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be merry, I muse what a God's name you that it pleaseth him so shortlie to ridd me meane heere still thus fondly to tarrie.' Af. from the miseries of this wretched world, ter he had a while quietlie heard her, with and therfore will I not faile earnestlie tó a cheerfull countenance he said unto her; praie for his Grace bothe heere and allsoe in • I pray thee good Mrs Alice tell me one the worlde to come.' The King's pleasure thing. What is that?' (quoth she) • Is is farther, quoth Mr. Pope, that at your exnot this house, quoth he, as nigh heaven asecution you shall not use manie wordes. Dyne own? To whome she after her ac- * Mr Pope, quoth he, you doe well to give customed homelie fashion not likinge suche me warninge of his Grace's pleasure, for talke, answered: • Tille-valle, tille-valle.? otherwise at that time had I purposed some• How say you, Mrs Alice, is it not soe?' what to have spoken, but of 'noe matter quoth he, · Bone Deus, bone Deus, Man, whearwith his Grace or any should have had will this geare never be leaft? quoth she, cause to be offended. Nevertheless, what• Well then, Mistriss Alice, if it be soe, soever I intended, I am readie obedicntlie quoch hee, it is verie well; for I see no great to conforme my selfe to his Grace's comcause why I should muche joy in my gaie mandement; and I beseeche you, good Mr. house, or in anie thinge thearunto belong- Pope, to be a meane to his Highnes that inga, when if I should but seaven yeeres lie my daughter Margaret maię be at my buriburied under the ground, and then arise and all.' The Kinge is content allreadie, quoth come thither againe, I should not faile to Mr. Pope, that your wife and childeren and finde some thearin that would bid me get other your freinds shall have libertie to be me out of dores, and tell me it weare none present thearat. Oh how muche behold. of mine. What cause have I then to like inge then, said Sir Thomas More, am I such an house as would so soon forget his unto his Grace, that unto my poore buriall Daster?' Soe her perswasions moved him vouchsafethe to have soe gratious considerabut little.
cion ! Whearwithall Mr Pope, takeinge his
leave, could not refraine from weepinge. * Soe remained Sir Thomas More in the Which Sir Thomas More perceavinge comTover more then a weeke after his judg- forted him in this wise. Quiet your selfe, ment. From whence the daie before he good Mr. Pope, and be not discomforted suffered he sent his shirt of haire, not will. for I trust that we shall once in heaven see ing to have it seene, to my wife his deerlie each other full merrilie, wheare we shall be beloved daughter, and a letter written with sure to live and love togeather in joyfull a cole, conteined in the foresaid booke of bliss eternallie.' Uppon whose departure, his workes, expressinge the fervent desire he Sir Thomas More, as one that had binne inhad to suffer on the morrow in these wordes vited to some solemn feast, chaunged himfolloweinge : * I comber you, good Margar: selfe into his best apparrell. Which Mr. et, much, but I would be sory if it should Lieutenant espieing advised him to put it be anie longer then to morrow. For it is of, sayeinge, that he that should have it was Sainct Thomas even and the Utas of St. but a javell.What, Mr. Lieutenant, Peeter: and therfore to morrow longe I to quothe he, shall I account him a javell that gde to God; it weare a daie verie meet and shall doe me this daie soe singuler a beneconvenient for me. Deere Megg, I never fit? Naie, I assure you, weare it cloath of liked your manner towards me better then gold, I should thinke it well bestowed on when you kissed me last. For I like when him, as Sainct Cyprian did, who gave his daughterlie love and deere charitie hath noe executioner thirtie peeces of gold. And leasure to look to worldlie courtesie.' And albeit, at length, he, through Mr. Lieutensoe uppon the next morrowe, Tuesdaie, beant's importunate persuasion, altered his apinze St. Thomas his eve and the Utas of parrell, yet, after the example of the holie Saincte Peeter, in the yeer of our Lord 1535, Martyr Sainct Cyprian, did he, of that little accordinge as he in his letter the daie before money that was left him, send an angell of had sished, earlie in the morninge came to gold to his executioner. And soe was he him Sir Thomas Pope, his singular good by Mr. Lieutenant brought out of the freinde, on message from the Kinge and Tower to the place of execution. Wheare cuansaile that he should the same daie be- goinge up the skaffold, which was soe weake fore pide of the clock in the morninge suffer that it was readie to fall, he saide merrilie deathe, and that therfore he should forth to the Lieutenant, • I praie you see me up with prepare himself thearto. Mr. Pope, safe, and for my comminge downe let me quoth Sir Thomas More, for your good tid shift for my selfe.' Then desired he all ings I hartelie thanke you. I have been the people thearabout to praie for him, and alvaies muche bounden to the Kinge's High- to beare witness with him that he should nes for the benefites and honours that he theare suffer deathe in and for the faithe of hath still from time to time most bountiful. the Catholicke Churche. Which donne he lye heaped uppon me; and yet more boun- kneeled downe, and after his prayers saide, den am I to his Grace for puttinge me into turned to the executioner with a cheerfuli this place wheare I have had convenient countenance, and said unto him, Plucke time and space to have remembrance of my up thy spirits, man, and be not affraide to end. And soe, God helpe'me, most of all, doe thine office: my neck is verie short, Mr. Pope, ani i bounden to his Highnes, take heede therfore thou strike not awrie for VOL. IV.
savinge of thine honestie.' Soe passed Sir mind better than mere talents. That Thomas More out of this world to God up something is-wisdom. And when pon the verie same daie which he most de- the people call to mind the paltry and sired. Soone after his deathe came intelli- cowardly counsels of these men of tagence thearof to the Emperor Charles lents—their insensibility to the imour English Embassadour, and said to him; perishable glories of England-their • My Lord Embassadour, we understande fawning adulation of despotism and that the Kinge your master hath put his despot-their niggardly praises, or faithfull servant and grave councellor Sir their insidious attacks on time-hallowThomas More to deathe.' Whearuppon Sir ed establishments; and, above all, their Thomas Eliott answeared, that he under sneaking, ignorant, and malignant stoode nothing thearof. Well, saide the sneers, at the religion in which we Emperor, it is too true : and this will we have our being—they laugh to scorn saie, that had we binne master of such a servant, of whose dooings ourselves have had the vaunted talents of the Conspiracy,
and look back with mixed self-congrathese manie yeers noe small experience, we would rather have lost the best cittie of our
tulation and self-reproach to the days dominions, than have lost such a worthie of their delusion, when some of them Councellor. Which matter was by the might have allowed themselves to be same Sir Thomas Eliott to my selfe, to my worked up into a causeless terror of wife, to Mr. Clement and his wife, to Mr. the final overthrow of their country's John Heywood and his wife, and unto di.
liberties. vers others his freindes accordinglie report
In vain, however, do these men of ed."
talents try to sustain their former arrogance. In spite of their blustering, they are crest-fallen, --sometimes, in
the midst of their apgriest invectives,
BY THE there is a “ voice of weeping heard, EDINBURGII REVIEWER'S ACCOUNT and loud lament;" they eat their very OF THE LIFE OF THE LATE BISHOP hearts at the spectacle of their coun
try's unparalelled glory—they cry on
us with bitter impatience to believe We wish to call the attention of our ourselves ruined, and wax more wroth readers to this production, not because at the scorn that replies to their folly we think that there is any thing very —they insult the ashes of those great formidable in its mischief, but because men whose counsels have saved Europe it speaks the sentiments and opinions from falling back centuries of civilizaof a Junto whose power, happily for tion in the blastment of despotism this country, is on the decay, and they break in with unhallowed vioought never again to be permitted to lence upon the awful solitude of their lift its head. Fatal, indeed, might afflicted King--and that they may sahave been the influence of these con- crilegiously lay hands on his grey jurated wits and wise-men, on the pa- hairs, they falsely, basely, and hypocritriotism and the religion of Britons, tically accuse him of having neglected had there been in the country as bit- the true interests of that religion which ter a disaffection to the Government, they themselves have for so many and as deep rooted an infidelity re- years been endeavouring to destroy. specting the Christian Faith, as they In their defence of the character of had presumed upon, in their utter igno- Bishop Watson, there is an ample disrance of the spirit of the age. They play of all those qualities of mind and have not now even the cold consola- heart, which have at last awakened tion of distant hope. They feel that against the Edinburgh Review an al, their reign is over-yet they are loth most universal feeling of contempt and to part either with the shibboleth of indignation. It is easy to see the reatheir party, or the insignia of their son of all this useless zeal in the depower, and foolishly continue to as- fence of a man, who, it is well known, sume the same tyrannical demean- regarded them with aversion and abour that they wore in the splendour of horrence. We look in vain in the dull their usurpation, even now, when they and fretful pages of this irritable and have been by the voice of the country disappointed Reviewer, for one trace dethroned.
of a lofty and virtuous indignation ; That country feels and acknowledges, he is vexed, and peevish, and out of that there is something in the human temper—and wrecks his impotent an
ger on every one that comes in his suavity, meekness, and Christian huway; while, instead of a genial and ge- mility, are qualities essential in the Derous strain of admiration for the man character of that churchman who sits whom he pretends to eulogise, he keeps on the Episcopal bench. He did incessantly pouring out reproaches not think, that high stations in the against those, compared with whom, church establishment were to be deeither in virtue or in talents, he, manded as a right-claimed as a possesbe he who he may, would at once sion-seized on as a prey. He thought, be “ diminished to his head.” Re- and he thought justly, that with ali Hecting persons are not thus to be his talents, erudition, and virtues, deceived. This writer does not wear Richard Watson was not entitled to the air of sincerity and truth. He higher promotion than he enjoyed. does not care one iota about the cha- That this view of Bishop Watson's racter of the Bishop of Landaff-he as- character was a just one, his Memoirs unes an appearance of veneration for have shewn to all the world. It is a that great man, that he may indulge gross absurdity to maintain, that men his spleen against a man far greater are to be made bishops solely on the saill, and he drivels out his impotent score of talents. It is still more abEulogies on Richard Watson, that he surd to maintain, that if a man of tamay mingle them with still more im- lents has been made a bishop, it is potent execrations on William Pitt. wicked and infamous not to continue
When he asserts that Pitt had no to promote him to the highest bishopdoubts of the orthodoxy of Watson, rick of all. This Reviewer could not and thought him in all respects worá have more dolorously whined over the thy of promotion to a richer See, but fate of Watson, or more bitterly vituthat he was afraid to offend his Sove- perated Pitt, though the minister had reign, lest he might lose his place, left the theologian to pine away in poand therefore, in deference to what is verty and oblivion. He, and others called the prejudices of that Sovereign, of his Whig friends, seem most tensacrificed the duty he owed to the in- derly alive to their own interests and terests of religion, -he asserts what he those of their party. The good things knew to be false. Pitt never did, of this life, contrary to the ordinary and never could think Watson a fit laws of nature, acquire magnitude in person to be raised to the very proportion to their distance, and ofhighest dignities of the church. That fices of trust and honour, in church and divine had, beyond all bounds of rea- state, assume to them a more magnifison, at one time given up his mind to cent and overshadowing grandeur in an admiration of the French Revolu- the hopeless distance of an everlasting tion—a revolution which at no period perspective. It is a sure way of making was such as to demand the unqualified themselves and their friends ridiculous, praise of a minister of our religion. to be constantly deploring the injusThough he afterwards abjured his faith tice of ministers to the great men of in the revolutionary creed, there still their party ; and there cannot be a remained in his political opinions much more ludicrous instance of such fola of the ancient leaven-he was a man ly, than this of holding up to commisewho submitted impatiently to consti- ration the late Bishop of Landaff as tuted authority in others, though most a neglected man, cruelly suffered to ambitious to possess it in himself-he drag out his existence with only five saw no especial merit in the establish- thousand a year of church preferment. ment of the church of ‘England, and It can but excite laughter to hear such felt for it no especial veneration and complaints uttered for the sake of a though this Reviewer says, with a most man who wanted only those highest of laughable simplicity, that “he never all honours which he did not deserve, was a party-man," it is reluctantly ad- and who can be said to have been disa mitted by his best friends, that he was appointed only because his arrogance in all temporal things ambitious over- was boundless and his ambition insamuch, while it was, and is, notorious tiable. to the whole world, that he often in- We ought almost to beg our readterfered with mean party-politics in ers' pardon for thus exposing the e' tay highly unbecoming his sa- self-evident folly of all such accusacred profession.-Pitt was right in tions; but we wished to direct their thinking, that moderation, temper, attention to the pitiful weapons with which this pitiful person has tried to is with their loyalty as with their rewound the character of William Pitt. ligion. They pretend to fear God and to At this time of day, such imbecile at- honour the king ; yet for twenty years tacks move something more than de- have they been insidiously attacking rision. We cannot bear to see one Christianity, and they have not been of the greatest intellects the world on this, and many former instances has ever produced treated in this of still greater atrocity, ashamed way, even by an implacable enemy, sneeringly to insult their Sovereign, If the giant statue is to be moved now that his crown is laid by, and his from its pedestal, it cannot be by a head strewed with the dust and ashes pigmy's hand. The voice of England of affliction. That grand principle is has decreed that Pitt was a great man admitted in its full force by all, of in his failings as in his strength; and calling to a strict account the character it is now expected, by the people of of the kings of England when death England, that his character shall be has laid them side by side with their spoken of, even by his enemies, with subjects. But we must not antedate şuch a tone of feeling as the illustrious our King's death that we may clutch dead demand from all worthy to be the privilege of dissecting his life. It their compatriots. In our blame of is well that kings should know that the great spirits who have left us, it is posterity will judge them with stern fitting that we hold in memory the impartiality. We, who are free men, imperishable impression which their will send our free thoughts down into characters have left on the mind of the the grave. But we think not of this country. We are unworthy of being our privilege of free men, till death sons of that country, if we disturb the puts it into our hands, and then we use awful repose of its veneration for the it with a solemn awe and a lofty comdead, by words which would have punction. But this man snatches it been condemned as splenetic and vile as a right which he impatiently thinks had they been applied to the liv- has been too long withheld—he frets ing. It is one of the finest things because his Sovereign yet lives-he in the character of our people, that chides the tardy tomb that will not they always think and feel truly relax “its ponderous and marblejaws, of the great men who have died in and he angrily snatches, as it were out their country's service. Pitt so died ; of the hand of nature, that privilege and if his conduct is to be arraigned, of condemnation which she would let it be in a way unknown to this Re- grant only when its object is a lump viewer,-with some portion of that of earth. No genuine Briton would, magnificence of language, and eleva- like this Reviewer, suppose the King tion of sentiment, that clothed the son dead, on a fiction, that he might calumof Chatham with perpetual power; let niate his memory. In other similar it be with all the freedom, but, at the cases death calms anger, and often elesame time, with all the dignity, of vates it into a feeling that is sublime; one who feels what noble ashes lie
but here the reviler seats himself withevery where spread around his feet. in the shadow of the grave, that under
But we have a few words to say of its protection he may rail in safety more solemn import; and we ask, what against the human being whom it has manner of man he must be, who can entombed. This is a sight which the think of what his Sovereign now is, and people of Britain will not calmly endure. yet fears not to speak of him with bit
Having thus meanly calumniated a Lerness and insult. We will not dis
great dead statesman, and cruelly ingrace our pages with the dark disloyalty
sulted his afflicted King, it is someof this despiser of his King. But we what startling to hear this man advowill tell him, that he knows nothing cating the cause of Christianity, and of the spirit that reigns in this island, lamenting the untoward worldly lot if he expects any other reward for that of its successful champions. disloyalty than universal contempt and Risum teneatis amici ? indignation. The Edinburgh Review An infidel writer, in an infidel Reis, we believe, the only journal of any view, with a grave face, and in the pretensions to good feeling or prin- dullest of all possible words, accuses ciple that has spoken disrespectfully of the King and his Ministers of having the King; yet they, forsooth, are all neglected the interests of the only true lovers of a limited monarchy. · It true religion. But we will ask him, and his coadjutors and abettors, if the friends, and, if possible, with his own late Bishop of Landaff deserved hon- inconsistent infidel self; and has, thereour and reward for his defence of fore, not scrupled to give the name of Christianity (and he deserved and re- serious, anxious, conscientious, philosoceived it too), what do the infidel phical doubts, to the indecent, sneerwriters in the Edinburgh Review de- ing, insidious, and malignant attacks serve for the twenty years warfare of Gibbon, whose mind, whenever he they have been waging against that spoke of Christianity, fell into melansanne Christianity? This is a subject choly degradation ;-and what is, if on which they ought not to open their possible, still more barefaced, he has mouths, for they open them but to applied the same language of comconfound themselves, and better to mendation to the feeble and feverish remain dumb for ever, than thus scepticism of the Edinburgh Review. blindly to call down shame and pun- The time is gone by when the reputaishment on their own degraded heads. tion of being a philosopher could be They talk of Gibbon as having been acquired by disbelieving Christianity, «
the most effectual” enemy of the The truth of Christianity is establishChristian faith, and hypocritically eu- ed; and none but weak or wicked logise Watson as his triumphant an- persons would in these days seek to tagonist. They themselves, without revive the long-exploded, and of my of Gibbon's eloquence or erudi- ten refuted fooleries, misnamed argution, possess all his disbelief, and all ments, by which soi-disant philosohis insidious malignity; and if Wat- phers once strove to effect its oversoa is worthy of all good men's re- throw. Had the Edinburgh Reviewverence for having disarmed Gibbon, ers been high-souled and melancholy and blunted the edge of his weapons, sceptics ; preyed on in the solitude of they are deserving of all good men's meditation by fears that rose up from, bate for having picked up those weap- and darkly overshadowed, the grave; ons, tried to restore their edge, and had they shewn themselves to mourn wielded them with a determined, over and deplore the curse of their though a feeble hostility.
own incurable infidelity; had they But this writer, with all his affect- thought and spoken in the spirit of that ed zeal for Christianity, is, after all, religion whose divine origin was yet pot quite comfortable in the idea of doubted by their reason; had they envi. being thought a Christian. And heed the happiness of the true believer, lets us know, that if Christianity can and expressed their own doubts, not only be attacked in a calm, quiet, gen- in order to create or increase those of tlemanly, philosophical manner, it is others, but if possible to obtain relief quite allowable to do so; as if it from the direful weight of darkness were a question of good manners, cour- that loaded their own souls,—then tesy, and decorum, rather than one might we have read their thoughts affecting the eternal happiness of the with a profound commiseration, exhuman soul.
tended to them not only forgiveness “ To attack,” says he, “ by ribaldry, but sympathy, and acknowledged them or with virulence, or before the multitude, to have had the feelings, if not the what millions of our fellow creatures believe, faith of Christians. But conscience and hold sacred as well as dear, is beyond tells them that such is not the nature all question a serious offence, and the law of their scepticism. And when one of punishes it as such. But to investigate re- their number now dares to insinuate ligious questions as philosophers, calmly and that it is so, he is met at once with seriously, with the anxiety of their high importance, and the diffidence which their
an indignant denial from the whole intricacy prescribes, is not only allowable Christian population of the land. but meritorious ; and if the conscientious There is nothing more shocking in inquirer is led by the light of his under. their infidelity than its levity, exstanding TO A CONCLUSION DIFFERENT cept it be its ignorance. FROM THAT OF THE COMMUNITY, he as unsuccessfully look throughout may still, we should think, in many cases their writings for one lofty sentiPROMULGATE IT TO THE PHILOSOPHI. ment in their scepticism, as for one CAL WORLD," &c.
trace of knowledge of the history or The meaning of all this is plain evidence of Divine Revelation. They enough : the Edinburgh Reviewer want scholarship sufficient to enable wishes to stand well with his infidel them to pass for decent infidels--they