when one desires it only for advancing the Christian religion, and not for any honour or advantage that may be had by it, but is actuated merely by a pious zeal. Therefore I earnestly beg it of you, if you can possibly meet with Raphael, or if you know how to write to him, that you will be pleased to inform yourself of these things, that there may be no falsehood left in my book, nor any important truth wanting. And perhaps it will not be unfit to let him see the book itself: for as no man can correct any errors that may be in it, so well as he; so by reading it, he will be able to give a more perfect judgment of it than he can do upon any discourse concerning it: and you will be likewise able to discover whether this undertaking of mine is acceptable to him or not; for if he intends to write a relation of his travels, perhaps he will not be pleased that I should prevent him, in that part that belongs to the Utopian commonwealth; since if I should do so, his book will not surprise the world with the pleasure which this new discovery will give the age. And I am so little fond of appearing in print upon this occasion, that if he dislikes it, I will lay it aside; and even though he should approve of it, I am not positively determined as to publishing of it. Men's tastes differ

they did so well like." In point of fact, though there happened to be no such place as Utopia, neither the description of the country nor the manners of the people contained anything which might not then be credited, when the recent discovery of America had disposed men's minds to believe, nay, to expect daily a revelation of new wonders.

much; some are of so morose a temper, so sour a disposition, and make such absurd judgments of things, that men of cheerful and lively tempers, who indulge their genius, seem much more happy, than those who waste their time and strength in order to the publishing some book, that though of itself it might be useful or pleasant, yet instead of being well received, will be sure to be either loathed at, or censured.8 Many know nothing of learning, and others despise it; a man that is accustomed to a coarse and hard style, thinks everything is rough that is not barbarous. Our trifling pretenders to learning, think all is slight that is not drest up in words that are worn out of use; some love only old things, and many like nothing but what is their own. Some are so sour that they can allow no jests, and others are so dull that they can endure nothing that is sharp; and some are as much afraid of anything that is quick or lively, as a man bit with a mad dog is of water; others are so light and unsettled, that their thoughts change as quick as

Critics have always been the dread of authors, but undoubtedly without much cause; for, unless they succeed, as they seldom do, in strangling a book in the birth, their animadversions fall into oblivion, and the work survives. Besides, they are not always mistaken in their judgments; but, instead of fastening upon a man of genius, and baiting him to death, kindly lend their aid in making known his pretensions, and recommending him to the public. Cases of this description are of course exceptions to the general rule; but they do happen, and every writer should hope they may in his particular in

stance.

they do their postures; and some, when they meet in taverns, take upon them among their cups to pass censures very freely on all writers; and with a supercilious liberty to condemn everything they do not like in which they have the advantage that a bald man has, who can catch hold of another by the hair, while the other cannot return the like upon him. They are safe as it were of gunshot, since there is nothing in them considerable enough to be taken hold of. And some are so unthankful, that even when they are well pleased with a book, yet they think they owe nothing to the author; and are like those rude guests, who after they have been well entertained at a good dinner, go away when they have glutted their appetites, without so much as thanking him that treated them. But who would put himself to the charge of making a feast for men of such nice palates, and so different tastes, who are so forgetful of the civilities that are done? 10 But do you once clear those points with Raphael, and then it will be time enough to consider whether it be fit to publish it

9 This humorous remark reminds me of an anecdote which I heard from a Roman Catholic priest. During the disputes between the rival clergies in Ireland, a Protestant, intending to be very hard upon his adversaries, observed very angrily to a priest, "Why, you carry your iniquity so far, as sometimes to corrupt our wives." "It may be so," replied the priest, "but at any rate you cannot return us the compliment."

10 This will remind the reader of that apt comparison of a book to an ordinary, in the opening of Tom Jones, where the author observes that every one considers he has a right, when he pays for it, to damn his dinner as much as he pleases. And so, no doubt, he has; and if it helps his digestion, one cannot

10 SIR THOMAS MORE'S LETTER TO PETer giles.

or not; for since I have been at the pains to write it, if he consents to the publishing it I will follow my friends' advice, and chiefly yours. Farewell, my dear Peter: commend me kindly to your good wife, and love me still as you used to do, for I assure you I love you daily more and more.

grudge it him. Sir Thomas More seems to forget that men sometimes buy books, which, at least in their opinion, gives them an absolute power over the author, to damn or praise him, just as the humour prompts.

HENRY the Eighth, the unconquered king of England, a prince adorned with all the virtues that become a great monarch; 11 having some differences

11 From this one may judge how very few virtues Sir Thomas thought "a great monarch" ought to possess; for a more worthless tyrant than Henry VIII. history has scarcely recorded in its annals. The truth, no doubt, is, that the author, conscious he was about to write many offensive truths, was desirous of disarming, by flattery, the despot whom our "glorious constitution" allowed the power of life and death over him. "Under governments so much disposed towards encroachment on popular freedom," observes Dr. Vaughan, in his History of England, 66 as were those of the House of Tudor, it was not to have been expected that the liberty of the subject would always be held sacred, inasmuch as the powers of arresting obnoxious persons at pleasure, without being obliged to assign any cause for such acts, or being under the necessity of bringing such persons to trial, is that to which arbitrary princes have generally clung with the utmost tenacity." Chap. xi. p. 176. Even the acknowledg ment, however, of Henry's numerous "virtues" could not save the writer from the executioner's axe; which is sufficient to show what value should be set on that farce, called the Constitution, in the time of the Tudors.