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WILLIAM CAXTON, celebrated as the first who introduced printing into England, was born in Kent about 1412, and died in 1492.

"Exclusively of the labours attached to the working of his press as a new art, our typographer contrived, though well stricken in years, to translate not fewer than five thousand closely-printed folio pages. As a translator, therefore, he ranks among the most laborious, and, I would hope, not the least successful, of his tribe.

"The foregoing conclusion is the result of a careful enumeration of all the books translated as well as printed by him; which [the translated books], if published in the modern fashion, would extend to nearly twenty-five octavo volumes.”— DIBDIN: Typographical Antiquities.

have withdraw him fro to do well. . . . He was ennobled in his life by many miracles. ... And the very death, which is to all men horrible and hateful, he admonished and admonished death to come to him, and them to praise it. And, also, he warned said, "Death, my sister, welcome be to you." And when he came at the last hour, he slept in our Lord, of whom the friar saw the soul, in manner of a star, like to the moon in quantity, and the sun in clearness.

JOHN FISHER,

born 1459, Margaret Professor of Divinity 1502, Bishop of Rochester 1504, was inhumanly executed by order of the tyrant Henry VIII. in 1535.

"Caxton, Mr. Warton [History of English Poetry] observes, by translating, or procuring to be translated, a great number of books from the French, greatly contributed to promote the state of literature in England. It was only in this way that he could introduce his countrymen to the knowledge of many valuable publications at a time when an acquaintance with the learned languages was confined to a few ecclesiastics. Ancient learn-haved himself with so much wisdom and goodness ing had as yet made too little progress among us to encourage him to publish the Roman authors in their original tongue. Indeed, had not the French furnished Caxton with materials, it is not probable that Virgil, Ovid, Cicero, and many other good writers, would, by the means of his press, have been circulated in the English language as early as the close of the fifteenth century."-CHALMERS: Biog. Dict., viii. 512. See, also, The Life and Typography of William Caxton, England's "First Printer," etc., by William Blades, Lond., 1861-63, 2 vols. 4to; and How to Tell a Caxton, by W. Blades, 1870, fp. 8vo.

"The fame of his learning and virtues reaching the ears of Margaret, Countess of Richmond, mother of Henry VII., she chose him her chaplain and confessor; in which high station be bethat she committed herself entirely to his government and direction. It was by his counsel that she undertook those magnificent foundations of St. John's and Christ's Colleges at Cambridge; established the divinity professorships in both universities; and did many other acts of generosity for the propagation of learning and piety. .. The issue was a declaration from Fisher that he would swear to the succession [of Elizabeth]; never dispute more about the marriage [to Anne Boleyn]; and promise allegiance to the king; but his conscience could not be convinced that the marriage was not against the law of God.' These concessions did not satisfy the king; who was re

FROM CAXTON'S TRANSLATION OF THE GOLDEN solved to let all his subjects see that there was no

LEGEND, 1483, FOL.

Francis, servant and friend of Almighty God, was born in the city of Assyse, and was made a merchant until the 25th year of his age, and wasted his time by living vainly, whom our Lord corrected by the scourge of sickness, and suddenly changed him into another man; so that he began to shine by the spirit of prophecy. For on a time he, with other men of Peruse, was taken prisoner, and were put in a cruel prison, where all the other wailed and sorrowed, and he only was glad and enjoyed. And when they had reproved him thereof, he answered,

Know ye," said he, "that I am joyful, for I shall be worshipped as a saint throughout all the world." ... On a time, as this holy man was in prayer, the devil called him thrice by his own name. And when the holy man had answered him, he said none in this world is so great a sinner, but if he convert him, our Lord would pardon him; but who that sleeth himself with hard penance, shall never find mercy. And anon this holy man knew by revelation the fallacy and deceit of the fiend, how he would

mercy to be expected by any one who opposed his will.... He was beheaded about ten o'clock, aged almost 77: and his head was fixed over London bridge the next day.

"Such was the tragical end of Fisher, which

left one of the greatest blots upon this kingdom's
proceedings,' as Burnet says in his 'History of the
Reformation.' . . . Erasmus represents him as a
man of integrity, deep learning, sweetness of tem-
per, and greatness of soul."-Chalmers's Biog.
Dict., xiv. 323, 326, 328.

FROM BISHOP FISHER'S ACCOUNT OF THE
CHARACTER OF MARGARET, COUNTESS OF
RICHMOND, IN HIS SERMON ENTITLED A
MORNYNGE REMEMBRAUNCE HAD AT THE
MONETH MYNDE OF MARGARETE, COUNT-
ESSE OF RYCHEMONDE AND DARBYE, Lond.,
by W. DE WORDE, 4to, sine anno (1509).

Albeit she of her lineage were right noble, yet nevertheless by marriage adjoining of other blood, it took some increasement. For in her tender age, she being endued with so great towardness of nature and likelihood of inheritance, many sued to have had her to marriage. The Duke of Suffolk, which was then a man of great experience, most diligently procured to have

MACCHIAVELLI.

had her for his son and heir. Of the contrary part, King Henry VI. did make means for Edmund his brother, then the Earl of Richmond. She, which as then was not fully nine years old, doubtful in her mind what she were best to do, asked counsel of an old gentlewoman, whom she much loved and trusted, which did advise her to commend herself to St. Nicholas, the patron and helper of all true maidens, and to beseech him to put in her mind what she were best to do! This counsel she followed, and made her prayer so full often, but specially that night, when she should the morrow after make answer of her mind determinately. A marvellous thing!-the same night, as I have heard her tell many a time, as she lay in prayer, calling upon St. Nicholas, whether sleeping or waking she could not assure, but about four of the clock in the morning, one appeared unto her, arrayed like a bishop, and naming unto her Edmund, bade take him unto her husband. And so by this means she did incline her mind unto Edmund the king's brother, and Earl of Richmond, by whom she was made mother of the king that dead is (whose soul God pardon), and grand-dame to our sovereign lord King Henry VIII., which now, by the grace of God, governeth the realm. So what by lineage, what by affinity, she had thirty kings and queens within the four degree of marriage unto her, besides earls, marquisses, dukes, and princes. And thus much we have spoken of her nobleness. 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 gentlewomen, the matins of our lady, which kept her tothen 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 dinner full truly she would go to her stations to three altars daily; daily her dirges and commendations she would say. and her even songs before supper, both of the day and of our 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 failed not to say the crown of our lady, which after the manner of Rome containeth sixty

In

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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 herebefore 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 that were present at any time she was houshilde [received the communion], which was full nigh a dozen times every year, what floods of tears there issued forth of her eyes!

NICCOLO DI BERNARDO
MACCHIAVELLI,

a famous Italian, diplomatist, statesman, and author, was born at Florence, 1469, and died there, 1527.

"We doubt whether any name in literary history be so generally odious as that of the man whose character and writings we now propose to

consider. The terms in which he is commonly described would seem to import that he was the Tempter, the Evil Principle, the discoverer of ambition and revenge, the original inventor of perjury, and that before the publication of his fatal Prince, there had never been a hypocrite, a tyrant, or a traitor, a simulated virtue, or a convenient crime.... The Church of Rome has pronounced his works accursed things. Nor have our own countrymen been backward in testifying their opinion of his merits. Out of his surname they have coined an epithet for a knave, and out of his Christian name a synonyme for the Devil.

. . . To a modern statesman the form of the Dis

courses may appear to be puerile. In truth Livy is not an historian on whom implicit reliance can be placed, even in cases where he must have possessed considerable means of information. And the first decade, to which Macchiavelli has confined himself, is scarcely entitled to more credit than our Chronicle of British Kings who reigned before the Roman invasion. But the commentator is indebted to Livy for little more than a few texts which he might as easily have extracted from the Vulgate or the Decameron. The whole train of thought is original."-LORD MACAULAY: Edinburgh Review, March, 1827, and in his works, complete, 1866, 8 vols. 8vo, v. 46, 75. MACCHIAVELLI'S DISCOURSE, "HOW HE THAT WOULD SUCCEED MUST ACCOMMODATE TO THE TIMES."

I have many times considered with myself that the occasion of every man's good or bad fortune consists in his correspondence and accommodation with the times.

We see some people acting furiously, and with an impetus; others with more slowness and caution; and because both in the one and the other they are immoderate, and do not observe their just terms, therefore both

of them do err; but his error and misfortune is least, whose customs suit and correspond with the times; and who comports himself in his designs according to the impulse of his own nature. Every one can tell how Fabius Maximus conducted his army, and with what carefulness and caution he proceeded, contrary to the ancient heat and boldness of the Romans, and it happened that grave way was more conformable to those times; for Hannibal, coming young and brisk into Italy, and being elated with his good fortune, as having twice defeated the armies of the Romans, that commonwealth having lost most of her best soldiers, and remaining in great fear and confusion, nothing could have happened more seasonably to them than to have such a general who, by his caution and cunctation, could keep the enemy at bay. Nor could any times have been more fortunate to his way of proceeding; for that that slow and deliberate way was natural in Fabius, and not affected, appeared afterwards, when Scipio, being desirous to pass his army into Africa to give the finishing blow to the war, Fabius opposed it most earnestly, as one who could not force or dissemble his nature, which was rather to support wisely against the difficulties that were upon him, than to search out for new. So that had Fabius directed, Hannibal had continued in Italy, and the reason was because he did not consider the times were altered, and the method of the war was to be changed with them. And if Fabius at that time had been king of Rome, he might well have been worsted in the war, as not knowing how to frame his counsels according to the variation of the times. But there being in that commonwealth so many brave men, and excel

lent commanders, of all sorts of tempers and humours, fortune would have it, that, as Fabius was ready, in hard and difficult times, to sustain the enemy, and continue the war, so, afterwards, when affairs were in a better posture, Scipio was presented to finish and conclude it. And hence it is that an aristocracy or free state is longer lived, and generally more fortunate than a principality, because in the first they are more flexible, and can frame themselves better to the diversity of the times: for a prince, being accustomed to one way, is hardly to be got out of it, though perhaps the variation of the times requires it very much. Piero Soderino (whom I have mentioned before) proceeded with great gentleness and humanity in all his actions; and he and his country prospered whilst the times were according; but when the times changed, and there was a necessity of laying aside that meekness and humility, Piero was at a

loss, and he and his country were both ruined.

Pope Julius XI., during the whole time of his papacy, carried himself with great vigour and vehemence; and because the times were agreeable, he prospered in everything; but had the times altered, and required other counsels, he had certainly been ruined, because he could never have complied. And the reason why we cannot change so easily with the times, is twofold: first, because we cannot readily oppose ourselves against what we naturally desire; and next, because when we have often tried one way, and have always been prosperous, we can never persuade ourselves we could do so well any other; and this is the true cause why a prince's fortune varies so strangely, because he varies the times, but he does not alter the way of his administration. And it is the same in a commonwealth: if the variation of the times be not observed, and their laws and customs altered accordingly, many mischiefs must follow, and the government be ruined, as we have largely demonstrated before; but those alterations of their laws are more slow in a commonwealth, because they are not so easily changed, and there is a necessity of such times as may shake the whole state, to which one man will not be sufficient, let him change his proceedings, and take new measures, as he will.

From Knight's Half-Hours with the Best Authors. New edit., ii. 274.

HUGH LATIMER, born in Leicestershire, about 1472, became Bishop of Worcester in 1535, and was burnt at the stake, in Oxford, with Bishop Ridley, Oct. 16, 1555.

"On the lamented death of Edward he was imprisoned, first in the Tower, and then at Oxford, along with Cranmer and Ridley. After various delays he was tried and condemned to the stake. Fox gives a pitiful and touching account of his appearance before his persecutors, wearing an old threadbare Bristol frieze gown girded to his body with a penny leather girdle, his Testament suspended from his girdle by a leathern sling, and his spectacles without a case hung from his neck upon his breast.' He suffered along with Ridley, 16th of October, 1555, without Bocardo gate,' on a spot opposite Balliol College, now marked by a splendid martyr's monument. Latimer's character excites our admiration by its mixture of simplicity and heroism. He is simple as a child, and yet daring for the truth, without shrinking or ostentation. He is more consistent than Cranmer, more tolerant than Ridley, if less learned and

polished than either. His sermons are rare speci

mens of vigorous eloquence, which read fresh and vivid and powerful now, after three centuries.

SIR THOMAS MORE.

The humorous Saxon scorn and invective with which he lashes the vices of the times are, perhaps, their most noted characteristics; but they are also remarkable for their clear and homely statements of Christian doctrine, and the faithfulness with which they exhibit the simple ideal of the Christian life, in contrast to all hypocrisies and pretensions of religion. In all things,-in his sermons, in his reforms, in his character,-Latimer was

eminently practical."-REV. JOHN TULLOCH, D.D., Principal of St. Mary's College, St. Andrews. Imperial Dict. of Univ. Biog., v. 115.

THE SHEPHERDS OF BETHLEHEM.

I pray you to whom was the nativity of Christ first opened? To the bishops or great lords which were at that time at Bethlehem? Or to those jolly damsels with their fardingales, with their round-abouts, or with their bracelets? No, no: they had too many lets to trim and dress themselves, so that they could have no time to hear of the nativity of Christ; their minds were so occupied otherwise that they were not allowed to hear of him. But his nativity was revealed first to the shepherds, and it was revealed unto them in the night-time, when every body was at rest; then they heard this joyful tidings of the Saviour of the world for these shepherds were keeping their sheep in the night season from the wolf and other beasts, and from the fox; for the sheep in that country do lamb two times in the year, and therefore it was needful for the sheep to have a shepherd to keep them. And here note the diligence of these shepherds; for whether their sheep were their own, or whether they were servants, I cannot tell, for it is not expressed in the book; but it is most like they were servants, and their masters had put them in trust to keep their sheep.

Now, if these shepherds had been deceitful fellows, that when their masters had put them in trust to keep their sheep they had been drinking in the alehouse all night, as some of our servants do nowadays, surely the angel had not appeared unto them to have told them this great joy and good tidings. And here all servants may learn by these shepherds to serve truly and diligently unto their masters; in what business soever they are set to do, let them be painful and diligent, like as Jacob was unto his master Laban. Oh what a painful, faithful, and trusty man was he! He was day and night at his work, keeping his sheep truly, as he was put in trust to do; and when any chance happened that any thing was lost he made it good and restored it again of his own. So likewise was Eleazarus a painful man, a faithful and trusty servant. Such a servant was Joseph, in Egypt, to his master Potiphar.

So likewise was Daniel unto his master

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the king. But I pray you where are those servants nowadays? Indeed I fear me there be but very few of such faithful servants. Now these shepherds, I say, they watch the whole night, they attend upon their vocation, they do according to their calling, they keep their sheep, they run not hither and thither, spending the time in vain, and neglecting their office and calling. No, they did not so. Here, by these shepherds, men may learn to attend upon their offices and callings. I would wish that clergymen, the curates, parsons, and vicars, the bishops, and all other spiritual persons, would learn this lesson by these poor shep herds, which is this,-to abide by their flocks and by their sheep, to tarry amongst them, to be careful over them; not to run hither and thither after their own pleasure, but to tarry by their benefices and feed their sheep with the food of God's word, and to keep hospitality, and so to feed them, both soul and body. For I tell you, these poor, unlearned shepherds shall condemn many a stout and great-learned clerk: for these shepherds had but the care and charge over brute beasts, and yet were diligent to keep them, and to feed them, and the other have the care over God's lambs, which he bought with the death of his son; and yet they are so careless, so negligent, so slothful over them; yea, and the most part intendeth not to feed the sheep, but they long to be fed of the sheep; they seek only their own pastimes, they care for no more. But what said Christ to Peter? What said he? Petre, amas me? (Peter, lovest thou me?) Peter made answer, Yes. Then feed my sheep.

And so the third time he commanded Peter to feed his sheep. But our clergymen do declare plainly that they love not Christ, because they feed not his flock. If they had earnest love to Christ, no doubt they would show their love, they would feed his sheep. Latimer's Sermons.

SIR THOMAS MORE,

born 1480, executed under Henry VIII., 1535. His works were published in Latin, Lovanii, 1565 et 1566, fol.; in English, Lond., 1557, fol.; best Latin edit., Francf., 1689, fol.

"The indictment was then read by the attorneygeneral. It set forth that Sir Thomas More, traitorously imagining and attempting to deprive the king of his title as Supreme Head of the Church," etc. "The usual punishment for treason was commuted, as it had been with Fisher, to death upon the scaffold; and this last favour was communicated as a special instance of the royal clemency. More's wit was always ready. God forbid,' he answered, that the king should show any more

such mercy unto any of my friends; and God
bless all my posterity from such pardons.'
The scaffold had been awkwardly erected, and
shook as he placed his foot upon the ladder.
'See me safe up,' he said to Kingston; for my
coming down I can shift for myself.' He began
to speak to the people, but the sheriff begged him
not to proceed, and he contented himself with ask-
ing for their prayers, and desiring them to bear
witness for him that he died in the faith of the
holy Catholic Church, and a faithful servant of
God and the king. He then repeated the Miserere
psalm on his knees; and when he had ended, and

had risen, the executioner, with an emotion which
promised ill for the manner in which his part in
the matter would be accomplished, begged his
forgiveness. More kissed him. Thou art to do
me the greatest benefit that I can receive,' he said.
Pluck up thy spirit, man, and be not afraid to do
thine office. My neck is very short. Take heed
therefore that thou strike not awry for saving of
thine honesty.' The executioner offered to tie his
eyes. I will cover them myself,' he said; and
binding them in a cloth, which he had brought
with him, he knelt and laid his head upon the
block. The fatal stroke was about to fall, when
he signed for a moment's delay, while he moved
aside his beard. Pity that should be cut,' he
murmured, that has not committed treason.'
With which strange words, the strangest perhaps
ever uttered at such a time, the lips most famous
through Europe for eloquence and wisdom closed
forever."-FROUDE: History of Europe, ii., chap.

ix.

THE UTOPIAN IDEA OF PLEASURE; FROM

mind, in which nature teaches us to delight, a pleasure. And thus they cautiously limit pleasure only to those appetites to which leads us only to those delights to which nature leads us; for they reckon that nature 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.

There are many things that in themselves have nothing that is truly delighting: on the contrary, they have a good deal of bitterness in them; and yet by our perverse appetites after forbidden objects, are not only ranked among the pleasures, but are made even the greatest designs of life. Among those who pursue these sophisticated pleasures they reckon those whom I mentioned before, who think themselves really the better for having fine clothes, in which they think they are doubly mistaken, both in the opinion that

BISHOP BURNET'S TRANSLATION OF MORE'S they have of their clothes, and in the opinUTOPIA, Lond., 1684, 8vo.

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 obliged, gives 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 does 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

ion that they have of themselves; for if you consider the use of clothes, why should a fine thread be thought better than a coarse one? And yet that sort of men, as if they had some real advantages beyond others, and did not owe it wholly to their mistakes, look big, and seem to fancy themselves to be the more valuable on that account, and imagine that a respect is due to them for the sake of a rich garment, to which they would not have pretended if they had been more meanly clothed; and they resent it as an affront if that respect is not paid them.... Another sort of bodily pleasure is that which consists in a quiet and good constitution of body, by which there is an entire healthiness spread over all the parts of the body not allayed with any disease. This, when it is free from all mixture of pain, gives an inward pleasure of itself, even though it should not be excited by any external and delighting object; and although this pleasure does not so vigorously affect the sense, nor act so strongly upon it, yet as it is the greatest of all pleasures, so almost all the Utopians reckon it the foundation and basis of all the other joys of life; since this alone makes one's state of life to be easy and desirable; and when this is wanting, a man is really capable of no other pleasure. They look upon indolence and freedom from pain,

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