XXXVI. I have taken notice of a thing which is a little remarkable, and that is, that great virtues are less perceptible than small ones. This is derived from the exercise of them not being so frequent, and the value of them, not being generally understood. The going regularly to church, exterior modest deportment, taciturnity and fasting, are virtues, which strike the eyes of every one, because they are daily practised, and every body knows them. There are other virtues, that are more substantial, and which spring from more noble roots, that the vulgar are unacquainted with, because they are carried about by those who are masters of them, like ladies who go abroad _incog._ without the ostentatious parade and show of equipage. There are men (would to God there were more of them!) who with an open carriage, and the free correspondence and intercourse of an ordinary life, and who do not seem the least sensible or affected with mysterious niceties, that nourish within their breasts, a robust virtue and solid piety, impenetrable to the most furious batteries of the three enemies of the soul. Let Sir Thomas More, that just, wise, and prudent Englishman, whom I have always regarded with profound respect, and a tenderness approaching to devotion; I say let this man serve as an example to all men, and stand as a pattern to future ages, of all the virtues and excellencies I have been describing. XXXVII. If we view the exterior part of the life of Sir Thomas More, we only see an able politician, simple in his manners, engaged in a department of the state, and attentive to the affairs of the king and kingdom, always suffering himself to be wafted by the gale of fortune, without soliciting honours, and without refusing to accept of them; in private life, open, courteous, gentle, cheerful, and even fond of a convivial song, frequently partaking in the halls of mirth, of the jovial relaxations of the mind, and in the circulation of wit and pleasantry; always innocent, but never shewing the least symptom of austerity. His application in literature was directed, indifferently and alternately, to the study of sacred and profane learning, and he made great advances in both the one and the other. His great application to, and proficiency in the living languages of Europe, represent him as a genius desirous of accommodating himself to the world at large. His works, except such as he composed in prison during the last year of his life, seemed more to savour of politics than religion. I speak of the subject of them, not of the motive with which he wrote them. In his description of Utopia, which was truly ingenious, delicate, and entertaining, he lets his pen run so much on the interests of the state, as makes it seem as if he was indifferent about the concerns of religion.