CHAUCER. POPULAR TALES. MORE'S "UTOPIA."
In the history of English intellectual development between the vague
ignorance of the Middle Ages and the new growth of learning in the
sixteenth century, stands the great figure of Chaucer. The first
English writer possessing dramatic power, he is the first also to unite
with the art of story-telling, the delineation and study of human
character. In his translation of the "Romaunt of the Rose" he belongs
to the Middle Ages,--a period of uncontrolled imagination, of
unsubstantial creations, of external appearances copied without
reflection. In his "Canterbury Tales" he belongs to the present,--when
Reason asserts her authority, gives the stamp of individual reality to
the characters of fiction, and studies the man himself behind his
outward and visible form.
The creations of romantic fiction were unreal beings distinguished by
different names, by the different insignia on their shields, and by the
degree in which they possessed the special qualities which formed the
ideal of mediæval times. The story of their lives was but a series of
adventures, strung together without plan, the overflow of an active but
ungoverned imagination. The pilgrims to the shrine of Canterbury are
men and women, genuine flesh and blood, as thoroughly individual and
distinct as the creations of Shakespeare and of Fielding. They dress,
they talk, each one after his own manner and according to his position
in life, telling a story appropriate to his disposition and suitable to
his experience. The knight, with armor battered in "mortal battailles"
with the Infidel, describes the adventures of Palamon and Arcite, a
tale of chivalry. The lusty young squire, bearing himself well, "in
hope to stonden in his lady grace," tells an Eastern tale of love and
romance. The prioress, "all conscience and tendre herte," relates the
legend of "litel flew of Lincoln," murdered by the Jews for singing his
hymn to the Virgin. The clerk of Oxford, who prefers to wealth and
luxury his "twenty bookes clad in blak or reede," contributes the story
of the patient Griselda.
The "Canterbury Tales" are so familiar that an extended notice of them
here would be superfluous, especially as we are dealing with narratives
in prose form. But in seeking to trace the origin and progress of the
English novel as it is now written, we must record the first appearance
of its special characteristics in the works of Chaucer. Here are first
to be seen real human beings, endowed with human virtues and subject to
human frailties; here fictitious characters are first represented amid
the homely scenes of daily life; here they first become living
realities whose nature and dispositions every one may understand, and
with whose thoughts every one may sympathize. We must notice, also, the
significant fact that of the thirty-two pilgrims who jogged along
together that April day, four were of a military character, eleven
belonged to the clergy, and seventeen were of the common people. A
century before Chaucer's time, when the feudal spirit was still
all-powerful, there were but two classes of men thought worthy of
consideration, the knighthood and the clergy; and in the romances of
chivalry knights and priests exclusively composed the _dramatis
personæ_. But the slow progress of the masses, in whom lies the chief
strength of a nation, becomes visible in Chaucer's time. In the towns
the tradesmen were rising to wealth and consideration. In the country
the yeomanry--the laborers and farmers--were throwing off their
serfdom, and emerging from the chrysalis of obscurity in which they had
long been hidden. At Cressy and Poitiers the English archers disputed
with the knighthood the honors of victory. While Chaucer was planning
the "Canterbury Tales," introducing into his gallery of contemporary
portraits more figures of tradesmen than of knights or priests, the
Peasant Revolt took place; the common people, long trodden in the dust,
rose in defence of their rights as men, and John Ball, the "mad priest
of Kent," asked questions of the yeomen about him which showed how
surely the Middle Ages were becoming a part of the past. "By what right
are they whom we call lords greater folk than we? * * * If we all came
of the same father and mother, of Adam and Eve, how can they say or
prove that they are better than we, if it be not that they make us gain
for them by our toil what they spend in their pride?" * * * "When Adam
delved and Eve span, who was then the gentleman?"[26] As in the history
of Chaucer's time, so in his "Canterbury Tales" we perceive the decline
of feudal and priestly tyranny which had gone hand in hand: the one
keeping up a perpetual state of war and violence; the other limiting
and enfeebling the human intellect, the activity of which could alone
raise mankind out of barbarism.
The passion for war and for a military life which had kept Europe in a
state of constant disturbance during the Middle Ages, which had brought
about the Hundred Years' struggle between England and France, and which
had found its worst issue in the Wars of the Roses in the fifteenth
century, had, in the sixteenth century largely spent its force. The
pomp and luxury of chivalry had lessened the activity of military
feelings. The expense entailed by chivalric pageantry had diminished
the power of the nobles over their dependents. Many feudal barons were
obliged to sell liberty and privileges to part of their bondsmen to
obtain the wherewithal to maintain the remainder. The gradual growth of
the towns and of trade produced a class which, having all to lose and
nothing to gain by war, threw its influence against disorder. The
advance in the study and practice of law diminished habits of violence
by furnishing legal redress. But the most powerful agent in destroying
the old warlike taste was the invention of gunpowder. In the Middle
Ages the whole male population had been soldiers in spirit and in fact.
But the application of gunpowder to the art of war made it necessary
that men should be especially trained for the military profession. A
limited number were therefore separated from the main body of the
people, who occupied themselves exclusively with military affairs,
while the remainder were left to pursue the hitherto neglected arts of
peace. The love of war and the indifference to human suffering so long
nourished by feudalism could only be thoroughly extinguished by
centuries of gradual progress. The heads of queens and ministers of
state falling from the block attest the strength of these feelings in
Henry the Eighth's time. They were, however, fast losing ground before
the new growth of learning. Their decline is illustrated by the fiction
of the sixteenth century, as their full power was depicted in the early
romances of chivalry.
In the sixteenth century, chivalry as an institution, and even as an
influential ideal had entirely passed away. The specimens of romantic
fiction which were read during the reigns of Henry the Eighth and of
Elizabeth could no longer appeal to an entirely warlike and
superstitious class. They were modified to meet new tastes, and in the
process became superior in literary merit, but inferior in force and
interest. This is especially true of the romances translated from the
Spanish. Amadis of Gaul and Palmerin of England show merits of
narrative sequence and elegance of expression which did not belong to
the earlier romances, of which the "Morte d'Arthur" formed a
compendium. But the chivalry of Amadis and Palmerin was polished,
refined and exaggerated till it became entirely fanciful and lost the
old fire and spirit. In the so-called tales of chivalry produced or
adapted by English writers during this century there is no trace of the
poetry and interest of chivalric sentiments. In "Tom-a-Lincoln," the
Red Rose Knight, the noble King Arthur is represented as an old dotard,
surrounded by knights who bear no resemblance in person or in the
nature of their adventures to their prototypes of romantic fiction.[27]
The ideal character of the yeomanry succeeded to the ideal character
of the knighthood; Robin Hood and his merry companions took the place
in the popular mind which belonged to King Arthur and his knights of
the Table Round. The yeomen of England were imbued with a spirit of
courage and liberty unknown to the same class on the continent of
Europe, and their love of freedom and restless activity of disposition
found a reflection in the person of their hero. Supposed to have lived
in the thirteenth century, his name and achievements have been sung in
countless rhymes and ballads, and have remained dear to the common
people down to the present day. The patron of archery, the embodiment
of the qualities most loved by the people--courage, generosity,
faithfulness, hardihood,--the places he frequented, the well he drank
from, have always retained his name, and his bow, with one of his
arrows, was preserved with veneration as late as the present
century.[28] The ideal of the yeomanry was similar to that of chivalry
in the love of blows fairly given and cheerfully taken, in the love of
fighting for fighting's sake. It was similar in the courtesy which was
always a characteristic of Robin Hood; in the religious devotion which
caused the outlaw to hear three masses every morning before setting out
on his depredations; in the gallantry which restrained him from
molesting any party which contained a woman.[29] But the tales relating
to Robin Hood differ from those of the Round Table in their entire
freedom from affectation and from supernatural machinery. They
breathe, too, an open-air spirit of liberty and enjoyment which was
pleasing and comprehensible to the dullest intellect, and which made
them, in the broadest sense, popular. The good-humored combativeness of
the yeoman sympathized with every beating which Robin Hood received,
and with every beating which he gave. In Robin's enmity to the clergy,
in his injunction to his followers,
"Thyse byshopppes and thyse archebyshoppes,
Ye shall them bete and bynde,"
the people applauded resistance to the extortion of the church. In
Robin's defiance of the law and its officers, they applauded resistance
to the tyranny of the higher classes. Waylaying sheriffs and priests,
or shooting the king's deer in Sherwood Forest, the famous outlaw and
his merry men, clad all in green, were the popular heroes. On Robin
Hood's day the whole population turned gaily out to celebrate his
festival, never weary of singing or hearing the ballads which
commemorated his exploits. Robin was a robber, but in times of disorder
highway robbery has always been an honorable occupation, and the
outlaws of Sherwood Forest were reputed to give to the poor what they
took from the rich. Diligent enquiries have been made to ascertain
whether the personage known as Robin Hood had a real existence, but
without positive results. The story of his life is purely legendary,
and the theories in regard to him have never advanced beyond
hypothesis. It is exceedingly probable that such a man lived in the
twelfth or thirteenth century, and that the exploits of other less
prominent popular heroes were connected with his name and absorbed in
his reputation. The noble descent which has often been ascribed to him
is in all likelihood the result of the mediæval idea, that the great
virtues existed only in persons of gentle birth. This very prevalent
opinion is often apparent in the romances of chivalry, where knights of
exceptional valor, who had supposed themselves to be basely descended,
almost invariably turn out to be the long-lost offspring of a famous
and noble person. Like the tales of chivalry, the narratives of Robin
Hood's adventures were sung and recited in metrical form long before
they found their way into prose. The following extract forms a part of
the first chapter of the story called the "Merry Exploits of Robin
Hood," which had a considerable circulation in the sixteenth century.
"Robin Hood's Delights; or, a gallant combate fought between Robin
Hood, Little John, and William Scarlock, and three of the keepers
of the King's deer, in the forest of Sherwood, in Nottinghamshire."
"On a midsummer's day, in the morning, Robin Hood, being
accompanied with Little John and William Scarlock, did walk forth
betimes, and wished that in the way they might meet with some
adventures that might be worthy of their valour; they had not
walked long by the forrest side, but behold three of the keepers of
the king's game appeared, with their forrest-bills in their hands,
and well appointed with faucheons and bucklers to defend
themselves. Loe here (saith Robin Hood) according to our wish we
have met with our mates, and before we part from them we will try
what mettle they are made off. What, Robin Hood, said one of the
keepers; I the same, reply'd Robin. Then have at you, said the
keepers; here are three of us and three of you, we will single out
ourselves one to one; and bold Robin, I for my part am resolved to
have a bout with thee. Content, with all my heart, said Robin Hood,
and Fortune shall determine who shall have the best, the outlaws
or the keepers; with that they did lay down their coats, which
were all of Lincoln Green, and fell to it for the space of two
hours with their brown bills, in which hot exercise Robin Hood,
Little John and Scarlock had the better, and giving the rangers
leave to breathe, demanded of them how they liked them; Why! good
stout blades i'faith, saith the keeper that fought with Robin, we
commend you. * * * I see that you are stout men, said Robin Hood,
we will fight no more in this place, but come and go with me to
Nottingham, (I have silver and gold enough about me) and there we
will fight it out at the King's Head tavern with good sack and
claret; and after we are weary we will lay down our arms, and
become sworn brothers to one another, for I love those men that
will stand to it, and scorn to turn their backs for the proudest
Tarmagant of them all. With all our hearts, jolly Robin, said the
keepers to him; so putting up their swords and on their doublets,
they went to Nottingham, where for three days space they followed
the pipes of sack, and butts of claret without intermission, and
drank themselves good friends."
The story of "George-a-Green," the brave Pindar of Wakefield is very
similar to that of Robin Hood. George was as fond as his more noted
friend of giving and taking hard knocks, and it is his skilful and
judicious use of the quarter-staff in fulfilling the duties of his
office, which gives rise to the incidents of the story. A curious relic
of chivalry appears in the passage where Robin Hood the outlaw, and
George a-Green the pound-keeper, meet to decide with their
quarter-staves the relative merit of their sweethearts.[30]
Of the stories relating to the yeomanry the most important was the
"Pleasant Historic of Thomas of Reading; or, The Sixe Worthie Yeomen of
the West," by Thomas Deloney, a famous ballad-maker of the 16th
century. It is the narrative of the life and fortunes of a worthy
clothier of Henry the First's time, telling how he rose to wealth and
prosperity, and was finally murdered by an innkeeper. There is
interwoven a relation of the unhappy loves of the "faire Margaret,"
daughter of the exiled Earl of Shrewsbury, and of Duke Robert, the
King's brother, which ends in the Duke losing his eyes, and the fair
Margaret being immured in a convent. The story illustrates some curious
old customs, and is written in an unaffected and easy style, which
makes it still very readable. A passage describing the churching feast
of the wife of one of the "Sixe worthie yeomen," makes a natural and
humorous picture of contemporary manners.
Sutton's wife of Salisbury, which had lately bin deliuered of a
sonne, against her going to church, prepared great cheare; at what
time Simon's wife of Southhampton came thither, and so did diuers
others of the clothiers' wiues, onely to make merry at this
churching feast: and whilest these dames sate at the table, Crab,
Weasell and Wren waited on the board, and as the old Prouerbe
speaketh, Many women, many words, so tell it out at that time; for
there was such prattling that it passed: some talkt of their
husbands' frowardnes, some shewed their maids' sluttishnes,
othersome deciphered the costlines of their garments, some told
many tales of their neighbours: and to be briefe there was none of
them but would have talke for a whole day.
But when Crab, Weazell and Wren saw this, they concluded betwixt
themselves, that as oft as any of the women had a good bit of meate
on their trenchers, they offering a cleane one should catch that
commodity, and so they did; but the women being busie in talke,
marked it not, till at the last one found leisure to misse her
meate * * * The women seeing their men so merry, said it was a
sign there was good ale in the house.[31]
As the decline of disorder and of martial tastes had given men the
opportunity to lead other than military lives, so the decline of the
theological spirit enabled them to attain that diffusion of knowledge
without which there could be no civilization. The Roman clergy, during
many centuries, partly from conscientious motives, and partly to
maintain their own power, had suppressed intellectual and material
advancement, and had kept men in a state of gross ignorance and
superstition. In England the church gradually lost her old influence by
her internal rottenness: she was unable to resist the new growth of
learning which sprung up in the first half of the sixteenth century;
and her power for evil was destroyed by the Reformation. The
superstitions, however, which she had nourished, lingered long after
her power had passed away, and these have given birth to some curious
specimens of fiction. The natural tendency of an ignorant and
superstitious people was to ascribe superior mental ability to
intercourse with Satan, and to imagine that any unusual learning must
be connected with the occult sciences. These ideas are illustrated by
the stories relating to Friar Bacon and to Virgil which were printed
during the sixteenth century, and which embodied the legends regarding
these great men which had passed current for two hundred years. The
same ignorant indifference to useful learning which made Roger Bacon,
the great philosopher of the thirteenth century, "unheard, forgotten,
buried," represented him after his death as a conjurer doing tricks for
the amusement of a king. "The Famous Historie of Frier Bacon," is
written in a clear and simple style, very similar to that of "Thomas of
Reading," and recounts: "How Fryer Bacon made a Brazen Head to speake,
by the which hee would have walled England about with Brasse"; "how
Fryer Bacon by his arte took a towne, when the king had lyen before it
three months, without doing to it any hurt"; with much more of the same
sort. This story would be without interest, were it not for the
introduction of the Friar's servant, one Miles, whose futile attempts
at seconding his master's efforts, and sometimes at imitating them,
occasion some very amusing scenes. Friar Bungay, the famous conjurer of
Edward the Fourth's time, appears as Bacon's assistant.
Virgil was treated in the same way. The age which turned Hercules into
a knight-errant, very consistently represented the poet and philosopher
as a magician. All through the Middle Ages the name of Virgil had been
connected with necromancy. "The authors," says Naudeus,[32] "who have
made mention of the magic of Virgil are so many that they cannot be
examined one after another, without loss of much time." On the title
page of the "Lyfe of Virgilius," we learn that: "This boke treateth of
the lyfe of Virgilius, and of his deth, and many mervayles that he dyd
in hys lyfe tyme by whychcrafte and nygramancye thorowgh the helpe of
the devyls of Hell." Some of the "mervayles" being: "Howe Virgilius
made a lampe that at all tymes brenned"; "howe Virgilius put out all
the fyer of Rome"; "howe Virgilius made in Rome a metall serpente." In
this story of Virgil occurs a curious instance of the appearance of the
same incident in very different works of fiction. The poet being
enamoured of a certain Roman lady, persuaded her to lower a basket from
her window, in which he should enter and be drawn up to her chamber.
The lady assented, but when the basket had ascended half way, she left
her lover to hang there, exposed the next morning to the ridicule of
the populace, for which treachery Virgil takes terrible revenge. This
story of the basket became very popular; it was introduced into a well
known French fabliau[33]; and Bulwer worked it, with slight changes,
into his novel of "Pelham," where Monsieur Margot experiences the same
sad reflections concerning the deceitfulness of woman, which had long
before passed through the mind of Virgil.
The devil himself, or more properly, one of the many devils who
abounded in the sixteenth century, is the hero of the "Historie of
Frier Rush."
The imagination of the peasantry had peopled the woods and dells with
gay and harmless spirits, fairies and imps. These were sometimes
mischievous, but might always be propitiated, and excited in the rural
mind curiosity and amusement rather than fear. But the clergy, who
shared in the popular superstitions, and gave as ready a belief as the
peasantry to the existence of these supernatural beings, were unable
from the nature of their creed to admit the possibility that these
spirits were harmless. To the monks all supernatural creatures were
either angels or devils, and under their influence the imps and fairies
whom the peasants believed to be dancing and playing pranks about them
were turned into demons bent on the destruction of human souls.[34]
Friar Rush was probably at one time a good natured imp like Robin Good
Fellow, but under the influence, of Christian superstition he became
the typical emissary from Satan, who played tricks among men calculated
to set them by the ears, and who sought by various devices, always
amusing, to fit them for residence in his master's dominions.
In the history before us, which is probably only one of many which
circulated concerning the mischievous friar, he obtains admission into
a convent for the purpose of debauching its inmates. Having received
employment as under-cook, he soon finds means to throw his master into
a cauldron of boiling water, and pretending that the cook's death
resulted from an accident, he obtains the chief position in the kitchen
himself. He then provides the convent with such delicious food that the
monks give themselves up entirely to material enjoyment, and finally
reach a condition of degeneracy from which recovery is almost
impossible. Rush, however, is exposed in time to prevent absolute ruin,
and sets out to make up for this failure by good service elsewhere. The
story is described on the title-page as "being full of pleasant mirth
and delight for young people."
The tales of the yeomanry were very popular during the sixteenth
century, and were sold as penny chapbooks for many years. They form an
interesting link in the history of English prose fiction, representing
as they do the first appearance of a popular demand for prose stories,
and the first appearance, except in Chaucer, of other than military or
clerical heroes. They possess an element of reality which separates the
chivalric ideal of the Middle Ages from the pastoral-chivalric ideal of
Elizabeth's time, the latter typified by Sidney's "Arcadia." The tales
relating to the conjurers are quite mediæval in character. They are of
interest only so far as they serve to illustrate the effect of popular
superstition upon the literature of the time.
The New Learning, growing up in the place of war and theology, meant
the dawn of material prosperity, of the rule of law, and of a new
intelligence diffused through the opinions and industries of men. Of
this there is no better exposition than Sir Thomas More's "Utopia."
More was a devout Catholic. He wore a hair shirt next his skin; he
flogged himself; he gave his life for a theological principle. But he
was also a Christian in a wider sense. He appreciated the importance to
men of peace and happiness, as well as of orthodoxy. He sought to
promote, what the clergy sought to destroy, the benefits of
intellectual and material advancement. More was a lawyer, seeing
clearly into the temper of his time, and discerning the new tendencies
which were forming the opinions and influencing the actions of his
countrymen. It was as a lawyer, too, that he was able to do this. As a
soldier, or as the inmate of that Carthusian cell his youth had longed
for, he would have shared the prevailing blindness. For many centuries
all intellectual activity had been occupied with theological
disputes,--how barren it is needless to say; all physical activity had
been occupied in destroying or in protecting life. "There were indeed,"
says Buckle,[35] "many priests and many warriors, many sermons and many
battles. But, on the other hand, there was neither trade, nor commerce,
nor manufactures; there was no science, no literature; the useful arts
were entirely unknown; and even the highest ranks of society were
unacquainted, not only with the most ordinary comforts, but with the
commonest decencies of civilized life." But the New Learning dealt
with secular subjects, and aimed at material welfare. At Antwerp, says
More:
"Vpon a certayne daye, when I hadde herde the diuine seruice in our
Ladies Churche, which is the fayrest, the most gorgeous and curious
churche of buyldyng in all the Citie, and also the most frequented
of people, and the seruice beynge doone, was readye to go home to
my lodgynge, I chaunced to espye this foresayde Peter talkynge with
a certayne Straunger, a man well stricken in age, with a blacke
sonneburned face, a longe bearde, and a cloke cast homly about his
shoulders, whome, by his fauoure and apparell furthwith I iudged to
bee a mariner."[36]
This was the fictitious personage whose travels had led him to the
distant island of Utopia, and who described to Sir Thomas the nature of
its government. Europe for fifteen centuries had been under the control
of the clergy, and what had been the result? Where was the progress?
How much had the barbarism of one century differed from that of the
last? But in Utopia there was no priesthood. Men had a simple faith.
They "were persuaded that it is not in a man's power to believe what he
list," and when they met in public worship it was to hold such services
that all might freely join in them. Religion in Utopia was left to the
individual conscience. War was considered an unmitigated evil, and
never undertaken except in the extremest necessity. The people of
Utopia, therefore, not being exclusively occupied, on the one hand,
with discussing their religion and enforcing it on others, or, on the
other hand, with violating all its teachings, were able to think of
other things. How to make the best laws for the government of the
commonwealth; how to deal with crime, with labor; how to promote the
highest condition of general well-being, as regarded the public health,
public education, the comfort and cleanliness of dwellings;--these were
the questions which the Utopians considered most important, and these
were solved by the exercise of human reason. These were questions, too,
with which the English people found themselves confronted in the
beginning of the sixteenth century, and before that century had passed
away, the results even of a very imperfect solution regarding them were
apparent in every department and in every class of life.
The great mind, the noble character of Sir Thomas More stand out the
best production of his time. The strong religious bias of the man made
it inevitable that he should remain considerably under the influence of
the old theological teachings, but in the intelligent man of the world,
in the large-hearted philanthropist, in the honest patriot, appear the
new and beneficent tendencies which were at work. Like all men who have
been in advance of their time, More was looked upon as a dreamer. A
dreamer he might naturally seem, who, in the beginning of the sixteenth
century, looked for peace, for religious toleration, for justice to the
lower classes. But these dreams were destined to be realized long after
More's headless body had crumbled to dust, by that learning which he
himself so seduously cultivated, and by the decay, too, of some of
those ideas for which he died a martyr's death. The growth of the
universities, the establishment of grammar schools, the impetus given
to all useful occupations during the reign of Henry VIII, were
gradually aiding the advance of that new era in the history of England
which developed so brilliantly under Elizabeth. In her reign the old
warlike spirit had decayed, theology had lost its obstructive power,
and human reason began to bear its legitimate fruits--prosperity and
civilization.
[Footnote 26: Green's "Short History of the English People," p. 203.]
[Footnote 27: "Tom-a-Lincoln" has been reprinted in W.J. Thorn's
valuable collection of "Early English Prose Romances," where may also
be found a story similar in nature, called "Helyas, Knight of the
Swanne." I do not consider these productions worthy of more extended
notice here, as they possess no interest in themselves, and serve only
to illustrate the degeneracy of the fictions relating to the knighthood
during the 16th century. The compilation called "The Seven Champions of
Christendom", by Richard Johnson, the author of "Tom-a-Lincoln", said
to contain "all the lyes of Christendom in one lye," obtained
considerable popularity and circulation during this period. Dunlop
mentions ("Hist. of Fiction," chap. xiv) the "Ornatus and Artesia", and
"Parismus, Prince of Bohemia," by Emmanuel Ford, and the "Pheander, or
Maiden Knight," by Henry Roberts, belonging in the same class of
composition. An English version of the old tale of Robert the Devil
belongs to this period, and may be found in W.J. Thom's collection.]
[Footnote 28: Ritson's "Robin Hood."]
[Footnote 29: Hunter's "Robin Hood", p. 13.]
[Footnote 30: "George-a-Green," chap. x, Thom's "Early Eng. Prose
Romances."]
[Footnote 31: "Thomas of Reading," chap. 12.]
[Footnote 32: Thom's preface to "Vigilius," "Early Eng. Prose
Romances."]
[Footnote 33: "Lai d'Hippocrate," Le Grand. Thom's Prelude to
"Virgilius."]
[Footnote 34: Wright's "Essays on the Middle Ages," _Essay x_.]
[Footnote 35: Buckle's "Hist. of Civilization," vol. I, p. 147.
Appleton's ed.]
[Footnote 36: "_A fruteful and plesaunt worke of the beste state of a
publyque weale, and of the newe yle called UTOPIA: written in Latin by
SYR THOMAS MORE KNYGHT, and translated into Englysshe by RAPHE ROBYNSON
Citisein and Goldsmythe of London at the procurement and earnest
request of George Tadlowe Citisein and Haberdassher of the same Citie.
Imprinted at London by Abraham Wele, dwelling in Paul's Churcheyarde at
the Sygne of the Lambe, Anno, 1551." Arber's reprint._]