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but to the fewness of the enemies whom he slays in gaining a victory. Criminals are generally punished with slavery, even for the greatest misdeeds, since servitude is no less terrible than death itself; and, by making slaves of malefactors, not only does the public get the benefit of their labour, but the continual sight of their misery is more effectual than their death to deter other men from crime. It is one of the oldest laws of the Utopians, that no man ought to be punished for his religion-‘it being a fundamental opinion among them, that a man cannot make himself believe anything he pleases; nor do they drive any to dissemble their thoughts by threatenings, so that men are not tempted to lie or disguise their opinions among them; which, being a sort of fraud, is abhorred by the Utopians.' Every man may endeavour to convert others to his views by the force of amicable and mo test argument, without bitterness against those of other opinions; but whoever adds reproach and violence to persuasion, is to be condemned to banishment or slavery. Such tolerant views were extremely rare in the days of Sir Thomas More, and in later life were lamentably departed from by himself in practice; for, in persecuting the Protestants, he displayed a degree of intolerance and severity which were strangely at variance both with the opinions of his youth and the general mildness of his disposition.

Sheep-masters Decayers of Husbandry-From Translation of ‘Utopia,' by Ralph Robinson, 1556

Your shepe that were wont to be so meke and tame, and so smal eaters, now, as I beure saye, be become so great deuowerers and so wylde, that they eate vp, and swallow downe, the very men themselves. They consume, destroye, and deuoure whole fieldes, howses, aud cities. For looke in what partes of the realme doth growe the fynest, and therfore dearest woll, there noblemen and gentlemen: yea, and certeyn abbotes, holy men no doubt, not contenting them selfes with the yearely renas and profytes, that were wont to grow to theyr forefathers and predecessours of their landes, nor beynge content that liue in rest and pleasure, nothing profiting, mach noyinge the weale publique: leave no ground for tillage, thei inclose al into pastures: thei throw doune houses: thei plucke doune tounes, and leaue nothing Staudynge, but only the churche to be made a shepehowse. And as thoughe you lostno small quantity of grounde by forestes, chases, laundes, and parkes, those good holy men turne all dwellinge places, and all glebcland, into desolation and wilde. Therfore that one couetous and vnsatiable cormaraunte and very plage of h's tyne contrey may compasse about and inclose many thousand akers of grounde gether within one pale or hedge, the husbandmen be thrust owte of their oune, or gether by coneyne and frande, or by violent oppression, they be put besydes it, or by wronges and injuries thei be so weried, that they be compelled to sell all: by one bos therfore or by other, either by hooke or crooke, they must needes departe swaye, poor selye, wretched soules, men, women, busbands, wines, fatherlesse chiloren, widowes, wofull mothers, with their yonge babes, and their whole household Final in substance, and much in numbre, as husbandrye requireth manye_handes. Awaye thei trudge, I say, out of ther knowen and accustomed houses, fyndynge no place to reste in. All their houshold stuffe, whiche is verye litle woorthe, thoughe it myght well abide the sale; yet beeynge sodainely thruste oute, they be constrayned to sell it for a thing of nought... They go aboute and worke not: whom no man wyl set a worke, though thei neuer so willyngly profre themselues therto. For one shephearde or heardman is ynoughe to eate vp that grounde with cattel, to the occupying wherof aboute husbandrye many handes were requisite. And this is also the

cause why victualles be now in many places dearer. Yea, besides this, the price of wolle is so rysen, that poor folkes, which were wont to work it, and make cloth therof, be nowe hable to bye none at all.

The Utopian Idea of Fleasure—From Bishop Burnet's Translation of the 'Utopia.'

They think it is an evidence of true wisdom for a man to pursue his own advantages as far as the laws allow it. They account it piety to prefer the public good to one's private concerns. But they think it unjust for a man to seek for his own pleasure, by snatching another man's pleasures from him. And, on the contrary, they think it a sign of a gentle and good soul for a man to dispense with his own advantage for the good of others; and that, by so doing, a good man finds as much pleasure one way as he parts with another; for, as he may expect the like from others when he may come to need it, so, if that should fail him, yet the sense of a good action, and the reflections that one makes on the love and gratitude of those whom he has so obliged, give the mind more pleasure than the body could have found in that from which it had restrained itself. They are also persuaded that God will make up the loss of those small pleasures with a vast and endless joy, of which religion docs easily convince a good soul. Thus, upon an inquiry into the whole matter, they reckon that all our actions, and even all our virtues, terminate in pleasure, as in our chief end and greatest happiness; and they call every motion or state, either of body or mind, in which nature teaches us to delight, a pleasure. And thus they cautiously limit pleasure only to those appetites to which nature leads us; for they reckon that nature leads us only to those delights to which reason as well as sense carries us, and by which we neither injure any other person, nor let go greater pleasures for it, and which do not draw troubles on us after them; but they look upon those delights which men, by a foolish though common mistake, call pleasure, as if they could change the nature of things, as well as the use of words, as things that not only do not advance our happiness, but do rather obstruct it very much, because they do so entirely possess the minds of those that once go into them with a false notion of pleasure, that there is no room left for truer and purer pleasures.

But of all pleasures, they esteem those to be the most valuable that lie in the mind; and the chief of these are those that arise out of true virtue, and the witness of a good conscience. They account health the chief pleasure that belongs to the body; for they think that the pleasure of eating and drinking, and all the other delights of the body, are ouly so far desirable as they give or maintain health. But they are not pleasant in themselves, otherwise than as they resist those impressions that our natural infirmity is still making upon us; and, as a wise man desires rather to avoid diseases than to take physic, and to be freed from pain rather than to find ease by remedies, so it were a more desirable state not to need this sort of pleasure, than to be obliged to indulge it. And if any man imagines that there is a real happiness in this pleasure, he must then confess that he would be the happiest of all men, if he were to lead his life in a perpetual hunger, thirst, and itching, and by consequence in perpetual eating, drinking, and scratching himself, which, any one may easily see, would be not only a base but a miserable state of life. These are, indeed, the lowest of pleasures, and the least pure; for we can never relish them but when they are mixed with the contrary pains. The pain of hunger must give us the pleasure of eating; and here the pain outbalances the pleasure; and, as the pain is more vehement, so it lasts much longer; for, as it is upon us before the pleasure comes, so it does not cease, but with the pleasure that extinguishes it, and that goes off with it; so that they think none of those pleasures are to be valued, but as they are necessary. Yet they rejoice in them, and with due gratitude acknowledge the tenderness of the great Author of nature, who has planted in us appetites by which those things that are necessary for our preservation are likewise made pleasant to us. For how misernble a thing would life be, if those daily diseases of hunger and thirst were to be carried off by such bitter drugs as we must use for those diseases that return seldomer upon us! And thus these pleasant, as well as proper, gifts of nature do maintain the strength and the sprightliness of our bodies.

Character of Richard III.

Richarde, the thirde sonue of Richarde, Duke of York, was in witte and courage egall with his two brothers, in bodye and prowesse farre vnder them bothe; little of slature, ill fetured of limmes, croke backed, his left shoulder much higher than his right, hard fanoured of visage, and such as is in states called warlye, in other menne otherwise, he was malicious, wrathfull, enuious, and from afore his birth, ener frowarde. None euill captaine was hee in the warre, as to whiche his disposicion was more metely then for peace. Sundrye victories hadde hee, and sometime ouerthrowes, but neuer in defaulte as for his owne parsone, either of hardinesse or polytike order, free was hee called of dyspence, and somewhat aboue hys power libcrali, with large giftes hee get him vustedfaste frendeshippe, for whiche he was fain to pil and spoyle in other places, and get him stedfaste hatred. Hee was close and secrete, a deepe dissimuler, lowlye of counteynance, arrogant of heart, outwardly coumpinable where he inwardely hated, not letting to kisse whome hee thought to kyll: dispitious and cruell, not for euill will alway, but after for ambicion, and either for the suretie or encrease of his estate. Frende and foo was muche what indifferent, where his aduantage grew; he spared no mans deathe, whose life withstoode his purpose. He slewe with his owne handes king Henry the sixt, being prisoner in the Tower, as menne constantly saye, and that without commaundement or knowledge of the king, whiche would vndoubtedly yf he had entended that thinge, haue appointed that boocherly office to some other then his owne borne brother.

Letter to Lady More.

Returning from the negotiations at Cambray, Sir Thomas More heard that his barns and some of those of his neighbours' had been burned down; he consequently wrote the following letter to his wife. Its gentleness to a sour-tempered woman, and the benevolent feelings expressed about the property of his neighbours, have been much admired. We have modernised the spelling:

Mistress Alice, in my most heartywise I recommend me to you. And whereas I am informed by my son Heron of the loss of our barns and our neighbours' also, with all the corn that was therein; albeit (saving God's pleasure) it is great pity of so much good corn lost, yet sith it hath liked him to send us such a chance, we must and are bounden, not only to be content, but also to be glad of his visitation. He sent us all that we have lost; and sith he hath by such a chance taken it away again, his pleasure be fulfilled! Let us never grudge thereat, but take it in good worth, and heartily thank him, as well for adversity as for prosperity. And poradventure we have more cause to thank him for our loss than for our winning, for his wisdom better seeth what is good for us than we do ourselves. Therefore, I pray you be of good cheer, and take all the household with you to church, and there thank God, both for that lie has given us, and for that he has taken from us, and for that he hath left us; which, if it please him, he can increase when he will. And if it please him to leave us yet less, at his pleasure be it!

I pray you to make some good cnscarch what my roor neighbours have lost, and bid them take no thought therefore; for, if I should not leave myself a spoon, there shall no poor neighbour of mine bear no loss by any chance happened in my house. I pray you be, with my children and your household, merry in God; and devise somewhat with your friends what way were best to take, for provision to be made for corn for our household, and for seed this year coming, if we think it good that we keep the ground still in our hands. And whether we think it good that we so shall do or not, yet I think it were not best suddenly thus to leave it all up, and to put away our folk off our farm, till we have somewhat advised us thereon. Howbeit, if we have more now than ye shall need, and which can get them other masters, ye may then discharge us of them. But I would not that any man were suddenly sent away, he wot not whither.

At my coming hither, I perceived none other but that I should tarry still with the king's grace. But now I shall, I think, because of this chance, get leave this next week to come home and see you, and then shall we further devise together upon all things, what order shall be best to take.

And thus as heartily fare you well, with all our children, as ye can wish. At Woodstock, the third day or September [1528], by the hand of your loving husband, THOMAS MORE, Knight.

Act of Parliament in Favour of Husbandry.

The following Act, 25th of Henry VIII. (1553), illustrates what was said regarding husbandry by Sir Thomas More, and is a specimen of the English of the riod:

Whereas divers and sundry persons of the king's subjects of this realm, to whom God of his goodness hath disposed great plenty and abundance of movable substance, now of late, within few years, have daily studied, practised, and invented ways and means how they might accumulate and gather together into few hands, as well great multitude of farms as great plenty of cattle, and in especial, sheep, putting sch lands as they can get to pasture, and not to tillage; whereby they have not only pulled down churches and towns, and enhanced the old rates of the rents of the posSessions of this realm, or else brought it to such excessive fines that no poor man is able to meddle with it, but also have raised en 1 enhanced the prices of all manner of corn, cattle, wool, pigs, geesc, hens, chickens, eggs, and such other commodities, almost double above the price which hath been accustomed, by reason whereof a marvellous multitude of the poor people of this realm be not able to provide meat, drink, and clothes necessary for themselves, their wives, and children, but be so discouraged with misery and poverty, that they fall daily theft, robbery, and other inconveniences, or pitifully die for hunger or cold; and it is thought by the king's humble and loving subjects that one of the greatest occasions that moveth those greedy and covetous people so to accumulate and keep in their hands such great portions and parts of the lands of this realm from the occupying of the poor husbandmen, and so to use it in pasture and not in tillage, is the great profit that cometh of sheep which be now come into a few persons' hands, in respect of the whole number of the king's subjects, it is hereby enacted, that no person shall have or keep on lands not their own inheritance more than two thousand sheep; that no person shall occupy more than twe farins; and that the 19th of the 4th of Henry VII., and those other acts obliging the lords of the fees to do their duty, shall be re-enacted and enforced.

JOHN FISHER.

FISHER, BISHOP OF ROCHESTER (1459-1535), was chiefly distinguished by writings in Latin against the Lutheran doctrines. He was a steadfast adherent of the Church of Rome, and his name is tarnished with some severities, but we have the testimony of Erasmus that he possessed many of the best points of human character. He steadily refused translation to a more valuable bishopric, and he finally laid down his life, along with Sir Thomas More, in a conscientious adherence to the principle of the validity of the nuptials of Queen Katharine. While in the Tower the pope acknowledged his worth and consistency by the gift of a cardinal's hat, which drew from Henry the brutal remark: 'Well, let the pope send him a hat when he will; mother of God! he shall wear it on his shoulders, then, for I will leave him never a head to set it on! The English writings of Bishop Fisher consist of sermons, and a few small religious tracts, printed in one volume at Würzburg in 1595. One of the sermons was a funeral one, preached in 1509, in honour of the Countess of Richmond (mother of Henry VII.), whose chaplain he had been. In it he presents a remarkable portraiture of a pious lady of rank of that age, with a curious detail of the habits then thought essential to a religious

gentlewoman. He praises her nobleness of person, manners, nature, and lineage, and adds some details of her daily life.

Habits of a Pious Lady of Rank in the Reign of Henry VII.

Her sober temperance in meats and drinks was known to all them that were conversant with her, wherein she lay in as great weight of herself as any person might, keeping alway her strait measure, and offending as little as any creature might: eschewing banquets, rere-suppers, (1) juiceries betwixt meals. As for fasting,

for age and feebleness, albeit she were not bound, yet those days that by the church were appointed, she kept them diligently and seriously, and in especial the holy Lent throughout, that she restrained her appetite till one meal of fish on the day; besides her other peculiar fasts of devotion, as St. Anthony, St. Mary Magdalene, St. Catharine, with other; and throweout all the year, the Friday and Saturday she full truly observed. As to hard clothes wearing, she had her shirts and girdles of hair, which, when he was in health, every week she failed not certain days to wear, sometime the one, sometime the other, that full often her skin, as I heard her say, was pierced therewith... In prayer, every day at her uprising, which commonly was not long after five of the clock, she began certain devotions, and so after them, with one of her gentle vonen, the matins of our lady, then she came into her closet, where then with her chaplain she said also matins of the day; and after that daily heard four or five masses upon her knees; so continuing in her prayers and devotions unto the hour of dinner, which of the eating-day was ten of the clock, and upon the fasting-day eleven. After dier full truly she would go her stations to three altars daily; daily her dirges and con.mendations she would say, and her even-songs before supper, both of the day and of car lady, beside many other prayers and psalters of David throughout the year; and at night before she went to bed, she failed not to resort unto her chapel, and there a large quarter of an hour to occupy her devotions. No marvel, though all this long time her kneeling was to her painful, and so painful that many times it caused in her back pain and disease. And yet nevertheless, daily when she was in health, she faid not to say the crown of our lady, which after the manner of Rome containeth six ty and three aves, and at every ave to make a kneeling. As for meditation, she had divers books in French, wherewith she would occupy herself when she was weary of prayer. Wherefore divers she did translate out of the French into English. Her marvellous weeping they can bear witness of, which here before have heard her confession, which be divers and many, and at many seasons in the year, lightly every third day. Can also record the same tho that were present at any time when she was hoshilde, (2) which was full nigh a dozen times every year, what floods of tears there is,ned forth of her eyes!

SIR THOMAS ELYOT-BISHOP LATIMER.

SIR THOMAS ELYOT, an eminent physician of the reign of Henry VIII., by whom he was employed in several embassies, was the author of a popular professional work, entitled 'The Castle of Health,' in which many sound precepts are delivered with respect to diet and regimen. Of his other productions, one, 'The Governor,' is devoted chiefly to the subject of education. He recommends, as Montaigne and Locke subsequently did, that children be taught to speak Latin from their infancy; and he deprecates cruel and yrous, or irascible schoolmasters, by whom the wits of children be dulled, whereof we need no better author to witness than daily experience.' Mr. Hallam observes, in reference to this passage, that all testimonies concur as to this savage ill-treatment of boys in the schools of that period. The fierceness of the Tudor government, the religious intolerance, the polemicalrutality, the rigorous justice, when justice it was, of our 1 Second suppers. When supper took place at four or five o'clock, it was not uncomon, on festive occasions, t have a second served up at a later hour. 2 Received the sacrame of the Lord's Supper.

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