodnes wil perpetually punish the fault after the mans conuersion : it foloweth that the punishment shall be temporal. And now sithe the man ofte dieth before such punishment had, eyther at Gods hande by some affliccio sent hym or at hys owne by due penaunce done, whiche the moste part of people wantoly dothe for slouthe : a very child al- moste may see the consequent that the punishment at the death re- maynyng dewe and vndone, is to be endured and sustayned after.” . . “ Lette vs therefore see whyther that purgatory do not appeare opened & reueled vnto chrysten people in holy scrypture selfe. And fyrst it semeth very probable and lykely that the good kyng Ezechias for none other cause wepte at the warnyng of hys death geuen hym by the prophete, but onely for the feare of purgatory. For al be it that diuers doctours allege diuers causes of his heauines and lothnes at y l time to depart & die : yet semeth ther none so likely as the cause that auncient doctours allege, that is to wit that he was loth to die for the feare of his estate after his death, forasmuch as he had offended god by ouer muche liking of hymselfe, wherw 4 he wist y‘ god was displeased w l him & gaue him warning by y e prophete, that he should liue no lenger. Now cosidered he so y e weighte of his offence, that he thought F F 452 EXTRACTS FROM & estemed y e only losse of this present life far vnder the iust & condigne punishment therof, & therfore fel in gret dred of far sorer punishment after. But beyng as he was a good faythful kyng, he could not lack sure hope through his repentance of such forgeuenes, as shold preserue him fro hell. But sith his tyme should be so short y 4 he shold haue no leysure to do penance for his fault : he therfore feared y 4 theremenant of his ryghtuous punishmet should be perfourmed in purgatory. And therfore wept he tenderly & loged to liue leger, y 4 his satisfaccio done here in the world in praier & other good vertuous dedes, might abolish & weare out al y e pain y 4 els wer towarde him here amog vs. To which his feruet boone & desyre at the conteplacion of his penitent heart, our lord of his high pitie condyscended and graunted hym the lengthyng of his lyfe, for .xv. yeres, making hi for his farther cofort sure therof by the shew of a manifest miracle. But wherto grauted our lord that leger life, to be bestowed vpd worldly delite & pleasure ? Nay nay verely. But to thetent it might appere that it was of gods great mercy granted for the redeming of hys purgatory by good workes for his satisfaccion : he was promised by y e prophete not onli that he should w 4 in .iii. daies be recouered & whole, but also that he shold go into the teple to pray. So that it may therby appeare for what ende & entet he longed so sore for a lenger life.” .... “ If thei could w 4 an equal & indifferent minde consyder & weie what thei heare, thei should sone se their heresy reproued & purgatory surely confirmed, not only by probable reason taken of the scripture as in y c place y 4 we rehersed you of Ezechias, but also by plain & euident textes. For haue ye not y e wordes of scripture written in the boke of the kynges ? Dominus deducit ad mferos & reducit : our Lord bryngeth folk down into hel and bringeth them thece agayn. But thei y 4 bee in that hell where the damned soules be : thei be neuer deliuered thence again, Wherfore it appeareth wel that thei whom god deliuereth and bringeth thence again, be in that part of hell that is called purgatory. What say they to y e wordes of the prophete Zachary : Tu quoque in sanguint testame?iti tui eduxisti ‘vinctos tuos de lacu in quo non erat aqua. Thou hast in y e bloud of thy testamet brought out thy bounde prisoners oute of y e pit or lake in whiche ther was no water. In y 4 thei who y e pro¬ phet ther speaketh of wer bofide, we mai wel perceiue that thei wer in a priso of punishmet. And in that he calleth them the prisoners of god. it is eth to perceyue that he meaneth not any that wer taken, and em- prisoned by anye other tha the daned spirites y e very gaylers of god And in y 4 he saith that there is in that lake no water, we may we MORE’S WORKS. 453 perceiue that he spake it i descripcid of that drie pit of fire, wherin ther is no refreshig : For as hoat are we here as thei are in hel. And what heat is in the pit where ther lacketh water, our sauior himself declareth by the woordes of the rich gloton lyigin such a lake fro whece at sight of pore Lazarus in Abrahams bosome, he desired heuely to haue hym sent vnto him w* one drop of water to refresh his tong, y l after al y e delicates that he had tasted in his life, lay ther the sore burnyng, & neuer set halfe so muche by twenty tune of wyne, as he set by one pore drop of water. So that as we shew you, these wordes of y e prophet Zacharye. Thou hast brought out thy bouden prysoners out of the lake wher in is no water, do right wel appeare to be spoken of these poore emprisoned soules whome Christ after his bitter passion by his precious bloude wherewith he consecrated his churche in his new testa¬ ment, delyuered out of the lake of fyre wherin they lay bounden for their sinnes. But now is there no man that doubteth whyther Christ deliuered the damned soules out of hell or not. For in that hel is there no redempcion, and in limbo patrum the soules were in reste. Where¬ fore it appeareth clerelye that those prisoners whome he brought out of theyr payne, he broughte onely out of purgatorye. And so se these heretykes purgatorie clerely proued by the playn wordes of this holy prophete. Another place is there also in the old testamet y* putteth purgatory quite out of question. For what is plainer then the places which in the boke of the Machabees make mencion, of the deuout re- mebrance, prayer, almose, and sacrifice, to be done for soules when the good and holy ma Iudas Machabeus gathered money among the peo¬ ple to buye sacryfyce withall to bee offred vp for the soules of them that wer dead in y e battayle. Doth not this place of scripture so openlye declare the nede that we soules haue I purgatory, and the reliefe that we fynde by the prayer and suffrages of good people vpon earth, that al the heretikes y‘ bark so fast against vs, can find neither glose nor colour to the contrary ? What shift finde thei here ? surely a very shameles shift, and are faine to take them to that tackeling that is their shoote anker alway, when thei find the storme so great that thei se theyr ship goeth all to wreck. For first they vse to set some false glose to the text that is layde against them, & deny the right sence. But now if the text be so plain y l thei ca haue no such colour then when they can haue no more holde but se that their part goeth al to naught, thei fall to a shameles boldenes & let not to deny the scripture & al, and sai the holy scripture which is layd against them is none holy scripture at all, as Luther playth with the godly epistle of Christs bles- 454 EXTRACTS FROM sed apostle saint lames.The wold we gladly wit of these new men these enmies we meane of ours, whither the churche of Christ be not of as great authoritie & as much to be belieued in y e choise & elec- cio of holy scripture as the Iewes. If they wil say yes, then answer thei themselfe, for then is the boke of the Machabees by the choyse of the Churche proued hoiye scrypture thoughe the Iewes neuer accounted it so. Now yf they wyll say no, and wil contend that it cannot be ac- couted holy scripture though the churche of Christ so take it, but if the Iewes so toke it too, then go they nere to put out saynt lohns ghospell out of scripture too, for the Iewes neuer toke it for none. And surely yf they admit for scripture y e boke that the Iewes admitted, and deny that boke to be scripture which the church of Christ receiueth for scrip¬ ture, then doe thei say that the spirite of god was more effectually present and assistente vnto y e sinagoge of the Iewes in the law of hys prophete Moyses, then vnto the churche of his owne onely begotten sonne in the lawe of Christes ghospell. If thei consider well the bokes of y e Machabees, they shall finde suche thing therein as maye gene the good occasion to put litle doubt but that it should be of great and vndeniable authoritie. For they shall fynde there that the great good and godly valyaunt capitayne of goddes people dyd institute and ordayne the great feaste of the dedicacion of the temple of Hierusalem called Festum enceniorum of the annuali institucion, of whiche feast we reade no where els but in the boke of the Machabees. And yet fynd we that feast euer after continued and had in honour vntyll Christes owne dayes, and our sauiour hymself went to the celebracion of that same feast, as ap¬ peared! in the ghospell of saynt Iohn. So that it maye well appeare that the bokes of that noble historye whereof remayneth so noble a monument and remembrance, continually kept and reserued so long after, and honoured by Christes owne precious person and testified by his holy Euagelyste in the boke of his holy gospel : cannot be but vn- doubted trueth & of deuine authoritie. And surely if thei denie the boke of y e Machabees for holy scripture because the Iewes accompt it not for suche : then shal thei by the same reason refuse y e authoritie of the boke of Sapience, & proue themself insipientes. And likewise yf they take al scripture besyde the new testamet to be of none other force and authoritie then it is accompted in the rule and canon of the Iewes, then shall the whole psalter of Dauid the very somme of clere and lyghtsome prophesies, leese among them great part of his autho- MORE’S WORKS. 455 rytie, sithe it is not taken in lyke force and stregth amog y e Ievves as it is i Christes churche.” .... “ And surely yf the church might so be deceiued in y e choyse of holy scripture, y 4 thei might take & approue for holy scripture any boke y 4 wer none, the stode al Christendom in doubt & vnsurety, whither saint Iohns gospel wer holy scripture or not, & so forth of al the new testa¬ ment.” .... “ And first let vs consider the woordes of the blessed apostle & Euangelist saint Iohn, wher he saith. Est peccatum vsque ad mortem , non dico, vt pro eo roget quis. There is sayth he some sinne that is vnto the death, I bid not that any man shal pray for that. This sin as the interpreters agre, is vnderstanden of desperacion and impeny- tence : as though saint Iohn would sai, y 4 who so depart out of this world impenitet or in dispaire, any prayer after made can neuer stand him in stede. The appereth it clerely that sainte Iohn meaneth that there be other which die not in such case for who he would men should pray, because that prayer to such soules maye be profitable. But that profile ca no ma take neyther beyng in heauen where it nedeth not, nor beyng in hell where it boteth not. Wherefore it appereth plain that such praier helpeth only for purgatorye : whiche they must there¬ fore nedes graut, except thei denye salt Iho. What say thei to y e wordes of saint Iohn in the fift chapiter of the Apocalips : I haue heard saith he euery creature y 4 is in heauen & vpo the earth and vnder the earth and that be in the sea & all thynges y 4 bee in them, al these haue I heard say : benediccion and honor and glory and power for euer, be to him that is sitting in the trone, and vnto the lamb. Now wotteth euery ma well, that in hel among daned soules is there none that geueth glorye to Christ for the redempcion of ma. For they for anger that by their own defaut thei haue lost their part therof, and cannot for proude heart take theyr faulte to themself, fal to blasphemy as the deuyll doth himself, and impute theyr synne to the fault of Gods grace, and their damnacion to the blame of his creacion. So that the prayse and glorye that is geuen by creatures in hell vnto the lambe for mannes redempcid, is only by y e soules in purgatory, that be and shal be parte- ners of that redepcio : as the creatures walkyng vpon earth saylyng in the sea, that geue the honour to Christ for mans redempcid, be onely the christen people, which loke & hope to be partners therof, and not infidels y 4 beleue it not. But the blessed creatures in heauen geue honor to Christ for mans redempcion, for that ioy and pleasure that 456 EXTRACTS FROM their charitie taketh in y e societie and felowship of saued soules. And in this place it is a world to see the foly of some heretikes, what eua- sion thei seke to voide from this place of scripture. They say that it is no more to be vnderstanden by soules here in purgatory nor christen men lyuyng vppon earth, then by fishes in the sea, and the deuil and damned soules in hel : because the text sayth that euery creature in the sea and in hell, spake that laude and honour to the lamb. But by this wise wai might thei preue, that when ye pray for all christen soules, ye meane to pray for our Ladies soule and for Iudas too : and that our sauior whe he sent his apostles and bad them preach his ghospel to euery creature, thei may beare you in hand that he bad them preache to oxen & keene and their calues to, because all they bee creatures. But as thei wer sent to none other creature, then such as he ment of, though he spake of all, nor ye meane to prai for no soules but such as haue nede & may haue help though ye speake of all : so though saint Iohn spake of euery creature in hel, geuing honor to Christe for mans redepcion,yet met he but such as be in y e hel in which thei reioyce ther- in & shal be parteners therof, which be only we in purgatorye, & not y e deuils and daned soules y‘ blaspheme hi though their iuste punish- met redoud against there wil to y e glory of gods righteousnes. If all this wyll not satisfy them, wyll ye se yet another clere place and suche as none heretike canne auoyde ? Dothe not the blessed apostle saint Peter as appeareth in the seconde chapiter of the Apostles actes, say of our sauiour Christ in thys wyse : Quem deus suscitauit 'solutis dolo¬ ribus inferni : In these wordes he sheweth that paynes of hel wer losed. But these paynes were neither paines of that hel in whiche the damned soules be pained, which neither wer losed then, nor neuer be losed, but be and shalbe as our sauiour saith hymself euerlasting : nor these paines y t wer than losed wer not y e paines in limbo patrum , for there wer none to bee losed, for the -good soules wer there as oure sauior sheweth himself in quiet cofort & rest. And so appeareth it euidently, y l the paines of hell y 1 wer losed wer onely the paines of purgatory which is also called hell by occasion of the latin worde & the greke worde both. For in these tonges (forasmuch as before the resurrec- cion of our sauioure Christ there was neuer none that asceded vp into heauen) there was no people y t any otherwise spake of soules, the that thei wer gone down beneth into the low place. And therfore in the wordes of the come crede is it said of our sauior Christ after his pas¬ sion : Descendit ad inferna ; that is to say he discended down beneth into the lowe places. In stede of which low places y c english toung MORE’S WORKS. 457 hath euer vsed thys word hel. And certain is it & very sure, y l Christ deseeded not into al these low places, nor into euery place of hel, but only into limbus patru & purgatory. Which two places because thei be partes of habitacions of soules beneth (al which habitacios beneth haue in eglish alway be called hel) therfore are these .ii. places amog other taken & coprehended vnder y e name of hel. Which word hel nothing els sygnifieth vnto vs in his general significacio, but y e habi¬ tacios of soules beneth or vnder vs in y e low places vnder y e groud, Albeit because limbus patru & purgatory be called in Englishe also by their speciali names beside : therfore is most comelye this word hel restrained to y e special significacio of y e low place beneth in which y e daned soules be punished. This much haue we shewed you of this word hel, because we wold not y* the comme takyng therof might bryng you into any error. So y l by this place ye see proued by y e plain wordes of saint Peter, that Christ at his resurreccio dyd lose and vnbind paines in hell,whiche as we haue shewed you could be no where there but I pur¬ gatory. For in the speciali hell of daned soules y e paines wer not losed. And in limbus patrum was no paines to be losed. And therfore ex¬ cept thei deny saint Peter, they canot deny purgatory. And yet if they denye saint Peter : we shall then alledge them saint Poule, whom thei be best content to heare of, because that of the difficultie of his writing thei catch sometime some matter of contencion for the defence of their false exposicion. This blessed apostle in his first epistle to the Corinthyes the third chapiter, speaking of our sauiour Christ the very foundacion and the onely foundacion of all our fayth & saluacion, saith : If any man byld vpo this foundacid gold, siluer, precious stones, wood, hay, or strawe : euerie mans work shal be made ope, for the day of our lorde shall declare it, for in the fyre it shall bee shewed, & the fyre shall proue what maner of thing euery mans worke is. If anye mannes woorke that he hath bilded thereon dooe abyde : he shall haue a rewarde. If any mannes woorke burne : he shal suffer harme, but he shal bee safe, but yet as by fyre. In these woordes the Apostle sheweth that likewyse as some menne abydyng vppon Christe and his verye liuelye fayth, bylde vp thereupon suche good woorkes as are so good and so pure, that they bee lyke fyne golde, fyne siluer, or such fine precious stones, as when thei be cast in the fire it ca fynd no filth to fetch out of them, and therfore thei remain in the fyre safe and vn- minished, so are there some on the tother side, which though thei do not as mani other do, with mortali sinnes and lack of good works, wound their faith vnto y e death, and fal fro Christe the foundacion that 458 EXTRACTS FROM they must bilde vpo, yet do thei abidyng vpon that foundacion, bild vp therupon many such simple & fraile & corruptyble workes as can neuer enter heaue. And suche be venial sinnes, as ydle wordes, vain & wato mirth, & such other thinges lyke : whiche be but lyke woode, haye, or strawe. Now if thei would beare you in had y l because som doctours do conster those wordes of the apostle in diuers other seses, as they do conster in diuers seses almost euery text in scripture, sometyme after the letter, sometime moral, & sometime otherwyse, and al to the profit and edifyig of the hearers : yf these heretikes woulde therefore pre- tende that saynte Poule in that place mente nothyng of purgatory, but the fyre that shal be sente before the dome, or worldly tribulacion or some such other thing: ye shal wel vnderstand that though his woordes may be verifyed and well and profitably applyed vnto such thynges also, yet letteth that nothing these wordes to be properly by saint Poule spoken of purgatory, no more then it letteth these woordes to be properly spoken by Christ : Ego in Flagella paratus sum: & many an other verse in the psalter also, though y e same wordes may be wel applyed and verified of many an other man offryng himself pa- ciently to the sufferaunce of vniust punishmente.”— More’s Works, PP- 315-322. “A stoute master woman” Anthony. “A good frende of ours merely tolde me once, that his wife once in a gret anger taught it him. For whan her housebande had no list to growe greatlye vpwarde in the worlde, nor neither would labour for office of authorite, and ouer that forsoke a right woorshipful roume whan it was offred hym, she fel in hand with hym (he tolde me) and all to rated him, and asked hym : what wyll you doe that you list not to put furth youre selfe as other folke doe ? wyll you sitte styl by the fire, and make goselinges in the asshes with a sticke as children do ? would God I were a manne : and loke what I woulde doe. Why wife quod her housebande what woulde you doe ? What ? by God goe for- warde with the beste. For as my mother was wonte to saye, God haue mercy on her soule, it is euer more better to rule than to bee ruled. And therefore by God I woulde not I warraunte you bee so foolishe to bee ruled, where I mighte rule. By my trouthe wife quod her house¬ bande in this I dare saye you saye trouth. For I neuer foud you willing to be ruled yet. Vyncent. Well (Uncle) I wote where you bee now wel ynough, she is in dede a stoute master woman.”— More’s Works, p. 1224. MORE’S WORKS. 459 Better to be openly vicious than self-righteous. “ I haue sene many vices ere this, y 4 at y e first semed far fro pride, & yet wel considered to y e vttermost, it wold wel appere, y 4 of y e rote thei sprang. As for wrathe and enuy, be the knowe childre of pride, as rising of an hie estimacio of our self. But what shold seme farther fro pryde than dronken glotonye. And yet shal ye find mo y e drink theself sow druk of pride to be called good felowes, than for luste of the drink self. So spredeth this cursed roote of pride his braunches into all other kindes, beside'his proper malyce for his own part, not onely in hye mind of fortune, rule, and authoritie, bewtye, wit, stregth, lerning, or such other gifts of god, but also y e fals pride of Ipocrites that faine to haue the vertues that they lack : and the perilous pride of the, that for theyr few spotted vertues, not w 4 out the mixture of other mortali vices : take theself for quick sainteson earth : proudly iudging y e Hues of their euen christe, disdaining other mes vertue, euying other mens praise, bering implacable anger where they perceue theself not accepted & set by, after the worthines of theyr own estimacio. Which kind of spiritual pride, & therupo folowing euy & wrath, is so much y e more pestilet, in y 4 it carieth w 4 it a blidnes almost Icurable saue gods gret mercye. For the lechor knoweth he doth nought, & hath remorse therof. The gloto perceiueth his own faut, & somtyme thlketh it bestly. The slouthful body misliketh his dulnes, & thereby is moued to med. But this kind of pride, y 4 1 his own opinio taketh hlself for holy, is far¬ thest fro al recouery. For how ca he mend his faut y 4 taketh it for none, y 4 weneth all is wel y 4 he doth himself, & nothing y 4 anye ma doth els, y 4 couereth his purpose w 4 y e pretext of soe holy purpose, y 4 he wil neuer begin while he liueth, taketh his euy for an holy desire, to get before his neybour'in vertue, & taketh his wrath & anger for an holy zele of iustice. And thus whyle he proudly liketh his vices, he is out all y e way to med the. In so farforth y 4 I surely think there be some, who had in good faith made the best marchandise y 4 euer they made in theyr Hues for theyr owne soules, if they had changed those spiritual vices, of pride, wrathe, & enuy, for the beastly carnal sinnes of glotony, slouth, & lechery.” .... “ For as saint Poule saith (y e fleshly sines be eth to perceiue : & so shold they haue occasio to cal for grace & wax good. Wher now by theyr pride taking themselfe for good where they be nought, they bee far fro al occasio of amedment, sauing the knockyngof our lord, which alway stadeth at the dore of mans hert and knocketh, whome I praye god we maye geue eare vnto and let him in.”— More's Works , pp. 82-3. 460 EXTRACTS FROM Of Mirth, and of telling merry tales in the Sermon. Vyncent. And first good vncle ere wee procede farther, I will bee bold to moue you one thing more of that we talked whe I was here beefore. For when I reuolued in my mynde agayn the thynges that were concluded here by you, me thought ye would in no wyse that in any tribulacion me should seeke for coumforte, either in worldlye thyng or fleshlye, whiche mynde vncle of yours, semeth somewhat harde, for a merye tale wyth a frende, refresheth a manne muche, and without any harme lyghteth his mynd, & amendeth his courage and hys stomake, so that it semeth but well done to take suche recreacion. And Salomon sayeth I trowe, that me should in heauinesse geue the sory man wyne to make hym forgeat his sorow. And saynct Thomas sayth, that proper pleasaunte talkynge whyche is called (tvt pa.weA.ia is a good vertue seruyng to refreshe the mynde, & make it quycke and lustye to labour and study agayn, where continuall fatigacion, woulde make it dull and deadlye. Anthony. Cosyn, I forgat not that poynte, but I longed not much to touch it, for neyther might I well vtterlye forbeare it, wher the cause might happe to fall y‘ it should not hurte, and on the other syde yf the case so shoulde fall, me thoughte yet it shoulde litle nede to geue ani man counsayle to it, folke are prone ynoughe to suche fan- tasyes of theyr owne mynde, you maye see thys by our selfe, whyche comyng now together, to talke of as erneste sad matter as menne can deuyse, were fallen yet euen at the first into wato idle tales : and of trouth cosin, as you know very well, my selfe am of nature euen halfe a gigglot and more. I would I could as easily mende my faulte as I well knowe it, but scante canne I refraine it as olde a foole as I am : how beit so parcial wil I not be to my fault as to praise it. But for that you require my minde in the matter, whether menne in tribulacion may not lawfully seeke recreacion and coumfort themselfe, with some honest mirth, first agreed that our chief coforte must be in god, & that with hym we must begin, & with him contynue, & w‘ him end also. A ma to take now & than som honest worldly mirth, I dare not be so sore as vtterly to forbid it, syth good men & wel learned, haue in soe case allowed it, specially for the diuersitie of diuers mens mindes : for els yf we wer al such, as would god we wer, & such as natural wise- dome would we should be, and is not al cleane excusable that wee be not in dede : I wold than put do nout, but y 4 vnto ani ma the most comfortable talking y‘ could be, wer to heare of heue wheras now god help vs, our wretchednes is such y l in talking a while thereof, men MORE’S WORKS. 461 waxe almost wery, and as thoughe to heare of heauen were an heauye burdayne, they muste refreshe themself after with a foolishe tale. Our affeccyon towarde heauenlye ioyes waxeth wonderful colde. If dread of hell wer as far gone, veryefewe wouldefeare God, but that yet a litle sticketh in our stomakes, marke me Cosyn at the Sermon, and com- menlye towardes the ende, somewhat the preacher speaketh of hell and heauen : nowe whyle he preacheth of the paynes of hell, styll they stande and yet geue hym the hearynge. But as soone as he commeth to the ioyes of heauen, they bee buskyng them backeward and flocke meale fall away, it is in the soule somewhat as it is in the body. Som are there of nature or of euil custome come to that point, that a worse thinge sometime more stedeth them than a better. Some manne if he bee sicke, can awaye with no wholesome meate, nor no medicine can goe downe with hym, but if it be tempered with some suche thyng for his fantasie as maketh the meate or the medicine lesse wholesome than it should be. And yet while it wil be no better, we must let him haue it so. Cassianus y l very vertuous manne re- hearseth in a certayne collacion of his, that a certain holy father in makyng of a sermon, spake of heauen and heauenly thinges, so celes¬ tially, that muche of his audyence w 4 the swete sounde therof, beganne to forgeat all the world and fal a slepe : which when the father behelde, he dissembled their sleping, and sodainly said vnto the I shall tel you a merye tale. At whyche worde they lift vp their heades and harkened vnto that: & after the slepe therew* broken, heard hym tell on of heauen agayne. In what wyse that good father rebuked than theyr vntowarde mindes so dul vnto the thyng that al our life we labour for : and so quicke and lustye towarde other trifles, I neither beare in minde, nor shall here neede to rehearse. But thus much of that matter sufflseth for oure purpose, that where as you demaunde me whyther in tribulacion me maye not sometyme refreshe themselfe with worldly mirthe and recreacion, I can no more say, but he y* cannot log endure to hold vp his head & heare talking of heue except he be nowe & tha betwene (as though heuen were heauines) refreshed with a meri folish tale, ther is none other remedi but you must let him haue it: better would I wish it, but I cannot helpe it. Howbeit, let vs by mine aduise at the least wyse make those kyndes of recreacion as shorte and as silde as we ca : let them serue vs but for sawce, and make them not our meate, and lette vs pray vnto god, and all our good frendes for vs, that we may fele suche a sauoure in the delyght of heauen, that in respect of the talkyng of the ioyes thereof, all 462 EXTRACTS FROM worldlye recreacion be but a gryefe to thinke on. And be sure cosin, that yf we might once purchase the grace to come to that point, we neuer found of worldly recreacion so muche coumforte in a yere, as we should fynde in the bethynkyng vs of heauen in lesse than half an houre.— More’s Works , pp. 1170-72. The Rich are seldom faithfully dealt with about their failings. Vincent. “Me thinke that you say verye sore in some thynge con- cerninge suche persons as are in continual prosperity, and they be you wote wel not a fewe, & those are they also that haue the rule and au- thoritye of this world in theyr had. And I wotte wel, that when they talke wyth such great cunning men, as can I trow tel the truth : and when they aske theym whyther (whyle they make mery here in earth al theyr lyfe) they maye not yet for al that haue heauen after to : they do tell them yes yes well inoughe. For I haue heard them tel them so my selfe. Anthony. I suppose good Cosyn that no very wyse man, and spe¬ cially none that very good is therewyth wil tel any man fully of that fashion : but surely suche as so say to them, I feare me that they flat¬ ter them either for lucre or feare. Some of them think peraduenture thus. This man maketh much of me now, & geueth me money also to faste and watche and pray for him, but so I feare me would he do no more if I should go tel hym nowe that al that I do for hym wyll not serue hym, but if he goe faste and watche and praye for hymselfe to. For if I shoulde sette thereto, and saye father that my dilyget inter¬ cession for him, should I trust (be the meane) y 4 God shoulde the sooner geue him grace to amend, & fast & watch and pray, and take affliccion in his own body for the bettering of his sinful soul, he wold be woderous wroth wyth that. For he would be loth to haue any suche grace at al as should make him go leaue of any of hys mirth & so syt & mourne for hys synne. Such minde as thys lo, haue ther som of those that are not vnlearned & haue worldly wyt at wyll, whiche tell great men suche tales as perilouslye begyle them, rather then the flat¬ terer that so telleth them wold with a true tale ieopard to leese hys lucre. Some are there also that such tales tel them for consideracion of an other feare. For seeing the man so sore set on hys pleasure, that thei dispayre any amendement of him whatsoeuer they shoulde shewe hym, and then seeing also besyde that the manne 'dothe no greate harme, but of a gentle nature doth some good men some good, MORE’S WORKS. 463 they prai God them self to send him grace and so they let hym lye lame styl in hys fleshlye lustes. Ad probaticam piscinam cxpectantes aquae motum. At the poole y* the gospell speaketh of besyde the temple wherin they washed y e shepe for the sacrifice & they tary to se the water stired, & when hys good Aungell coming fro God shal once begyn to stire the water of hys hart, & moue hym to the lowly meke- nes of a symple shepe than if he cal them to hym thei wil tel him an other tale, & helpe to beare hym & plounge hym into the poole of penaunce ouer the harde eares : but in the meane whyle for feare least when he would waxe neuer y e better, he would waxe much the wursse : and from gentle, smothe, swete, and curtise, waxe agry, rough, froward & sower and therupon be troublous & tedious to the world : to make fayre weather wythal, they gyue him fayre woordes for the whyle, & put hym in good comforte, and let hym for the remnaunt stande at hys own aduenture. And in such wise deale they wyth him as the mother doth some- tyme wyth her chyld : which when the litle boy wyl not ryse in tyme for her, but lye styl a bed and slugge, & when he is vp weepeth be¬ cause he hath lien so long, fearyng to be beate at scoole for hys late comyng thither : she telleth hym then that it is but earely dayes, & he shal com time inough and biddeth hym go good sone I warrant the, I haue sent to thy mayster my self, take thy breade & butter w l thee, thou shalt not be beaten at al. And thus, so she may send him mery forth at y e dore that he weepe not in her sighte at home, she studieth not much vppon the matter though he be taken tardy & beaten when he cometh to scoole. Surely thus I feare me fare ther many freres & states chaplaynes to, in comforte geuing to greate men when thei be loth to displease them. I cannot comend their thus doyng, but surely I feare me thus they do.”— More’s Works, p. 1156. Destiny. “ Where were become al good ordre amog men, if euery misordred wretche myght alledge that his mischieuous dede was his desteny. . . . they may be then wel aunswered with their owne wordes, as one was serued in a good towne in Almayn, which when he had robbed a man and was brought before y e iudges he could not deny the dede, but he sayde it was his desteny to do it, and therefore thei might not blame hym, thei aunswered him after his owne doctrine, thatyf it were his desteny to steale, & that therfore they muste holde hym excused, than it was also their desteny to hange hym, and therfore he must as well hold them excused agayn.”— More’s Works, p. 274. 464 EXTRACTS FROM Let your Light shine before men. “ Isop saith in a fable, that euery man carieth a double wallet no his shoulder, and into the one that hangeth at his brest he putteth other folkes faultes, and therein he toteth and poreth often. In the other he layeth vp all his owne & swyngeth it at his backe, which him¬ self neuer listeth to looke in, but other that come after hym cast an iye into it among. Woulde God we were all of the mynde that euery ma thought no manne so badde as hymself. For that were the waye to mende bothe them and vs. Nowe they blame vs, and we blame the, and bothe blame worthy, and eyther parte more readye to finde others faultes than to mende theyr own. For in reproche of them we be so studyous, that neyther good nor bad passeth vnreproued. If they be familier we call them light. If they be solitarye we call them fantas- tike. If they be sadde we cal them solemne. If they be merye, we call them madde. If thei be comprynable we call them vicious. If they bee holye, we call them ypocrites. If they kepe fewe seruauntes we call them nyggardes. If they kepe many we cal them pompouse. If alewde prieste doo a lewde dede, than we say : loe see what saum- ple the clergye geueth vs, as though that priest wer the clergye. But than forgeat we to looke what-good men be therein, & what good counsayle they geue vs, and what good ensample thei shewe vs. But we fare as doo the rauens and the carein crowes y 4 neuer medle with any quicke flesh. But where they may finde a dead dogge in a ditche, therto they flee and thereon they fede a pace. So where we see a good ma, and heare and see a good thyng, ther we take litle hede. But whan we se once an euil dede, theron we gape, therof we talk and fede our selfe al day with the fylthy delite of euil comu- nicacion. Let a good man preache, a shorte tale shall serue vs therof and we shal neither much regard his exhortacion nor his good exam¬ ples. But let a lewde freer bee taken wyth a wench, we will ieste and rayle vpon the whole order al the yere after, and say, lo what saple they geue vs. And yet whan we haue said, we wil folow y e same, & tha say y l we learned it of the, forgettyng y l we liste not to here & folowe some other, whose word & dede would geue vs light to do better if we listed as well to learne the better as to folow the worse. In dede quod he because ye speake of lighte, they say that if a woman be fayre, than is she yonge, & if a prieste bee good, than he is olde. But yet haue I sene a priest geuen lyghte to the people that was but verye yonge. Marve quod I God forbydde elles, ye maye see that often and ye wyll. Trewlye quod he it is pytye that we see suche MORE’S WORKS. 465 lyghte to sielde, beynge thys wretched worlde in suche darkenesse as it is. For I neuer sawe it but once. Nor as it seemed fewe of the people neyther. For in fayth they wondred as fast theron as though they had neuer sene it before. How happed that quoth I. Mary quod he it happed y* a yong priest very deuoutly ia processio bare a candel before y e crosse for lying w* a wenche, and bare it light all the longe way. Wherin the people tooke such spiritual pleasure and inwarde solace, that they laughed a pace. And one mery merchaunt sayd vnto the priestes y‘ folowed him. sic luceat lux vestra coram hominibus. Thus let your light shine afore the people. Forsooth quod I, it were pitie but that an euil priest wer punished. But yet it is as muche pitie that we take suche a wretched pleasure in the hearing of their sin, and in the sight of their shame.”— More’s Works, pp. 225-26. There is but one Shrew wife in the world, and every man thinks he has got her. “ I wold that we wer all in case with our own faultes, as my father saith that we bee with oure wyues. For whan he heareth folke blame wyues, & say that there bee so manye of them shrewes : he sayeth that they dyffame them falselye. For he sayth plainly y* there is but one shrewde wyfe in the worlde : but he sayth in dede that eueri ma weneth he hath her, & that that one is his owne. So would I fayne that euery man would wene ther were but one ma naught in al y e hole world, & that that one wer himselfe. And that he would therupon goe about to mend the one, and thus wold al waxe well : which thing we should shortly doe, if we wold once tourne oure wallette that I tolde you of, and the bagge with other folkes faultes cast at oure backe, and caste the bagge that bereth cur own faultes, cast it once before vs at our brest: it wold be a goodly brooche for vs to looke on our owne faultes another whyle.”— More’s Works, p. 233. What comes of being at Church when you ought to be at Bear-baiting. “ Of sayeng seruice quod I, this is much like as at Beuerlay late wha much of the people beyng at a bere baytyng, the church fell sodeinly down at euensonge tyme, and ouer whelmed some that than were in it: a good felow that after herde the tale tolde, lo quod he, now maie you see what it is to be at euensong whan ye should be at the bere baytynge. How be it the hurt was not ther in beinge at euensonge, but in that the churche was falsely wrought.”— More’s Works, p. 208. 4 66 EXTRACTS FROM MORE. Seeing is Believing. “ Mary sir quod he these witnes [the eyes] in dede will not lye. As the pore man sayed by the priest, if I may be homely to tel you a mery tale by the way. A mery tale quod I, commith neuer amysse to me. The pore man quod he had founde y e priest ouer famylier with his wife, and bycause he spake it a brode and coulde not proue it, the priest sued him before y e bishoppes offyciall for dyffamatyon, where the pore man vpon paine of cursynge, was commanded that in his paryshe chyrch, he should vpon y e sondaye, at high masse time stade vp & sai, mouth thou lyest. Wherupo for fulfillinge of hys penace, vp was the pore soule set in a pew, that y e peple might woder on him and hyre what he sayd. And there all a lowde (whan he had rehersydwhat he had reportyd by the prieste) than he sett his handys on his mouth, & said, mouth mouth thou lyest. And by and by thereupon he set his hand vpon both his eyen & sayd, but eyen eyen quoth he, by y e masse ye lye not a whitte.”— More’s Works, p. 127. Pride feels no pain. “ Now this wot 1 very well, that those that are walking aboute in thisbuisye mase, take not theyr buysines for anye tribulacion. And yet are there manye of them foreweryed, as sore & as sore panged, and payned therein, theyr plesures being so short, so little, and so fewe, -* and theyr displesures & their griefes so gret, so continuall, and so manye, that it maketh me thinke vpon a good woorshipfull man, which whe he diuers times beheld his wife, what payn she tooke in strayte binding vp her heere, to make her a fair large forehed, & with strayte bracing in her body, to make her midle smalle, both twayne to her gret payne, for the pryde of a little foolish prayse, he said vnto her : For¬ sooth madame, if God geue you not hell, he shall dooe you great wrong. For it must nedes bee youre owne of verye right : for you bye it verye dere, and take very great payne therfore.”— More’s Works, p. 1205. Praise of the People. <* For menne kepe stil in that point one condicion of children, that prayse must prick them forth.But oute of questyon, he that putteth hys pleasure in the prayse of the people, hath but a fonde fan- tasye. For yf his fynger dooe but ake of an hoate blaine, a greate manye mennes mouthes blowyng out his prayse, wyll scantly doe him among them all, half so muche ease, as to haue one boie blow vpon his finger.”— More’s Works, pp. 1223-24. a tnerg lest boto a sergeant tooulb leante to plage tlje Crete.