he saw "a father of Sion" and three monks going to execution for refusing the oaths. "Lo! dost thou not see, Mag?" he said, "that these blessed fathers be now as cheerfully going to their deaths as bridegrooms to their marriages." Soon after his wife came to see him, and besought him to do as he was required by the king, that he might escape from being shut up with mice and rats, and go back to Chelsea to his house, his library, his gallery, garden, and orchard. But he told her heaven was as near him in the Tower, as in his own home, and he would not lose eternity even to gain a thousand years of life. Lady More, however, was not in patriotic virtue, a Rachael Russell, she still solicited him to accept the oath and thus procure his freedom. Possibly, she may have been an emissary of the court, in a taste to which her own worldly ideas inclined her, for many attempts were made to corrupt the knight and break his resolution. | Agents, also, were sent to entrap him into treasonable words, though the utterance of these was not essential to his condemnation, for with Henry VIII. perjury was as useful an appanage of royalty as the globe and sceptre.

More could be facetious even at this time. A light-headed courtier came to him, and with garrulous impertinence asked him to change his mind. "I have changed it," at length he answered. A report of this reached the King, who sent to demand an explanation, for there was grace for him still, if he would now recant. The knight replied that his meaning was, that whereas he intended to have been shaved on the morning of the execution, he had now changed his mind, and his beard should share the fate of his head!

Early after dawn on the 6th of July, 1535, Sir Thomas Pope came to the prisoner's chamber with a message from the King and Council, that he should prepare himself for death before one o'clock that morning, and that he should not use many words at his execution. For, still the cowardly tyrant feared the judgment of his victim's last utterance upon him; and More was submissive enough to obey. He put on his best clothes. The Lieutenant of the Tower advised him to change them, saying he was but a rascal who would have them. "What, Mr. Lieutenant," he cried, "shall I account him a rascal who shall do me this day so singular a benefit? Nay, I assure you, were it cloth of gold, I should think it well bestowed on him, as St. Cyprian did, who gave his executioner thirty pieces of gold." However, he afterwards changed his dress, and gave the headsman a present in money.

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In this manner a whole year passed away. More was then arraigned for treason at the King's Bench bar. Weak, emaciated, afflicted with a disease in the breast, pale and bent he tottered, leaning on a crutch, to meet his eight judges. The names of the Jury have been preserved. They fill so many lines in the calendar of infamy; but it is not necessary to repeat them, since they were only dragged from obscurity by the baseness of their crime, and are only saved from oblivion by the same crucifixion of history which keeps Monk and Ephialtes perpetually hanging like malefactors before our eyes. An indictment of ponderous prolixity was read, charging him with a malicious, treacherous, and diabolical" refusal of the The time came. He was conducted oath. Witnesses were suborned to by the Lieutenant to the place of execuswear falsely against him, and he told tion. His beard was long, his face thin one of them to his face that he was per- and pale; he carried in his hands a red jured, and would be accountable for cross, and walked with his eyes turned that offence to God. The trial, how-towards heaven. Even then, however, he ever, was a form to mock the sanctity was humorous with his guards. of justice. Already was the prisoner doomed, guilty, of course, the jury found him, and hurriedly he was asked why sentence of death should not be recorded against his crime. With a plain

On

ascending the scaffold he found it ricketty and begged assistance, saying, "I pray, see me up safe, and for my coming down, let me shift for myself." All he said to the spectators was, that they should

pray for him, and remember that he died for the Catholic faith. He next knelt and repeated a psalm; then he rose, and when the executioner asked forgiveness, kissed him, and said cheerfully, "Thou wilt do me this day a greater benefit than ever any mortal man can be able to give me. Pluck up thy spirit, man, and be not afraid to do thy office. My neck is very short; take heed, therefore, that thou strike not away, for saving thy honesty." After this he laid his head on the block, but exclaimed, "wait until I have removed my beard, for that has never committed treason." The axe fell, and humanity was outraged by seeing the head of this pious man fixed on a pole on London bridge. Margaret, his daughter, however, found means to purchase this memorial of her monarch's crime, enclosed it in a leaden box, and ordered it to be buried with her own body, in a vault under Saint Dunstan's, Canterbury. The Knight's corpse lies in the Tower chapel, though some have said it was afterwards removed by his daughter.

Henry received the report of More's execution when he was playing at draughts, and Anne Boleyn was looking on. He cast his eyes on her and said, "thou art the cause of this man's death." He then shut himself up in a chamber and feigned, or perhaps really felt melancholy, but his attempt to fix on his wife the stigma of this crime, only increases the scorn with which all posterity regards his abhorred and wretched name.

More was religious, and his religion was clouded by superstition; but he was not a bigot. In his habits he was simple, and in his abstinence austere. Loyal, beyond virtue, to the King, he resisted his demands when they disagreed with the dictates of conscience. Affectionate to his family, he was benevolent to all men, and though he died in an exploded faith, we may reverence his memory as that of a wise and good man.

The anecdotes of his wit are innumerable. One of his best replies was that to a person named Manners, who, on his elevation, said to him, "honores mutant Mores." "In English that is true" retorted the Knight, for then "honors would change Manners."

A friend brought him a stupid book in manuscript, for his opinion. More with grave humour told him it would be

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better in verse. The author took home his work, versified it, and brought it again: 'Aye," said the Chancellor, now it is something. It is rhyme;but before, it was neither rhyme nor reason." He once employed a clever fellow to rob a justice on the bench, who had declared that none but careless fools ever had their pockets picked.

Sir Thomas More, however, will be remembered chiefly for his literary works. The Utopia or Happy Republic is a household name. It was written in Latin about the year 1516. Great applause greeted it all over Europe, and English, French, Italian, and Dutch translations were speedily circulated. In this ingenious scheme of a commonwealth, the author embodied his own ideas of government. As Swift did in his Travels of Gulliver, so did he in this, obliquely censuring those principles of the English administration which were opposed to his theory of policy and public justice. Such pictures of a state in ideal perfection, have been the favourite studies of men. This suggested the new Atlantus, of Lord Bacon; and the same fancy painted those fabulous creations of the ancient mind-the halcyon or legendary isles, the Marapov vnoo, the Vales of Bliss and Cities of the Just, in which as in other brilliant illusions the imagination of mankind is prone to indulge. A History of Richard the Third, a Life of Pius of Mirandula, many controversial works and some quaint but interes ting letters, have been preserved. It is curious, and is not honourable in our nation, that the writings of Sir Thomas More have been admired more in almost every country than in his own, indeed, they have here been little read, and the polemical part of them would be profitable only to theological and political students. But there is the witchery of a beautiful romance in "Utopia"-the last library edition of which, was printed side by side with the New Atlantis, with commentary and introductory discourse, by J. A. St. John. It formed, in fact, part of a series, in which the Religio Medici and Hydrotaphia, or Urn Burial, by Sir Thomas Brown were included. If there be any of our readers who have not read this singular work, I am sure they have neglected one of the richest compositions in the language. It is like a Titian picture, lighted up.with the pure aerial tints of Claude, in relief to the

deep Rembrandt chiaroscuro, in which some of the groups and scenes are enveloped. They are imperfectly familiar with the literature of their country, who have not studied this composite masterpiece of philosophy and fancy.

I will not add any elaborate summary on the character of Sir Thomas More. We know a man when we see how he has acted. What he speaks or writes may be a disguise, or an epitaph for the tomb. In the history of More's life, however, his motives reveal themselves in the general tenour of his actions. It is not, indeed, the chief merit of biography to judge the person whose career it paints; but to show

so clearly what he was, that the world may judge him from that account. What I cannot avoid, however, is the reflection that More was a good and pious man, sacrificed by an odious prince, before whom the English nation was then content to bow down. And as these occurrences multiply with the pages of our annals, who can wonder, and, still more, who can regret, that in the next century, that infamous and decrepit tyranny was overthrown first in the field by Cromwell, and second in Parliament by the liberal and patriotic antagonists of the Second James.

RAFFAELLO SANZIO.

BEAUTY is not to be considered merely as the fair flower that blooms by the side of the wanderer's path; it is not merely the line of silver or of gold that streaks the edges of the dusky cloud; or the bright feathery foam that crowns the crest of the dark and rugged wave. It is all of these, and it is something more. It is not an extrinsic ornament, nor one of life's dispensible luxuries; but, in a greater or less degree, it is an absolute necessity, and most truly a powerful agent to purify the soul from material tendencies, to strengthen and to elevate, to spiritualize and refine. Beauty, in the highest sense, the ideal, the transcendental, leads the soul infallibly upwards from the earthly and the human to the immortal and divine. It is the likeness of God shining through his works; the monograph of the Great Artist; the type of that radiant splendour that shall bloom evermore in his fair Paradise.

and that selection is difficult. The principles relating to ideal loveliness have, however, recently attained a more perfect development; and hence follow results less likely to perplex the earnest thinker. But we must keep aloof from a question so abstract. It is, however, very evident that many intelligent persons even, have singularly chaotic ideas upon this interesting subject.

To quote the words of an acute and clear-seeing critic: "The conceptions of the elder Greeks regarding beauty were nobler than ours, and for that reason their art was of a loftier character. Their beauty was divine, not human; intellectual, not sensuous; and, like the Jews and Persians, they sought in the loveliness of the human form a type of the perfections of the Deity. Beauty, then," continues the same eloquent writer, "is a thing of the intellect. It is universal and divine; it is incapable of tarnish or desecration; the beauty of holiness,' and the 'beauty of God,' of the Hebrew prophets, are better imaged in the heathen deities of Greece than in the pictured saints of the Roman Church."

Hence, to elevate the public taste, becomes the duty of all " Art-interpreters," who are as the evangelists of the ideal, through whom we receive revelations of the beautiful. Among people in general, rare indeed is a true appre- The truth that beauty is universal, ciation of this high excellence, which has too often been overlooked; many is, or ought to be, the animating soul having sought to imprison their idea of painting, sculpture, architecture, thereof within some one particular type, music, and poetry. Such recognition instead of recognising it in every form, is rather educational than intuitive. It and in all the varieties of its developwill be objected, that the world has ment. been inundated with theories of beauty,

It is the work of the true artist to

reveal to the sons of earth the wondrous how many, alas! there are who fail to sights and sounds that throng the "world of beauty," in visible imagery, or with the glad voice of song. For he ever stands near to the pearly gates of heaven, and through the portals opening at intervals, he receives benedictions of loveliness, and glimpses of celestial glory, which he transmits to us through "pictured and enmarbled dreams," or amid the lofty harmonies of "starry poesy."

The mantle of inspiration which enfolded the painters and sculptors of ancient Greece, seemed to descend with especial power upon the artists of modern Italy. The residents of the fairest land in Europe, a country rich in historic recollections, in proud and lofty memories of heroic time, and thoughts of many wrongs still deeper in stern influence, to them in particular, was intrusted (second to the Greeks) the mission of interpreting the poetry of art. The annals of painting and sculpture in Italy, form a bright and most interesting record, for the Italian artists have given examples of almost every variety of excellence, in the beautiful and the pathetic, in the terrible and the sublime. And among the brilliant galaxy of names included in such history, not one star shines with more untroubled lustre than the name of the "divine Raphael," which is never pronounced by the art-student without the sincerest reverence and the truest love.

introduce into their souls that harmony which ought so surely to follow a true devotion to any object that is noble and good. Why is this? It is because unworthy motives intrude upon their worship. Love of display, self-gratification, desire of gain, looking for the praise of men; these are the sources of ill-success. Ah, not thus, oh thinker-worker! Stand forth amid the world's tumult, free, earnest, and sincere, with no thought of self, no wish of recompense, save that which flows of necessity from the deep love through which your work is accomplished, and whence you discover, in truth, in high thought, or action, each is "its own exceeding great reward." So live and act, and rest assured, in due time, not only shall you enjoy this supreme satisfaction, but yours shall also be the palm to the victor's hand, the crown to the poet's brow.

Raphael's father left home for Perugia, in 1494, in order to make arrangements for placing his son under the tuition of Pietro Perugino, the most renowned artist of the time, but before the completion of these arrangements, Giovanni Sanzio died, in the August of the same year. The negotiations were, however, carried on by his widow and a friend named Simone Ciarla, and so at twelve years of age, the young Raphael was sent to study under Perugino, with whom he remained until he was about twenty years of age.

RAFFAELLO SANZIO DI URBINO was born on Good Friday, 1483, in the city Pietro Vannucci, surnamed Il Peruof Urbino. He was the son of a res- gino, from his residence in Perugia, was pectable painter named Giovanni San- an intimate friend of the great Lionardo zio, who was patronised by the Duke da Vinci. In a poem by Giovanni Federigo of Urbino. Raphael lost his Sanzio, these two artists are gracefully mother early in life. His father mar- alluded to as "par d'etate e par d'amore." ried again, and his second wife, Ber- The works of Vannucci are distinnardina, a fair, loving creature, was as guished by simplicity and sweetness, kind and affectionately attentive to the and a "pure and gentle feeling." The subject of this memoir as if he had been early productions of Raphael bear eviher own child. Giovanni Sanzio was dence to the influence of his master's his son's first instructor, and the boy manner. The charming little picture was soon able to assist his father in his of "St. Catherine" in the National most important works. And thus passed Gallery is to be referred to this period. away the childhood of Raphael, amid The young artist was a most industrithe sweet and gentle influences of ous student. His favourite subject was home, beneath the soft Italian sky, his the Madonna and the infant Christ. spirit ennobled and purified by a con- Many beautiful pictures were painted by templation of all that is fair and lovely, him while he was with Perugino. Perand thus rendered a shrine for those haps the most famous is the one reprelofty thoughts which must be ever re-senting the " Marriage of Mary and sultant from a right study of the beau- Joseph," now at Milan. Raphael soon tiful, the ideal, in nature and in art. But greatly surpassed his master. In 1504

he paid a first visit to Florence. He dreams, when the whole world seems a was provided with letters of recom-summer-land of beauty, and the spirit mendation from the Duchess of Sora, overflows with the well-springs of a the Duke of Urbino's sister, to the Gonfaloniere Sodorini, the successor of the Medici. This visit, although short, was an event in the artist's history. He formed the acquaintance of Ghirlandajo, and of the excellent Fra Bartolomeo. His friendship with the latter was firm and enduring, even unto death. Each exerted a beneficial influence upon the other. The elder of the two, instructed his friend in colouring, and a more happy disposition of drapery, while Raphael in turn inparted to the good Friar a more perfect knowledge of the principles of perspective.

At Florence also- our artist studied the works of Masaccio, and became acquainted with some of the cartoons of Lionardo da Vinci, and certain of the grand efforts of Michael Angelo. Hence he acquired new ideas of force and of sublimity. He soon returned to Perugia, with a mind expanded and enriched, and filled with memories of beauty. The following year he was employed to paint several altar-pieces for different churches, and he executed besides, some smaller pictures of great excellence, which are scattered through various collections.

sweet inspiration, developing itself in soul of genius, in the " harmony of colours," of music, or of song. It was but natural then that the young artist's creations should be in accordance with such happy influences. Take also into consideration the effect of country, and of climate. That glorious Italy, so wreathed with dear enchantments and crowned with strange and lofty memories, its every spot of ground ringing with the echoes of hero-footsteps, and all the air musical with the tones of divinest minstrelsy-was it not a fitting temple for the young enthusiast to bend low in adoring reverence at the shrine of the beautiful and the true? Ah, bright and fair, indeed, must be the artist's life in Italy, if faith and love be with him-for without these no life can be sublime, no death can prove triumphant.

Among the pictures Raphael painted at Florence, are many portraits, some altar-pieces, a Madonna beneath a palmtree, now in the Bridgewater Gallery, the celebrated Madonna del Cardellino, at Florence, and others, altogether about thirty pictures. When our artist was about twenty-five years of age, through the recommendation of his relative, the sculptor, Bramante, he was ordered to Rome by Pius Julius II. to complete the decorations of the Vatican, which had been commenced in the reign of his predecessor, and left unfinished.

After the completion of these works, Raphael returned to Florence, where he remained until the year 1508. Here he enjoyed every facility for study and improvement, which could be supplied by intercourse with eminent men and access to noble galleries of painting and sculpture. The fair city of Florence was the home of refinement of learning, and of genius. It was rendered hallowed ground through having been the birthplace of many of Italy's most illustrious sons. It was here that Dante Alighieri first saw the light of heaven. Here he sang and suffered-indications of talent, than the residents and during his exile in after time, stung by the ingratitude of his birth-city, he immortalized it by the indignant denunciation of his lofty verse.

Some of Raphael's finest pictures were painted during his second visit to Florence, a period of about three years. For he was here, indeed, in the brightest season of life-the glad spring-time of youth, when all is so fresh and beautiful, and it seems a joy to live and breathe the free air of heaven. It is the age, too, of poetry and romance and airy

At that period Raphael had already established a reputation which extended throughout all Italy. The Italians are ever ready and able to appreciate the beautiful, and to welcome genius with sympathy. They are more quick to recognise, and more fervent to love the

in our cold, northern latitudes. Raphael received so urgent an order from the Pope to proceed to Rome, that he was obliged to leave many of his pictures at Florence, for his friends Ghirlandajo and Fra Bartolomeo to finish. In a sketch of Michael Angelo we have already spoken of the haughty character, the unconquerable energy, and the resistless will of Pope Julius II., and of the many large and magnificent designs, whose execution shed such lustre upon the annals of his pontificate.