where we expect the inspirations of fancy, and the genial warmth of feeling. But these defects are amply redeemed in the better portion of his works; and when we smile at the history of the “Leech Gatherer," and "The White Doe of Rylstone, grand-daughter of the Eternal Prince!" let us remember that we owe "The Excursion" to the same hand, and yield up our affections to the dominion of the enchanter, without a single murmur of reluctance or disapprobation. The chief characteristic of Wordsworth's poetry is an intense love of nature,―of nature in her beauty and repose rather than in earthquakes and storms; and this feeling, perpetually present and active, betrays him into a pettiness of expression and a colloquial familiarity of phrase, infinitely below the dignity and power of his genius. But this passionate regard for the inanimate loveliness of creation, this eager perception "of the glory in the grass, the freshness in the flower," imparts an indescribable charm to all his writings, a fascination, and sometimes a sublimity, which awes and delights us by turns. While we note the unsophisticated workings of the bard's heart, and grow intimate with his frank spirit, which, with an amiable egotism, he lays open to our contemplation, we feel that we are admitted to a confidence with one who is the prophet of nature, for whom hill, and stream, and wilderness, have an audible voice, and furnish his mind with "thoughts that do often lie too deep for words." When he touches his harp, we listen as if to hear the songs of the Dryads and the Nymphs; the spirits of the ancient woods speak from his pages, and each rock, each tree, each rivulet, nay, all inanimate objects, serve him as a theme whereon to hang the most profound reflections. The predominant feelings of his heart no one has better depicted than he himself has done in that magnificent strain of music, in which he descants on his early predilections: "For nature then To me was all in all. I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, That had no need of a remoter charm." It is generally supposed that the lyrics of Moore are (with the exception of one or two by Campbell,) the finest productions of that nature in our language, and that they leave competition at an immeasurable distance. Yet, if we are impartially alive to the excellencies of Wordsworth's sonnets, we shall find among them compositions which lose nothing in a comparison with the melodies of the Bard of Erin. In the poetry of Moore, we find a constant flow of voluptuous melody, an unbroken succession of magnificent imagery, and we are so overwhelmed with scenes of beauty, and beings "more exquisite still," that, erelong, we grow weary of admiring. Wordsworth is less profuse of his mental riches he shines brightly and effectively, but he neither dazzles nor overpowers; and he awakens our interest by a faithful description of things common in the everyday world, equally unstudious of dignified language and sonorous versification. We neither admire nor animad vert, till, when it is least looked for, some natural burst of passion or pathos overcomes us unawares, and irresistibly excites our sympathies; and surely this is the noblest triumph of the poet, for it is the subject, not the writer, that elicits our feelings. But the chief characteristic of Wordsworth, and that which will carry his name to posterity, is his truthfulness to nature. Schools of poetry, as they have been termed, may flourish and may fade; they may live their hour in the sunshine of applause, and may revel for a time in the daydream of popularity, but to this complexion they must come at last," that, unless they bear the faithful impress of nature, their fame will not long outlive the author. The delight imparted by the lofty flights of a poetical imagination, though brilliant, is not durable. We may catch, for a moment, the enthusiasm of the poet, and, for a brief space, may soar with him through the regions of fancy. We may feel the sphere of our vision enlarged, and see the creation burst upon our view, decked in brighter hues than our ordinary perceptions can discover; but the effect is transient; the book closed, returning reason pronounces it ǎ delusion. For our parts, we cannot admit that the visions of a fertile imagination, or the glowing fancies of an ideal world, alone indicate poetical genius. We would as willingly assign the palm to him, that could impart the vivid lustre of originality and interest to scenes and emotions that claim a kindred association in our own bosoms; and it is on this principle that we would rank Wordsworth among the very first of modern poets. Not only does he excite the imagination, but he appeals to the heart; he bears us along by an impulse which evinces how strongly our personal feelings are interested; and while we admire the poet, we esteem the man. : BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. No. II. SIR THOMAS MORE. OUR attention has recently been directed to the life and character of Cardinal Wolsey; we now come to the consideration of that of a man immeasurably superior in all those qualities which are truly great and exalted, his illustrious contemporary Sir Thomas More. In the one we have an example of licentiousness of life, and haughty, supercilious manners; in the other, of the purest morals and utmost amenity of disposition in the one we contemplate a man revelling in luxury and delighting in external pomp and display; in the other, a man of frugal and temperate habits, delighting in the society of his family and friends. The one was elated, beyond measure, with prosperity; the other bore meekly the highest dignities: the one was overwhelmed with adversity and cowered like a reed before the storm; the other stood erect in all the high nobility of his nature, and cheerfully submitted to death, when life could only be purchased at the expense of conscience. Sir Thomas More, son of Sir John More, who was for many years one of the justices of the King's Bench, was born in 1480, in Milk Street, Cheapside. Of his early life not much is known; but on leaving school in 1495, he was placed in the house of Cardinal Morton, in conformity with the custom which then prevailed, for the purpose of acquiring an insight into the manners and customs of society. About two years later he was sent to Oxford, where he acquired a knowledge of Greek, and warmly espoused the cause of the Grecians, as the advocates for the advancement of learning were termed, in opposition to the advocates of the old system; and here, also, he contracted that friendship with Erasmus, which lasted during the remainder of his life, and became associated with other learned men. On leaving Oxford, he applied himself to the study of the law, and was, for some time, a lecturer at Furnival's Inn; and he also delivered lectures at a church in the city, on the work of Augustine De Civitate Dei, the studies of law and divinity being then frequently blended. During this period he felt a strong inclination to become a priest, and is said to have lived in the practice of monastic austerities, but finding such a mode of life unsuitable he relinquished the design, and shortly afterwards married a lady named Colt, who died at an early age, leaving a son and three daughters. Soon after her death he contracted a second marriage with Alice Middleton, with whom, notwithstanding her unamiable temper, he managed to live in harmony. Of the public career of More a brief notice will suffice. In the latter end of the reign of Henry VII. he became a member of Parliament, and acquired an honourable distinction by his strenuous and successful opposition to a demand for a large subsidy. About the commencement of the reign of Henry VIII. he was in great reputation as a lawyer, and had a very extensive and lucrative practice. He also filled the office of Under-Sheriff of the City of London-at that time, an appointment of considerable importance, and of Judge of the Sheriff's Court for London and Middlesex. His first connexion with the Government appears to have commenced in 1514, when he was sent to Bruges to arrange com. mercial treaties with the Emperor; and, during some years following, he was frequently sent on embassies to Bruges and Calais. In 1516 he was made a Privy-Councillor, and on this occasion, much to his honour, refused a pension offered him by Henry VIII., lest, in the event of any difference between the king and the City of London, he should be in any way fettered by dependence upon the crown. At this time he was in great favour with the king, who visited him, familiarly and without ceremony, at Chelsea, and took great delight in his society; yet More knew how to appreciate the favour of his royal master, for on one occasion, when his son-in-law Roper expressed his delight at the condescension and kindness of his sovereign, he replied, that if his head would secure to Henry one castle in France, it should not fail to go. In 1521 he was knighted and made treasurer of the Exchequer, and two years later was chosen Speaker of the House of Commons. It was whilst he held the office of Speaker that Cardinal Wolsey went down to the House to endeavour to persuade the members to grant the subsidy which had been desired, and after addressing them on the subject, was greeted with a profound silence; which More excused, on the ground that it was neither expedient nor agreeable to the ancient liberties of the house to reply. In 1525 he was made Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, an honourable and, perhaps, lucrative office; and in 1529 was raised to the highest dignity of the state by his appointment to the office of Lord Chancellor. These various gradations of honour fell spontaneously to the lot of More, and were never the objects of his ambition, or the aim of his life he rather submitted than desired to be great, and would have infinitely preferred a life of quiet and retirement in the bosom of his family. Yet he performed diligently and conscientiously the duties of his high station; was affable and easy of access, received petitions from the poorer suitors, and not only himself rejected, but forbade others to receive bribes; and his impartiality was attested by decisions adverse to members of his own family. But the same cause which had led to the fall of Wolsey, was beginning to beset the path of More with difficulties and dangers. No efforts were spared to win him over to approve the marriage of Henry VIII. with Anne Boleyn; but all in vain. As soon as he saw the storm gathering he resigned the great seal, and retired into private life, with an income amounting, in all, to about £100 per annum; but here he was not suffered to rest, for, in 1534, he was enjoined to take the oath recognising the legitimacy of the king's second marriage, and, on his refusal, was committed to the Tower for misprision of treason, an offence which entailed the penalties of forfeiture and imprisonment. At the same time, he expressed his readiness to take an oath to maintain the succession to the crown, as by law established, in favour of the issue of the second marriage, which he regarded as a political question, whereas the oath demanded of him involved a question of religious belief. During his imprisonment, which lasted thirteen months, he was subjected to harsh and most unworthy treatment, was for a long time debarred from intercourse with his friends and relations, and not permitted to attend the services of the Church; yet nothing could shake his constancy or disturb his cheerfulness and serenity. At length, when all attempts to subdue his resolution and force him to submit had failed, he was brought to trial, upon what precise charge is not clearly ascertained; nor was it, indeed, of much importance, for the state trials of this reign were regulated by the will of the sovereign, and had no respect whatever to the guilt or innocence of the accused. On the 6th July, 1535, More was led to execution: one of the noblest victims that ever fell a sacrifice to the malice of a tyrant. 66 We must not, in our brief survey of the life and character of More, omit to mention the Utopia," the most remarkable of his writings; and in the estimation of Mr. Hallam, the only work of original genius produced during the reign of Henry VIII. It would occupy too much space to attempt an analysis of the work, but a few brief extracts will suffice to show that the author was, in many respects, far in advance of the age in which he lived. He ridicules the folly of those who were wont to plead "that such or such things pleased our ancestors, and it were well for us if we could but match them, and would set up their rest upon such an answer, as a sufficient confutation of all that could be said; as if this were a great mischief that a man should be wiser than his ancestors." In another place, he exposes the impolicy, as well as injustice, of extreme penal laws, particularly those which made theft a capital crime; and, after enumerating the causes which led to the great prevalence of theft at that time, adds, "If you do not find a remedy for these evils, it is a vain thing to boast of your severity of punishing theft; which, though it may have the appearance of justice, yet, in itself, it is neither just nor convenient; for if you suffer your people to be ill-educated, and their manners to be corrupted from their infancy, and then punish them for those crimes to which their first education disposed them, what else is to be concluded from this, but that you first make thieves, and then punish them?" He also exposes many of the practices of the reign of Henry VII., such as depreciating the value of coin when the treasury was empty, and crying it up when the royal coffers were well filled; of tampering with the judges, and other pernicious practices. It is also evident that he held the doctrine so little in fashion with the Tudor family, that a king derives his power and authority from the people. These passages occur in the introductory dialogue, and are attributed to Raphael Hythloday, the imaginary traveller to Utopia. Many of the customs and institutions of the Utopians, such as community of goods, are sufficiently visionary. They were accustomed to dine together in public halls, they all wore the same sort of dress, and were at a loss to comprehend "how any should value himself because his cloth is made of a finer thread; for how fine soever that thread may be, it was once no better than the fleece of a sheep, and that sheep was a sheep still for all its wearing it!" They, also, 66 thought it madness for a man to corrupt the sprightliness of his body by sloth and laziness, or to waste his body by fasting, and so to weaken the strength of his constitution, and reject the other delights of life." But the most transparent satire is found in that passage where he treats of the public dealings of the Utopians:-"They think leagues are useless, and reckon that if the common ties of human nature do not knit men together, the faith of promises will have no great effect on them; and they are the more confirmed in this by that which they see among the nations round about them, who are no strict observers of leagues and treaties. We know how religiously they are observed in Europe; more particularly where the Christian doctrine is received, among whom they are sacred and inviolable! which is partly owing to the justice and goodness of the princes themselves, and partly to the reverence that they pay to the popes, who, as they are most religious observers of their own promises, so they exhort all other princes to perform theirs." The most remarkable passages, however, are those which relate to the subject of liberty of conscience. We are informed, that "this is one of their ancientest laws, that no man ought to be punished for his religion;" and they also held, that "it was a very indecent and foolish thing for any man to frighten and threaten other men to believe any thing because it seemed true to him." Of those who hold atheistic opinions he relates, that "they never raise any that hold these maxims either to honours or offices, nor employ them in any public trust; but despise them as men of base and sordid minds: yet they do not punish them, because they lay this down for a ground, that a man cannot |