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as riotous and drunken, do not proceed to the vulgarity we read of in Eschylus and Sophocles, with an exception only, that one of them throws the foot of an ox woda pocov at the head of Ulysses."

"The heroes sat at table, and were not reclined on couches, as Douris represents to have been the custom in the time of Alexander the Great. This prince, giving an entertainment to four hundred officers of his army, made them sit on chairs and couches of silver, covered with purple cushions. Tegesander writes, that it was not the custom for any one in Macedonia to recline on couches at their meals, who had not killed a wild boar beyond the toils; and that Cassander, though he was thirty-five years old, always sat at his father's table, because he had not achieved this exploit, notwithstanding his skill and agility in hunting."

"Homer, always attentive to decorum, makes his heroes dress their own food. Ulysses was an excellent carver, and unrivalled in the art of making a fire; Patroclus and Achilles put their hands to every thing. At the feast by Menelaus for Megapenthes, the young bridegroom pours out the wine for the guests.

"But we are so fallen off from these good old customs, that we luxuriously recline upon our couches."

"Baths, too, are become common, whereas formerly they were not per mitted within the precincts of the city."

Homer, who knew well the nature of pertumes, does not allow them to any of his heroes, except Paris."

"It is to be observed, that in the Odyssey, Ulysses washes his hands before he eats. This the heroes of the Iliad never do. The Odyssey is the quiet picture of the private life of persons, whom peace had accustomed to luxurious indulgence."

NOTICES OF REPRINTS OF CURIOUS OLD BOOKS.

No III.

The Life of Sir Thomas More; by his Son-in-Law, WILLIAM ROPER, Esq. Chiswick, Whittingham. 1817.

MR SINGER, already well known, by any excellent works, to the students

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of our ancient literature, has lately published, at Chiswick, a truly exquisite reprint of what he himself justly calls one of the most beautifully simple and impressive specimens of biographical writing to be found in our own or any other language."

We know not that there is any feature in the literary character of the age which delights us more heartily, than the returning affection manifested in every direction by our educated countrymen for those old English books, which, although utterly neglected and despised by our literati of the last century, cannot fail to go down to the most distant generations, and to be prized, wherever they shall be read, by wise and good men, as containing the portraits, and opinions, and histories, of the most truly venerable and noble set of worthies which Christian Europe has ever had the glory to produce. Of these worthies, one of the chief was that Thomas More, the memory of whose genius and virtue can never die, so long as England deserves to keep her name. His "angelicall witt,' as his son-in-law calls it, has embodied itself in works not much to the taste of our time. But it would be indeed a bad sign of this, or of any age, to contemplate, otherwise than with an ardent and reverent interest, the memorials of his personal character-the simplicity-the innocent cheerfulness-the manly unbending integrity-the piety, pure and primitive, scarcely deformed by its small tincture of Catholic superstition-the heroic death, finally, of this martyr to principle, "cui pectus," as his friend Erasmus has expressed it, erat omni nive candidius."

The only objection we have to make to the present edition of Roper's Life of this great and good man, arises out of its extreme beauty, and consequent high price. It would perhaps be too much to blame the elegant scholar, to whom we are indebted for the book, for having done every thing he thought most likely to make the book acceptable to that portion of the public for whom almost all books are in our time published. But we wish, on many accounts, that some person or persons, disposed to confer a benefit upon a yet more extensive circle of readers, would give another reprint of the same work in a form as simple and cheap as possible. Books like this

should not be allowed to remain in the hands of those alone, who can afford to pay a large price for a small pocket volume. They should be circulated as widely as coarse paper and plain types can enable them to be. They should be the manuals of youth; they could not fail to be the comfort and delight of the pious and the aged.

It is not, we confess, without some emotions of pain, that we observe into what miserable direction a great portion of the charity of this country has fallen, we allude, in particular, to those institutions whose professed purpose it is to promote the moral and religious welfare of our own poorer countrymen by the distribution of tracts. The active management of the funds of these institutions has, it would appear, fallen, in a vast number of instances, into the hands of a set of persons, who, however good may be their intentions, are in no respect qualified to be the instructors, or to superintend the instruction of others. These good people inundate the country with a vast quantity of the most execrable trash that ever disgraced the press of any enlightened land, under the name of cheap tracts. Whether it be that the conceit of the directors of these institutions commonly leads them to suppose that it is their duty to write as well as to distribute, we know not; but it is certain, that the works they do distribute are the most abominable outrages upon good taste and good sense, and, in not a few instances, upon sound religion also, which have ever happened to come under our inspection. Vulgar, drivelling, absurd histories of the imaginary conversions of unreal milkmaids, boatswains, drummers, pedlars, and pickpockets; drawling, nauseous narratives of the gossipings and whinings of religious midwives and nurses, and of children two or three years old already" under concern"-sickening hymns composed by blacksmiths and brewers, in whom poetry and piety have been twin-births ;-horrible and blasphemous stories of sudden judgments upon card-players and beerdrinkers, &c. &c. &c.;-such are the greater part of the mystic leaves which those doting sybils, the tract societies, are perpetually dispersing over the surface of a justly thankless land.-When we reflect on the vast body of most interesting and instructive

biographical sketches contained in the works of our old English authors, particularly the church historians and other ecclesiastical writers, we cannot, without sorrow, and some little anger too, see funds which might do so much good, condemned to do so little. We speak, in this matter, more with an eye to England than Scotland; for here so universally is education diffused, so intimately are our peasantry acquainted with the Pilgrim's Progress, and the rude but striking histories of the covenanting period,-but, above all, so intensely familiar are they with the Bible, that they cannot endure to see the ore of religion served up with the base alloy of these tract-mongers. They keep to their old manuals, and allow the flimsy presents of the itinerant illuminators to blow where they list.-But to return to our text.

The main incidents in Sir Thomas More's life are so well known, that those who read the present tract for the first time, need not expect to acquire much new information in regard to them. But they may expect something much more valuable,- -a complete view of the detail of his life,-a domestic and intimate acquaintance with the manners of the man. The book is written by the son-in-law of More, who seems, according to the primitive fashion of the times, not to have withdrawn his wife, on his marriage, from her father's house, but to have established himself there with her as an additional inmate of that patriarchal dwelling. We have no intention to analyze his narrative, but we shall enrich our pages with a few of the most interesting passages. The exquisite beauty of the style may be felt; it is not capable of being described, any more than it is of being imitated, by a writer of these degenerate days. Our language, rich and powerful as it is, has lost at least as much as it has gained within the last two centuries.

"At this Parliament Cardinall Wolsey founde himselfe muche greived with the Burgesses thearof for that nothinge was soe soone donne or spoken thearin but that it was immediatelye blowne abroad in everie alehouse. It fortuned at that Parliament a verie great subsidie to be demanded, which Common house determined for the furtherthe Cardinall fearinge would not passe the ance thearof to be personallie theare himselfe. Before whose comminge after longe debatinge theare, whither it weare better but

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with a fewe of his Lords, as the most opinions of the house was, or with his whole traine to receave him theare amongst them: Masters, quoth Sir Thomas More, forasmuche as my Lord Cardinall latelic laied to our charges the lightnes of our tonges for things uttered out of this house, it shall not in my minde be amisse to receave him with all his pompe, with his maces, his pillers, pollaxes, his crosses, his hatt and the greate seale too; to th'intent that if he finde the like fault with us heerafter, wee maie be the bolder from ourselves to laie the blame on those that his Grace bringeth hither with him.' Whearunto the house agreeinge, he was receaved accordinglie. Wheare after that he had in a solemne oration by manie reasons proved how necessarie it was the demande theare moved to be graunted, and further shewed that lesse woulde not serve to maintaine the Prince's purpose, He seeinge the companie sittinge still silent and thearunto nothinge answearinge, contrarye to his expectation shewinge in themselves towardes his request noe towardnes of inclinacion, saied unto them, Masters, you have many wise and learned men amongst you, and since I am from the Kinge's owne person sent hither unto you for the preservacion of your selves and all the Realme, I thinke it meete you give me some reasonable answeare." Wheareat everie man holdinge his peace, then beganne he to speake to one Mr Marney, afterward Lord Marney, How saie you, quothe hee, Mr Marney? who makinge him noe answeare neyther, he severallie asked the same question of diverse other accompted the wisest of the companye, to whome when none of them all would give so muche as one worde, being agreed before, as the custome was, to answeare by their Speaker, Masters, quoth the Cardinall, unlesse it be the manner of your house, as of likelihood it is, by the mouthe of your Speaker whome you have chosen for trustie and wise, (as indeed he is) in such cases to utter your mindes, heere is without doubt a marvellous obstinate silence,' and thearupon he required answeare of Mr Speaker. Who first reverentlie on his knees excusinge the silence of the house, abashed at the presence of so noble a personage able to amaze the wisest and best learn'd in a Realme, and after by many probable arguments provinge that for them to make answeare it was neyther expedient nor agreeable with the auntient libertie of the house; in conclusion for himselfe shewed that though they had all with their voices trusted him, yet except everic one of them could put into his head of their severall witts, he alone in soe weigh

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Every cardinal of the Roman church has a pillar of silver carried before him as an emblem of his being a pillar of the church. But Wolsey out of his love of pomp and splendor had two born before him.-Lewis.

tie a matter was unfit to make his Grace answeare. Whearuppon the Cardinall, displeased with Sir Thomas More, that had not in this Parliament in all things satisfied his desire, suddenlie arose and departed.

"And after the Parliament ended, in his gallerie at White hall at Westminster [he] uttered unto him his griefes, sayeinge: Would to God you had binne at Rome, Mr More, when I made you Speaker." Your Grace not offended soe would I too," quoth Sir Thomas More. And to winde suche quarrells out of the Cardinall's head, he beganne to talke of the gallerie, sayeinge, I like this gallerie of yours muche better then your gallerie at Hampton-Court. Whearwith soe wisclic broke he off the Cardinal's displeasant talke, that the Cardinall at that present, as it seemed, wist not what more to saie unto him".

"Suche entire favour did the Kinge beare him, that he made hime Chauncellor of the Duchie of Lancaster uppon the deathe of Sir Richard Wingfield who had that office before. And for the pleasure he tooke in his companie would his Grace suddenlie sometimes come home to his house at Chelsey to be merry with him, Whither, on a time, unlooked for he came to dinner, and after dinner, in a faire garden of his, walked with him by the space of an howre, holdinge his arme about his necke. As soone as his Grace was gone, I rejoy cinge thearat, saide to Sir Thomas More, how happie he was whome the Kinge had soe familliarlie entertained, as I never had seene him doe to any other, except Cardinall Wolsey, whome I sawe his Grace walke once with arme in arme. I thanke our Lord, sonne, (quoth he) I finde his Grace my very good Lord indeed, and I beleive he dothe as singularlie favor me as anye subject within this Realme: howbeit, sonne Roper, I maie tell thee, I have no cause to be prowde thearof, for if my head would winne him a castle in Fraunce (for then was theare warres beetwixt us) it should not faile to goe."

"As Sir Thomas More's custome was dailie (if he weare at home) besides his† private praiers with his children, to saie the seaven psalmes, the Lettanie, and the Suffrages followeinge, so was his guise nightlie before he went to bed, with his wife, children and houshold, to goe to his chappell, and theare on his knees ordinarily to saie certaine psalmes and collects with them. And because he was desirous for godlie purposes, solitarie to sequester himselfe from

Cardinalis dum viveret Moro parum æquus erat, cumqué metuebat verius quam amabat.-Erasmi Epist.

+ Habet suas horas quibus Deo litet precibus, non ex more, sed ex pectore depromptis.-Erasmi Epist.

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worldlie companie, a good distance from his house builded he a place called the newebuildinge, whearin was a Chappell, a Librarie, and a Gallerye, in which, as his use was on other daies to occupie himselfe in prayer and studie theare together, soe on the Fridaies used he continuallie to be theare from morninge to night, spendinge his time erbie in devout praiers and spirituall exereises. And to provoake his wife and children to the desier of heavenlie thinges, he would sometimes use these wordes unto them. It is now noe maistrie for children to goe to heaven, for everie body givethe you good counsaile, everie body giveth you good example. You see virtue rewardel and vice punished, soe that you are carried up to heaven even by the chinnes. But if you live in the time that noe man will give you good counsaile, noe man will give you good example, when you shall see virte punished and vice rewarded, if you will then stande fast and firmelie sticke to God appon paine of life, though you be but halfe good, God will allow you for whole good.' If his wife or anie of his children had binne diseased or troubled, he would saie unto them; We maie not looke, at our pleasures, to go to heaven in featherbeds, it is not the way; for the Lord himselfe went thither with great paine, by many tribulacions, which was the pathe whearin he walked thither, for the servant maie not looke to be in better case then his Master.' And as he would in this sort perswade them to take their troubles patientlie, soe would he in like sort teache them to withstand the Divill and his temptacions valiantly, sayeinge, Whosoever will marke the Divill and his temptacions, shall finde him thearin much like to ane ape, who not well looked to will be busie and bold to do shrewde turnes, and contrariwise beinge spyede will suddainelie leape backe and adventure noe farther. Soe the Divill findinge a man idle, sloathfull, and without resistance readie to receave his temptacions, waxethe soe hardie that he will not faile still to continewe with

him, untill to his purpose he have throughlie brought him. But on the other side if he see a man with dilligence persevere to withstand his tempacions, he waxethe so wearie that in conclusion he utterlie forsaketh him. For as the Divill of disposition is a spirit of soe high pride as he cannot abide to be mocked, soe is he of nature soe envious, that he fearethe anie more to assault him, least

he should thearbie not onlie catche a foule

fall himselfe, but also should minister to the man more matter of merit.' Thus delighted he evermore not only in vertuous exercises to be occupied himselfe, but alsoe to exhort his wife, children, and housholde, to embrace the same and followe it."

Cum amicis sic fabulatur de vita futuri seculi, ut agnoscas illum ex animo loqui, noc sine optima spe.-Erasmi Epist.

"This Lord Chauncellor used commonlie everie afternoone to sit in his open hall, to the intent that if any person had any suit unto him, they might the more boldlie come to his presence and then open their complaints before him. Whose manner was alsoe to reade everie bill himselfe, before he would award any Sub-poena, which being matter worthie of Sub-pana, he would set his hande unto or else cancell it. Whensoever he passed through Westminster-Hall to his place in the Chauncery by the Court of the King's Bench, if his Father (beinge one of the Judges therof) had binne satt ere he came, he would goe into the same Court, and theare reverentlie kneelinge downe in the sight of them all dulie aske his Father's blessinge. And if it fortuned that his Father and he at Readings in Lincolnes Inne met together, (as they sometimes did) notwithstandinge his high office he would offer in argument the preeminence to his Father, though he for his office sake would refuse to take it. And for better declaration of his naturall affections towards his Father, he not onelie, while he laye on his deathe bedd, accordinge to his dutie, oftentimes with comfortable wordes most kindlie came to visit him, but also at his departure out of this world, with teares takeinge him about the necke, most lovingelie kissed and embraced him, commendinge him into the hands of almightie God, and soe departed from him."

The reader will recollect that More resigned the Chancellorship on account of his resolution not to assist Henry in viz. the divorce from Queen Katharine. "his great matter," as Roper calls it,

"After he had thus given over the Chauncellorship, and placed all his gentlemen and yeomen with noblemen and byshops, and his 8 watermen with the Lord him, to whome alsoe he gave his great Audley, that in the same office succeeded barge; then callinge us all that weare his children to him, and askinge our advise how (by the surrender of his office soe impaired, we might now in this decay of his abilitie, that he could not, as he was wont and gladlie would, beare out the whole chardges of them all himselfe,) thenceforthe be able to live and continew together, as he wished we should; when he sawe us silent, and in that him, then will I, said he, shewe my poore case not readie to shewe our opinions unto quoth he, at Oxford, at an Inne of the minde to you. I have been brought up, Chauncery, at Lincolne's Inne, and alsoe in the King's Court, and so from the least degree to the highest, and yet have I in little above a hundred powndes by the yeere. yeerlie revennues at this present leaft me Soe that now must we heerafter, if we like to live together, be contented to become contributors together. But by my counsaile it shall not be best for us to fall to the lowest fare first; we will not therfore descend to Oxford-fare, nor to the fare of New-Inne;

but wee will beginne with Lincolne's-Inn diet, wheare manie Right Worshipfulls and of good yeeres doe live full well together. Which, if we finde not our selves able to maintaine the first yeere, then will we the next yeere goe one step downe to New-Inne

fare, whearwith many an honest man is well contented. If that exceed our abilitie too, then we will the next yeare after descend to Oxford-fare, wheare many grave, learned and auntient fathers be continuallie conversant. Which if our power stretche not to mainteine neither, then maie wee yet with baggs and wallets goe a begginge together, and, hopinge that for pittie some good folkes will give us their charitie, at everie man's dore to singe Salve Regina, and soe still keepe companie and be merrie together. And whearas you have heard before he was by the Kinge from a verie worshipfull livinge taken into his service, with whome, in all the great and weightie causes that concearned his Highness or the Realme, he consumed and spent with painful cares, travailes and troubles, as well beyond the seas as within the Realme, in effect, the whole substance of his life, yet with all the gaine he got thearby, beinge never wastfull splendour thearof, he was not able, after the resignacion of his office of the Lord Chauncellour, for the maintenance of himselfe and suche as necessarilie belonged unto him, sufficientlie to finde meat, drinke, fewell and apparrell, and such other necessarie chardges. All the land that ever he purchased (which also he purchased before he was Lord Chauncellor) was not, I am well assured, above the valewe of 20 markes by the yeere : and, after his debts paied, he had not, I knowe, (his chaine excepted) in gould and silver leaft him the worthe of of one hundred pownds. And whearas uppon the holie daies, duringe his high Chauncellorship, one of his gentlemen, when service at the Churche was donne, ordinarilie used to come to my Ladie his wife's pewe dore, and saie nnto her, Madam, my Lord is gone; the next holidaie after the surrender of his office and departure of his gentlemen from him, he came unto my Ladie his wife's pewe himselfe, and makinge a lowe courtesie, said unto her, Madam, my Lord is gone. [But she, thinking this at first to be but one of his jests, was little moved, till he told her sadly he had given up the great seale. Whearuppon she speaking some passionate words, he called his daughters then present to see if they could not spy some fault about their mother's dressing; but they, after search, saying they could find none: hee replied, doe you not perceive that your mother's nose standeth somewhat awry? Of which

Tyndall forbiddeth folk to pray to the Virgin Mary, and specially misliketh her devout anthem Salve Regina.--More's English Works, p. 488, col. 2.

jeere the provoked Lady was so sensible that she went from him in a rage."]

His unwillingness to acknowledge, by his oath, the ecclesiastical authority, which Henry, in consequence of his quarrel with the court of Rome, assumed to himself, was made the pretence for sacrificing More to the heartless and unfeigning tyrant, whom his probity had already irremediably offended.

"As Sir Thomas More in the Tower chaunced on a time lookinge out of his windowe to behold one Mr Raynolds, a religious, learned, and virtuous Father of Syon, and 3 Monkes of the Charter-house for the matter of the supremacy and matrimony goinge out of the Tower to execucion, he as one longinge in that journey to have accom panied them, saide unto my wife then standing theare besides him, 'Loe doest thow not see, Meg, that these blessed fathers be now as cheerfullie goinge to their deathes, as bridegroomes to their marriages. Wherfore thearby maiest thow see, myne owne good daughter, what a great difference there is betweene such as have in effect spent all their daies in a streight and penitentiall and painfull life religiouslie, and suche as have in the world, like worldlie wretches, (as thy poore father hath donne) consumed all their time in pleasure and ease licentiouslie. For God, consideringe thair longe continued life in most sore and greivous pennance, will noe longer suffer them to remaine heere in this vale of miserie, but speedilie hence taketh them to the fruition of his everlastinge Deitie. Whearas thy sillie father, Megg, that like a wicked caitiffe, hath passed forthe the whole course of his miserable life most sinfullie, God, thinkinge him not worthie so soone to come to that eternall felicitie, leavethe him heere yet still in this world, further to be plagued and turmoiled with miserie."'

"When Sir Thomas More had continued a good while in the Tower, my ladye his wife obteyned license to see him. Who, at her first comminge, like a simple woman, and somewhat worldlie too, with this manner of salutacion homelie saluted him. ، What a good-yeere, Mr More, quoth she, I marvaile that you that hitherto have binne taken for so wise a man, will now soe plaie the foole to lie heere in this close filthie prison, and be content thus to be shutt up amonge mise and ratts, when you might be abroad at your libertie, and with the favour and good will bothe of the King and his Counsaile, if you would but doe as all the bishops and best-learned of this realme have done. And seeing you have at Chelsey a right faire house, your librarie, your bookes, your gallerie, your garden, your orchard, and all other necessaries soe handsome about you, wheare you might in the companie of me your wife, your children, and household,

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