Lis. Pray don't make such tantalizing appeals to me! Proceed, proceed.
Lysand. Of this amiable and illustrious character I will only further observe that he possessed solid, good sense—unaffected and unshaken piety—a love towards the whole human race—and that he dignified his attachment to learning by the conscientious discharge of his duty towards God and man. He sleeps in peace beneath a monument, which has been consecrated by the tears of all who were related to him, and by the prayers of those who have been benefitted by his philanthropy.
Of Sir Thomas More,[296] where is the schoolboy that is ignorant? He was unquestionably, next to Erasmus, the most brilliant scholar of his age: while the precious biographical memoirs of him, which have luckily descended to us, place his character, in a domestic point of view, beyond that of all his contemporaries. Dr. Wordsworth[297] has well spoken of "the heavenly mindedness" of More: but how are bibliomaniacs justly to appreciate the classical lore, and incessantly-active book-pursuits,[298] of this scholar and martyr! How he soared "above his compeers!" How richly, singularly, and curiously, was his mind furnished! Wit, playfulness, elevation, and force—all these are distinguishable in his writings, if we except his polemical compositions; which latter, to speak in the gentlest terms, are wholly unworthy of his name. When More's head was severed from his body, virtue and piety exclaimed, in the language of Erasmus,—"He is dead: More, whose breast was purer than snow, whose genius was excellent above all his nation."[299]
Behold him going to execution—his beloved daughter
(Mrs. Roper) rushing through the guards, to take her last embrace.
[296] In the first volume of my edition of Sir Thomas More's Utopia, the reader will find an elaborate and faithful account of the biographical publications relating to this distinguished character, together with a copious Catalogue Raisonnè of the engraved portraits of him, and an analysis of his English works. It would be tedious to both the reader and author, here to repeat what has been before written of Sir Thomas More—whose memory lives in every cultivated bosom. Of this edition of the Utopia there appeared a flimsy and tart censure in the Edinburgh Review, by a critic, who, it was manifest, had never examined the volumes, and who, when he observes upon the fidelity of Bishop Burnet's translation of the original Latin of More, was resolved, from pure love of Whiggism, to defend an author at the expense of truth.
[297] I have read this newly published biographical memoir of Sir Thomas More: which contains nothing very new, or deserving of particular notice in this place.
[298] A bibliomanical anecdote here deserves to be recorded; as it shews how More's love of books had infected even those who came to seize upon him to carry him to the Tower, and to endeavour to inveigle him into treasonable expressions:—"While Sir Richard Southwell and Mr. Palmer were bussie in trussinge upp his bookes, Mr. Riche, pretending," &c.—"Whereupon Mr. Palmer, on his desposition, said, that he was soe bussie about the trussinge upp Sir Tho. Moore's bookes in a sacke, that he tooke no heed to there talke. Sir Richard Southwell likewise upon his disposition said, that because he was appoynted only to looke to the conveyance of his bookes, he gave noe ear unto them."—Gulielmi Roperi Vita D.T. Mori; edit Herne, p. 47, 51.
[299] Epistle Dedicatory to Ecclesiastes: quoted in that elegant and interesting quarto volume of the "Lives of British Statesmen," by the late Mr. Macdiarmid; p. 117.
How can I speak, with adequate justice, of the author of these words!—Yes, Erasmus!—in spite of thy timidity, and sometimes, almost servile compliances with the capricious whims of the great; in spite of thy delicate foibles, thou shalt always live in my memory; and dear to me shall be the possession of thy intellectual labours! No pen has yet done justice to thy life.[300] How I love to trace thee, in all thy bookish pursuits, from correcting the press of thy beloved Froben, to thy social meetings with Colet and More! You remember well, Lisardo,—we saw, in yonder room, a large paper copy of the fine Leyden edition of this great man's works! You opened it; and were struck with the variety—the solidity, as well as gaiety, of his productions.