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Updated: May 31, 2025
Heaven send her through French and Italian with better success than attended Mr. Caxton's lessons in Greek to Pisistratus! She has an ear for music which my mother, who is no bad judge, declares to be exquisite. Luckily there is an old Italian, settled in a town ten miles off, who is said to be an excellent music-master, and who comes the round of the neighboring squirearchy twice a week.
Caxton's exclamation refers, if not ugly, is at least savage, bare, and rude. Our host regaled us with a hospitality that notably contrasted his economical thrifty habits in London.
It is perhaps because Morte d'Arthur is easily read that it has become a storehouse, a treasure-book, to which other writers have gone and from which they have taken stories and woven them afresh and given them new life. Since Caxton's time Morte d'Arthur has been printed many times, and it is through it perhaps, more than through the earlier books, that the stories of Arthur still live for us.
The original of Raoul's "History," the "Oration of John Russell on Charles, Duke of Burgundy, being created a Knight of the Garter," and the "Translation" of Raoul, were, as far as we know, Caxton's first three works; the last finished in 1471. Nor has more certain information yet been obtained of the exact period of Caxton's return to his native country.
We are apt to look upon a preface as something dull which may be left unread. But when you come to read Caxton's books, you may perhaps like his prefaces as much as anything else about them. In one he tells of his difficulties about the language, because different people spoke it so differently.
Therefore it would seem that really Caxton's family was "of great repute of old, and genteel-like," as an old manuscript says.* *Harleian MS., 5910. Caxton's master died before he had finished his apprenticeship, so he had to find a new master, and very soon he left England and went to Bruges. There he remained for thirty-five years.
He squirmed through the mass of legs and secured a seat in a window ledge where he could watch the men come in and find seats. As Caxton's one newsboy Sam had got from his newspaper selling both a living and a kind of standing in the town's life. To be a newsboy or a bootblack in a small novel-reading American town is to make a figure in the world.
When such were mentioned in his hearing, he seldom failed to point out how necessary it was to arrest the object of your curiosity in its first transit, and to tell his favourite story of Snuffy Davie and Caxton's Game at Chess. "Davy Wilson," he said, "commonly called Snuffy Davy, from his inveterate addiction to black rappee, was the very prince of scouts for searching blind alleys, cellars, and stalls for rare volumes.
CONTAINING MR. CAXTON's UNAVAILING CAUTION NOT TO BE DULL. "I hope, Pisistratus," said my father, "that you do not intend to be dull?" "Heaven forbid, sir! What could make you ask such a question? Intend! No! if I am dull it is from innocence." "A very long discourse upon knowledge!" said my father; "very long! I should cut it out."
The fashionable school of courtly allegory, first introduced into England by the translation of the Romaunt of the Rose, reached its extremity in Stephen Hawes's Passetyme of Pleasure, printed by Caxton's successor, Wynkyn de Worde, in 1517.
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