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THE LIVES 
 
 OP THE 
 
 BRITISH HISTORIANS 
 
 BT 
 
 EUGENE LAWKENCE 
 
 1 1 
 
 " Namque et Herodotum ilium, qni prinoeps gDO8 hoc onuivit ct, post ilium, cranes Thueydides 
 dusendi artificio, mea sententifi, focile vicit." 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 C. SCKIBNEK, 145 NASSAU ST. 
 
 1855. 
 
M U4- 
 
 
 ENTBEKD according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER, 
 In the Clerk'a Office of the District Court of the U. S. for the Southern District of New York. 
 
 MORSE 
 
 STBPHEN9 
 
 W. H. TINSON, Stereotyper. 
 
 GEORGE RUSSELL A Co. Printers. 
 
THE HON. ALEXANDER W. BRADFORD, 
 
 THE DISTINGUISHED JURIST AND SCHOLAR, 
 
 THIS WORK IS DEDICATED, 
 
 IX TESTIMONY OF THE RESPECT AND AFFECTION OF 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 ? 1.0986 
 

PREFACE, 
 
 HAVING noticed that there was no account, in the language, of the 
 lives of the British Historians, I have been led to publish the following 
 sketches of those eminent men. They have been chiefly composed 
 during the intervals of more severe studies, and I am too conscious of 
 their many imperfections, not to feel great diffidence in offering them to 
 the public. Yet I trust that the interest of the subject may atone for 
 many deficiencies in the execution, and that they will prove not alto- 
 gether unentertaining or uninstructive. 
 
 The Historians, as a class, unlike their more erratic brethren, the 
 Poets, have usually been grave, wise, prudent and virtuous men. Some 
 of them, like Clarendon or Burnet, have taken a large share in the 
 politics of their age, and have left the impress of their peculiar opinions 
 upon the history of their country. Others, like Gibbon and Hume, have 
 been the popular authors of their time, aiding the progress of literature 
 in every land, by an example of unselfish devotion to mental improve- 
 ment. While even the humblest of them have prepared the way, by 
 their researches and inquiries, for the advent of writers of greater 
 genius, and, probably, a Macaulay or a Hume would not be unwilling to 
 confess that they had been considerably indebted to Carte and Rapin. 
 
 In our own country our greatest writers are Historians, and already, 
 in the dawn of our literature, it possesses eminent names in history, 
 worthy to take their place by the side of Robertson and Hume. It is a 
 pleasing trait, too, of the taste of our reading public, that historical 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 productions are so widely patronized, and that the works of our 
 Historians are read with delight by countless numbers of their country- 
 men. 
 
 I am led, therefore, to hope that the following lives of the Elder 
 Historians will not be unacceptable to the taste of the general reader ; 
 while, to the student of History, they may afford a clear and careful 
 review of the progress of the art. They have been composed with care, 
 from the best sources, chiefly with the hope of recalling the memory of 
 a class of great writers who have as yet wanted a biographer, and I 
 propose, should the work be favorably received, to continue the series 
 down to the death of Arnold. 
 
 New York, Nov. 1855. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 THE EARLY HISTORIANS. 
 
 PAQB 
 
 Monkish Records Great rarity of books The library of Oxford Gildas, the earliest 
 of the Historians Bede The Ecclesiastical History Bede, a Reformer His 
 style Merits of Bede Origin of his name Legends Ingulphus of Croyland 
 Jeffrey of Monmouth Matthew Paris Robert Fabian John Speed Sir Richard 
 Baker, 13-30 
 
 SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 
 
 The nature of his intellect His devotional verses His love of nature His ambition 
 and pride Raleigh's appearance Elizabeth sends aid to the Protestants 
 Raleigh in the camp of Coligny His taste in poetry The danger of Elizabeth 
 Raleigh's Discoveries His first attempt to settle America Lord Grey Raleigh 
 and Spenser Raleigh weary of Ireland Elizabeth's weaknesses Raleigh made 
 known to Elizabeth Their first interview Raleigh's peers Sidney and Bacon 
 Elizabeth keeps her courtiers employed The Duke of Anjou Raleigh looks with 
 hope to America He resolves to explore the unknown shores Raleigh's influence 
 on his age The narrative of his captains Nature of the country Narrative of 
 the voyage The discoverer knighted A second expedition Virginia Its dangers 
 The Colonists' return with Sir Francis Drake Tobacco Raleigh's Irish estate 
 The Earl of Leicester Raleigh's unpopularity Taste for Buccaneering Dangers 
 of the early navigators The ocean, the pathway to fame Raleigh's pinnaces 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 They attack a Spanish fleet Raleigh still rising The Island of Roanoke Fate of 
 the City of Raleigh The Armada Robert Devereux Essex's advantages Raleigh 
 and Essex Their rivalry The English attempts to conquer Portugal Fate of the 
 adventurers Spenser in Kilcolman Castle Raleigh urges the publication of the 
 Fairy Queen His verses in its praise Spenser profits by his friendship His pas- 
 torals Raleigh restored to favor Fate of the Revenge Raleigh's narrative of the 
 fight His hatred of Spain Is in disgrace at court His conduct in the Tower 
 His complaints His losses Sir Walter in Parliament Danger from Spain- 
 Raleigh charged with atheism Character of his intellect El Dorado Its allure- 
 ments Hume unable to understand Raleigh El Dorado His design in publishing 
 his narrative Wonders of El Dorado Keymis's voyage to Guiana The expedi- 
 tion to Cadiz Raleigh's conduct towards Essex Raleigh's prudence The attack 
 Raleigh in the Warspite An indecisive contest The dismay of the Spaniards- 
 Destruction of their fleet Raleigh's disappointment Cecil Another expedition 
 against Spain The attack on Fayal Essex wishes to punish Raleigh with death 
 They are reconciled Imprudence of Essex His conduct in Ireland He returns 
 Raleigh dissatisfied Essex plots against the Queen Discovery of the plot 
 Raleigh recommends the execution of Essex Last days of the Queen Her suc- 
 cessor unfriendly to Raleigh Raleigh accused of conspiracy His defence Its 
 completeness Coke's abuse of the prisoner Raleigh and Coke The verdict His 
 letter to hia wife A farewell to life His imprisonment His medical preparation 
 Prince Henry his friend Literature, Raleigh's chief solace His various studies 
 The History of the World Effect of his imprisonment Preface to the History 
 Slow sale of the works His pure English His originality of thought Military 
 experience His metaphysical reasoning A passage from the History Its style 
 and subject Raleigh becomes highly popular The Spaniards anticipate him 
 Raleigh's sincerity His last expedition He returns to die Attempts to escape 
 The approach of death His execution His son Carew The intellect and 
 character of Raleigh The influence of a courtier's life, .... 31-163 
 
 WILLIAM CAMDEN. 
 
 He goes up to London His early love for the old He resolves to write of British 
 antiquities His labors The Britannia Camden's antiquarian friends Spelman 
 and Usher His work does not escape criticism Glover and Leland Camden's 
 various writings His last work The scholars of the age The admiration they 
 excited Their influence Their effect upon the age The veneration once felt for 
 them declines Camden corresponds with De Thou The first British Antiquarian 
 Society Its meetings are suspended Camden's death and funeral He never 
 travelled abroad His patriotic ardor Legendary lore of the Britannia His 
 minute description of England The " Annales rerum anglicarum," . 164-189 
 
CONTENTS. IX 
 
 EDWARD HYDE, EARL OP CLARENDON. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 His estimate of happiness The Hydes Clarendon enters Oxford He marries He 
 is presented to Laud His business increases His literary friends The pros- 
 perity of England Charles calls a Parliament The Long Parliament Falkland 
 His Character Hyde's steady loyalty He joins the King at York He refuses 
 office Is made guardian to the Prince Arthur Lord Capel Hyde in the Isle of 
 Jersey Dissensions among the exiles Hyde in Spain His poverty The restor- 
 ation Anne Hyde, Duchess of York The Queen mother opposes the marriage 
 Clarendon's unpopularity Its causes The Clarendon Gallery Fate of the 
 Palaco and Gallery His friend Evelyn Clarendon's fall draws near His chief 
 crime The people insult the Chancellor Death of his grandchildren His wife 
 dies His friends ad vise him to fly His flight He leaves an address to Parlia- 
 ment His adventures at Evreux Clarendon in exile His family His 
 character, 190-231 
 
 GILBERT BURNET, BISHOP OF SALISBURY. 
 
 Severe strictures on his character His true position His familiarity with kings 
 and courts The remarkable scenes he witnessed His father Burnet studies 
 law But prefers the church He travels He pauses at Amsterdam His parish 
 Episcopacy unpopular in Scotland Charles attempts to introduce it by force 
 Burnet offends the ruling party The Duchess of Hamilton Burnet marries Is 
 introduced to the King Returns to Scotland He settles in London London 
 hostile to the court Persecution in Scotland Burnet as a preacher His argu- 
 ment with Coleman His History of the Reformation He makes a strange 
 convert Attempts the conversion of the King His various works The Rye- 
 house plot Execution of his friend Russell His speech probably written by 
 Burnet Burnet in Paris His wide renown The Duchess de la Valliere He flies 
 to the Continent Persecution of the Protestants Fatal to Louis XIV. Protest- 
 ants never persecutors Burnet at home He visits Geneva William of Orange 
 His Queen James II. enraged Burnet's second wife William Penn William 
 prepares to invade England James unsuspicious The expedition sails Flight 
 of James II. The succession Burnet made Bishop His conduct His consist- 
 ency He returns to literature His third wife His tutorship His devotion to 
 his pupil His retirement His charities The whigs Their fall Literature 
 reigns with Anne Swift Burnet the butt of the day His blunders Parnell's 
 satires Pope and Swift on Burnet The whigs in office His death Halifax 
 writes his character His family Thomas Burnet Burnet's activity His style 
 Swift on Burnet's style Examples of his style Charles II. and William III. 
 Chief defect of his writings Burnet as an orator His liberal principles, . 232-811 
 
 1* 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 THOMAS FULLER. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 The Civil War The Ecclesiastical History His other works, . . . 312-315 
 
 LAURENCE ECHARD. 
 
 His History of England other works, 316-318 
 
 ROBERT BRADY. 
 Brady's History, 3^-820 
 
 JOHN OLDMIXON. 
 Oldmixon's chief works, 321-322 
 
 THOMAS CARTE. 
 
 He goes abroad His History of England Carte's habits and character, . 323-326 
 
 WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 
 
 His love of freedom His appearance Want of materials His father The habits 
 of his youth Robertson's character He is licensed to preach His strong and 
 actiye constitution He enters the General Assembly His liberality He gains 
 influence Defends Home The History of Scotland He goes to London His 
 reception Sells his copyright The History comes out Hume's friendly aid 
 Robertson's political moderation The King proposes to him a subject He was 
 not well fitted for the task History of Charles V. It appears in 1769 Gilbert 
 Stuart Robertson's firmness He still writes History of America His fame 
 spreads abroad His health declines Is always cheerful His oratory Lord 
 Cullen His style not simple He chooses interesting subjects His view-of the 
 state of Europe His pictures History of America Wai pole's opinion of his 
 writings, 327-365 
 
CONTENTS. XI 
 
 GEORGE LORD LYTTLETON. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 His manners Goes to Soissons Pitt and Grenville The cousinhood His 
 literary friends He marries His conversion Political connexions The " Dia- 
 logues of the Dead" His History His labor Its style and subject He is a lead- 
 ing critic His oratory The close of his life His death His literary reputation 
 The character of his works, 366-384. 
 
 TOBIAS SMOLLETT. 
 
 His tragedy Roderick Random Peregrine Pickle He visits Scotland His- 
 tory of England -His travels His old age His nature His poetry The 
 History, 385-395 
 
LIVES OF THE BRITISH HISTORIANS, 
 
 THE EAELY HISTORIANS. 
 
 HISTORY, tlie department of literature which requires 
 most labor and research, has had peculiar charms for 
 Englishmen. Their great historians, unrivalled since the 
 days of Tacitus, have united almost all the highest excel- 
 lences of their art; and both Gibbon and Hume are 
 allowed to be more profound than Yoltaire, more philo- 
 sophical than Guicciardini, more learned than Schiller, 
 and more interesting than the critical Niebuhr. The 
 taste for historical writing has followed the Saxon race 
 in all its wanderings, and the most promising trait of 
 our own literature, is the excellence of its productions 
 in history. 
 
 The long line of British historians, commencing with 
 Gildas, who wrote when the Roman legions had hardly 
 retreated from his unhappy island, and closing with the 
 death of Arnold, I propose to divide into the earlier 
 writers who preceded the age of Elizabeth, and the later, 
 
14 MONKISH RECORDS. 
 
 who succeeded that period. The earlier historians were 
 chiefly monks : it was usual in every monastery to appoint 
 some person to record the ecclesiastical and civil events 
 of the year, and hence arose the monastic taste for his- 
 tory, as well as the chief materials upon which it was 
 employed. The studious monk, weary of monotony, or 
 desirous, like the excellent Bede, to become useful to 
 his age, was accustomed to relate in rude language, 
 and with an amusing ignorance, and unbounded credu- 
 lity, the history of the Saxon and Norman kings. Neces- 
 sarily, these monkish histories have little interest ; they 
 are filled with theological controversy, and the private 
 affairs of the church. Being written in Latin, and in a 
 Latin that no Roman could have understood, they have 
 never made their way into general notice, nor is there 
 anything in their contents that could have gained them 
 any popular favor. They have seldom either method or 
 point, and the ignorant author was content to narrate 
 the facts or fictions afforded him by the monastic records, 
 without discrimination, taste, or thought. 
 
 Yet, in one view, the monkish writers deserve high 
 praise. They wrote under great discouragements, and 
 had no means of improving their taste, or of fostering 
 their love for letters. With books they could have had 
 little acquaintance, for books, in those early ages, were 
 so scarce as to be almost unattainable. They, perhaps, 
 had never seen the works of the classical authors ; they 
 had never read a line of Livy or Cicero, and knew 
 Yirgil only by the rumor of his fame. Their literature 
 
GREAT KAEITY OF BOOKS. 15 
 
 was gleaned from a rare perusal of the vulgate, or from 
 the frequent use of the beautiful services of the church. 
 Warton, in his History of Poetry, and other writers, 
 relate many circumstances which show how inaccessible 
 were books from the eighth to the fifteenth century. 
 
 The libraries of Italy were so totally ruined by the 
 invasions of the Barbarians, that the Popes were often 
 obliged to borrow books from Germany. In France, 
 they were so scantily supplied that, in the ninth century, 
 the abbot of Ferriers sent to Pope Benedict III.,. to beg 
 a copy of Cicero de Officiis, as there was none in all 
 France. At the beginning of the tenth century, copies 
 of the Bible were so rare in Spain, that one copy often 
 served for several monasteries. It was a rule of the 
 English monasteries, in 1072, that the librarians should 
 deliver to each monk one book at the beginning of the 
 year ; and if at its close he had not read it, he was 
 obliged to do penance. The Bishop of Winchester's 
 cathedral library consisted in 129, of seventeen books. 
 This prelate borrowed from the convent of St. S within, 
 a copy of the Bible, in two folio volumes, giving his 
 bond for its safe return. The Bible had lately been 
 bequeathed to the convent, and so valuable was the 
 legacy, that a daily mass was said for the soul of the 
 donor. 
 
 Books in those days were the most costly of posses- 
 sions, yet no price could in fact exceed their value, 
 since they contained the germs of civilization and 
 advancement. In those few manuscripts, so reverenced 
 
16 THE LIBEAEY OF OXFOED. 
 
 and valued, was shut up the great spirit of modern 
 progress. 
 
 But even had the simple monks beheld clearly all 
 the vast results that were to flow from the influence of 
 books, they could not have looked upon them with 
 more reverence than they did out of pure superstition, 
 or for the sake of their rarity. If any person gave a 
 book to a Holy House, he was thought to have deserved 
 salvation. Formidable anathemas were pronounced 
 against any one who should alienate or injure one of these 
 costly possessions. The sale of a book was attended 
 with as many formalities as that of a vast estate. Per- 
 sons of character and importance were invited to wit- 
 ness the transfer ; and a formal record was made of the 
 transaction. In 1225, Roger, Dean of York, gave 
 several Latin bibles to Oxford, with a condition that 
 the student, who borrowed one of them, should deposit 
 a pledge for its safe return. Oxford, the centre of 
 English learning, possessed, in the fourteenth century, a 
 library consisting of a few tracts chained to the wall, 
 or kept in the chancel of St. Mary's church ; and even 
 so late as the middle of the fifteenth, it was ordered by 
 a statute of St. Mary's College, that no student should 
 use a book longer than an hour or two at most, so that 
 all might profit by the scanty collection. In France, 
 at the opening of the fourteenth century, the royal 
 library of Paris contained but four classics, one copy 
 each of Cicero, Ovid, Lucan, and Boethius. 
 
 Books therefore, the first want of the author, were 
 
GILDAS, THE EARLIEST OF THE HISTORIANS. 17 
 
 almost inaccessible to the Anglican historian : lie was 
 isolated from communion with other minds, and to him 
 all the great masters of literature had written in vain. 
 He might by rare favor, and at distant intervals, glance 
 over a few pages of Cicero or Lucan in the library of 
 some wealthy earl or liberal prince, but even kings in 
 those days, could scarcely afford to purchase those 
 books, which are now the common possession of the 
 poorest. It is no wonder, therefore, that the monkish 
 writers were usually deficient in taste, and becomes the 
 more wonderful that Bede, and several of his successors, 
 should have attained such wide information and so 
 clear a style. 
 
 The earliest of the historians, Gildas, said to have been 
 monk of Bangor, wrote about the middle of the sixth 
 century. He had seen the last Roman legion retreat 
 from England, and must have witnessed the sudden 
 ruin that fell upon his country from the inroads of 
 the German invaders. Under the Romans, England 
 had shared in the general civilization of the empire ; 
 its people had imitated the luxury of the capital, and 
 had no doubt made much progress in mental and social 
 refinement. The baths, the houses, the Mosaic pave- 
 ments, the jewels, and the coins of Kome had been 
 copied by the distant provincials ; and the ancient 
 Britons, like the people of Gaul and Spain, must have 
 imbibed the literature and manners of their conquerors. 
 But they were now once more to be plunged into a new 
 barbarism. The Germans, who had wholly escaped the 
 
18 BEDE. 
 
 influence of Roman civilization, poured into the island, 
 and by their tyranny towards the natives, and their violent 
 wars and dissensions with each other, completed the 
 misery of England. Of this event Gildas had been a 
 spectator, and his famous letter, the first English histo- 
 rical work, is entitled " Of the Euin of Britain." It is 
 divided into two parts, in the first of which the author 
 reproaches the British nobility for their vices and 
 dissensions which have led to this melancholy result, 
 and gives a short narrative of the events of the contest. 
 In the second, he laments over the immorality and 
 degeneracy of the clergy, the chief cause, he alleges, of 
 the judgment with which heaven has visited his country. 
 
 Gildas has left behind him this single production. It 
 can hardly rank with history, yet it is a remarkable 
 and a methodical work, and it obtains a strong interest 
 for every Anglo-Saxon reader, when we remember that 
 it was written while the great race, to which we belong, 
 was just struggling into being. 
 
 The next century produced a greater name. Bede, the 
 venerable, has been claimed by both England and Italy, 
 but there is no doubt that he was born in 672, near 
 "Wearmouth, in the diocese of Durham, in England, and 
 was educated at the monastery of St. Paul, near the 
 mouth of the river Tyne. Here he soon made himself 
 observed by his piety and his application to study : he 
 was ordained a deacon at nineteen, and a priest at thirty. 
 The fame of his learning having spread over all Europe, 
 Pope Sergius invited him to Rome to aid by his 
 
THE ECCLESIASTOAL HISTORY. 19 
 
 counsels, in the government of the church. But Bede pre- 
 ferred to remain in his peaceful cell, devoted to litera- 
 ture, and happily engaged in instructing the young 
 monks of his monastery. 
 
 ISTo man was ever more thoroughly an author than 
 Bede. Erom youth to age he was incessantly occupied 
 with his writings. It was said of him that he passed 
 from his prayers to his studies, and from his studies to 
 his prayers. The result of this life of labor was a vast 
 number of works, upon a wide range of subjects, 
 embracing the whole learning of his time. It would be 
 tedious even to name all his productions, and I can only 
 offer a few examples of their subjects. He wrote "Four 
 Books of Philosophy," Of the Substance of the Ele- 
 ments," a " Martyrology," a description of Solomon's 
 Temple, besides works upon Grammar, Arithmetic, 
 Chronology, and similar topics, for the use of his pupils 
 in literature. 
 
 His great work, the " Ecclesiastical History of Eng- 
 land," by which he has gained a lasting fame, was not 
 published until a few years before his death. Notwith- 
 standing its absurd legends, this is an astonishing pro- 
 duction for an age when so few materials existed for a 
 learned research. It was looked upon, until long after 
 the Norman conquest, as the glory and the wonder of 
 English literature; and, even as late as the reign of 
 Henry YIIL, England had produced no writer who 
 could rival the learning or the vigorous diction of the 
 Saxon monk. 
 
20 BEDE A EEFOEMEE. 
 
 Bede was not only a writer, but a philanthropist and 
 a reformer. He desired to restore the church to its 
 primitive simplicity, which, even in that rude age, 
 seems to have long since departed : he wrote a letter to 
 his friend Egbert, Bishop of York, a relative of the royal 
 family, and a man noted for his liberal views and wise 
 policy, to obtain his sympathy in the movement. He 
 points out to Egbert that the monasteries are filled with 
 the immoral and the dissolute ; that the number of these 
 institutions was rapidly increasing, and threatened to 
 swallow up in their vast possessions all the arable land 
 of the kingdom: he complains that the great nobles 
 make their children abbots and abbesses, without any 
 proper preparation, and long before they have arrived 
 at the lawful age ; and he recommends as the only cure 
 for these pressing evils, the assembling of a synod to 
 consider the state of the church. "When this letter was 
 written Bede was in a decline : he did not live to carry 
 out his reforms, but died May, Y35, aged sixty-three. 
 
 His body was laid in the church of the monastery of 
 Tarrow, and so sacred was his tomb, in the opinion of 
 his countrymen, that thousands flocked thither every 
 year to pray over his ashes. His life had been one of 
 singular purity, and amid the general corruption of a 
 barbarous age, he might well be invested with superna- 
 tural sanctity. 
 
 His love for study ceased only with his life. It is 
 related that on the night of his death, as he was dictating 
 certain passages from St. Isidore, the young monk who 
 
HIS STYLE. 21 
 
 wrote for him said to him that but one chapter remained, 
 and begged him, as he seemed to have great difficulty 
 in speaking, to leave it for another time. " No," replied 
 Bede, "take a new pen, and write as fast as you are 
 able." "When there remained but one passage more to 
 be translated, Bede urged him to hasten, and soon the 
 young man said to him, "It is done." "You speak 
 truly," answered Bede. " It is done ;" and some minutes 
 afterwards expired. 
 
 His Latin style is clear and strong, although neces- 
 sarily far from correct, and he writes with an easy flow 
 of thought that fixes the attention of the reader. He 
 had apparently good natural sense, as well as great 
 learning, although he indulges in many strange fancies 
 upon theological subjects. His account of Joseph, 
 Mary's husband, whom he asserts to have been a 
 farmer, and his particular description of each of the 
 three wise men who came to worship the infant Saviour, 
 are novel and amusing. The elder of the Magi, whom 
 he calls Melchior, had, Bede tells us, grey hair, and a 
 long beard, and offered gold to the Saviour in acknow- 
 ledgment of his sovereignty. Gasper, the second, was 
 younger, had no beard, and offered frankincense in 
 confession of his divinity ; while Balthasar, the third, 
 was of a dark complexion, wore a long beard, and 
 offered myrrh to the Christ, a type of his humanity. 
 He then describes minutely their dress, having perhaps 
 borrowed his description from some ancient picture. 
 He delights in the supernatural, and although possess- 
 
22 MERITS OF BEDE. 
 
 ing excellent common sense upon all other subjects, 
 seldom fails to lose it wholly when treating of theology. 
 
 His writings have been greatly admired by the 
 English of every age, and, perhaps, too much decried 
 by the French critics. Camden calls him. " the singular 
 light of our island, whom we may more easily admire 
 than successfully praise." Leland commemorates him as 
 " the glory and chief ornament of England." In oppo- 
 sition to this extravagant praise, the French have 
 ridiculed his credulity, and undervalued his monastic 
 lore. 
 
 But the eminent merit of Bede as an author has been 
 proved by the extent and permanence of his fame. 
 Arising from the gloom of a dark age, he is still con- 
 sidered one of the most illustrious of the learned men of 
 England. He was the first of her men of letters : and 
 cultivated literature at a time, when, except among the 
 Saracens, the love of learning had apparently died out. 
 He gained an European celebrity, such as no author 
 since the time of Augustus had possessed : his example 
 served to cherish among his countrymen a love for 
 letters, and his assiduous teaching diffused the litera- 
 ture which he had cultivated. By these efforts, as well 
 as by his educational books, his grammars, arithmetics, 
 and other useful compilations, he must have done great 
 good, and have elevated the mind of many a young 
 monk above the sensuality and superstition in which his 
 companions were plunged. His various translations 
 made his countrymen acquainted with works which 
 
ORIGIN OF HIS NAME. 23 
 
 otherwise might have remained inaccessible to them, 
 while his rendering of the Bible into early English 
 made them familiar with sacred truth. The amiable 
 and philosophic King Alfred was a diligent student of 
 the writings of Bede, and became the translator of his 
 Ecclesiastical History ; and it is not unlikely that, with- 
 out the influence of the learned monk, Alfred might have 
 remained as rude and uncultivated as his ancestors. 
 
 Bede is always called the " venerable," a name, the 
 origin of which, his admirers have variously explained. 
 It is said that he was held in such veneration by his 
 contemporaries, that his homilies were ordered to be 
 read in every church, as a part of the service : but, in 
 announcing the lecture, an embarrassment occurred as 
 to what title was to be given to the author ; that of Saint 
 could not apply to a living man his name without 
 some mark of distinction would appear too bare, and 
 the title of venerable was therefore invented and uni- 
 versally applied. This explanation, however, would 
 not satisfy the monks, who have added the following 
 miracle. " Bede," they relate, " being blind from age 
 (though he was not very old when he died, and was 
 never blind), a young monk, one day having led him in 
 a rocky place, where there were many stones lying 
 around, told him, in sport, that he was surrounded by a 
 crowd of people, who waited in silence to receive his 
 exhortation. The good father, having made them a 
 long address, ended with a prayer, to which, to the 
 surprise of his companions, the stones respectfully 
 
24: LEGENDS. 
 
 added, ' Amen, venerable Bede.' ' There is another 
 version. A monk, little skilled in the poetic art, was 
 engaged in writing Bede's epitaph. He could only 
 compose these imperfect lines : " Hac sunt in fossa 
 
 Bedae ossa." Having vainly labored to fill up the 
 
 blank, overcome with weariness, he lay down and fell 
 asleep. But on the morn in looking over his work, he 
 was astonished to find his doggerel completed as 
 follows : 
 
 Hac sunt in fossa 
 Bedae venerabilis ossa. 
 
 The name, however attained, was certainly well 
 deserved. Few men have been more truly .venerable 
 than the good Saxon monk, and English historians may 
 well exult that the first of their race was the pure, 
 learned, and venerable Bede. 
 
 "No remarkable historical writer succeeded Bede, until 
 after the Conquest, when Ingulphus, of Croyland, com- 
 posed a history of his own monastery, in which he was 
 naturally led to introduce something of the civil history 
 of the country. He was born at London, in the year 
 1030. His father being attached to the court of Edward 
 the Confessor, introduced him to Queen Editha, with 
 whom he had frequent interviews. The intercourse be- 
 tween the Saxon and the Norman courts was then unre- 
 strained, and it was common for Englishmen to visit, in 
 a friendly manner, the land of their future conquerors. 
 Ingulphus came to Normandy when he was about; 
 twenty-one, and was made Secretary to Duke "William. 
 
LNGULPHUS OF CROYLAND. 25 
 
 Afterwards lie attended a party of noble pilgrims on a 
 visit to the Holy Land, and on his return, entered a 
 monastery of Benedictines, in Normandy, of which he 
 soon became the prior : a visit to court, a pilgrimage, 
 and a monastery, being the fashionable career of a tal- 
 ented clergyman in the time of the Conqueror. When 
 William became king of England, he sent for his former 
 secretary, and made him Abbot of Croyland, in Leices- 
 tershire. Ingulphus seems to have made an excellent 
 abbot. He rebuilt his monastery, which had been burnt 
 by the Danes, obtained for it new privileges from the 
 king, and employed the close of his life in composing its 
 history. This work has preserved his name to posterity. 
 It is not favorable to the party of the conquered Saxons, 
 and palliates the crimes of the Conqueror. Yet Ingul- 
 phus was evidently a man of ability, skilled in the old 
 philosophy, industrious, learned and ingenious. His 
 chronicle begins with the year 626, in the reign of the 
 Saxon, Penda, and ends with the third year of William 
 Eufus. He died 1109. 
 
 In the twelfth century, Baronius, a monk of Worces- 
 ter, succeeded Ingulphus, and after him followed Ead- 
 merus, a Canterbury monk. To him succeeded the more 
 famous William of Malmesbury, who wrote the history 
 of England, in seven books, from the landing of the 
 Saxons, to the reign of King Stephen. He was a man 
 of learning and judgment, and no friend to the govern- 
 ment of the usurper who had seized upon the throne of 
 Queen Matilda. 
 
 2 
 
26 JEFFEEY OF MONMOUTII. 
 
 Jeffrey of Monmouth, tlie Livy of the monkish histo- 
 rians, lived also in this reign. He delighted in romantic 
 lore, and filled his history of the Britons with legends 
 that even yet are entertaining ; he related the chivalrous 
 feats of King Arthur, and professed a full belief in the 
 prophecies of Merlin ; and he produced a catalogue of 
 more than seventy kings who had 'reigned over England 
 before the landing of Caesar. His style is clear and 
 simple, his narrative told in an effective manner, while 
 his authenticity has found such eminent supporters as 
 Leland and Usher. Simeon Dunelmensis and Henry of 
 Huntington, two well read monks, wrote about the same 
 period. William of ISTewberry, so called from his favor- 
 ite monastery, composed a history of the English, from 
 the death of Henry I. to the year 1097. He amused 
 himself by detecting and ridiculing the improbable tales 
 of Jeffrey of Monmouth. 
 
 From the thirteenth century we have the fragment of 
 a history written by Gervase, a monk of Canterbury, 
 and at the same time, lived Roger de Hoveden, and 
 Ralph de Diceto, Dean of London, both historical 
 writers. But a more eminent name distinguishes the 
 same era. 
 
 Matthew Paris, born in the commencement of the 
 thirteenth century, took the religious habit in 1217, at 
 the monastery of St. Albans. Poet, orator, and theolo- 
 gian, he also understood painting and architecture, and 
 was skilled in mechanics. His versatile genius illu- 
 mines the gloom of a monastic age : he was a man of 
 
MATTHEW PARIS. 27 
 
 rare probity and virtue, devoted to Ms country, and 
 perhaps, in Ms writings, too intolerant towards its 
 enemies. He was zealous like Bede in reforming the 
 monasteries, and in bringing back the ancient church 
 discipline in its austerity. He also encouraged educa- 
 tion, having obtained through his influence with Henry 
 III. many privileges and advantages for the University 
 of Oxford. He died in 1259. His "Historia Major 
 Angliarum," the best known of his works, contains the 
 history of England from the Conquest to the forty-third 
 year of Henry III. It is a work, for that age, of singu- 
 lar boldness and liberality ; it maintains the rights of 
 the English church and people against the growing 
 encroachment of the papal power, and relates and 
 applauds the efforts of those of the kings of England 
 who have striven to diminish, the influence of the court 
 of Rome. The style is clear, and the Latin remarkably 
 pure for that uncultivated age. 
 
 History, during the next two centuries, languished. 
 There was no want of monjdsh writers, but they had 
 little of the spirit of Bede, or of Matthew Paris. 
 Trivet, Higden, Hemmingford, and their successors, 
 hardly deserve to be commemorated. The monastery 
 of St. Albans, however, the memorable centre of 
 mediseval histori-cal research, still continued to deserve 
 its fame. Walsingham, one of its monks, and, perhaps, 
 regius professor of history, wrote a brief narrative 
 commencing with the close of the reign of Henry IH. 
 and ending with that of Henry Y. William Caxton, 
 
28 ROBERT FABIAN. 
 
 also, who, with great labor and expense, introduced 
 printing into England, wrote about this time, though 
 with but inferior talents. His " Fructus Temporum " 
 was simply the continuation of a Chronicle written by 
 the monks of St. Albans. 
 
 In the sixteenth century history left the shelter of the 
 monastery to assume a more original form, and, with 
 the Reformation, appeared a new race of historians. 
 A little in advance of these, but evidently of the new 
 order, was Robert Fabian, a merchant of London, and 
 some years its sheriff. This learned merchant was a 
 poet and a scholar as well an historian. He wrote the 
 history of England from the time of Brutus to the reign 
 of Henry YII. His remarks iipon the enormous reve- 
 nues of the clergy were so free, that Cardinal Wolsey 
 seized and destroyed all the copies of the work that 
 came in his way. Edward Hall, Recorder, of London, 
 followed Fabian, and wrote an entertaining account of 
 the wars of York and Lancaster ; he describes minutely 
 the manner, dress, and appearance of the English of 
 those troubled times. 
 
 The unhappy antiquary, John Stow, adorned and dis- 
 honored the close of the sixteenth century. He was 
 born in Cornhill, London, in 1523, and was brought up 
 to his father's occupation, who was a tailor. A passion 
 for antiquities, however, soon allured him from his 
 trade. He studied with intense labor, and travelled 
 through a large part of England in search of manu- 
 script histories in the libraries of the cathedral 
 
JOHN SPEED. 29 
 
 churches. His first work, a "Summary of English. 
 History from the time of Brute," was published in 
 1573. In 1598 appeared his " Survey of London," a 
 work of wonderful labor and research, containing the 
 origin, antiquities, and history of his native city. He 
 had long been occupied with an extensive history of 
 England, of which his " Summary " was only an 
 abridgment, but could find no publisher willing to 
 bring out so costly a work. He therefore printed in 
 1600, a new abridgment of this history, the "Flores 
 Historiarum," more extended than the " Summary," 
 but yet far from fulfilling the vast designs of the 
 author. 
 
 His old age was oppressed by ill-health and poverty. 
 The king gave him a brief to solicit contributions, but 
 gave him nothing more. Camden, who purchased some 
 of his manuscripts, allowed him an annuity of eight 
 pounds. But to the dishonor of the age, this excellent 
 and laborious historian, this fearless and honest writer, 
 died at the age of eighty, in extreme penury. Bettei 
 perhaps had he remained a tailor than to have met no 
 kinder treatment as an historian. 
 
 John Speed, another tailor by profession, and of no 
 little skill and renown in his art, undeterred by the mis- 
 fortunes of his predecessor, abandoned the goose to 
 become a celebrated writer. He wrote the history of 
 Great Britain during the conquests of the Romans, 
 Saxons, Danes, and Normans ; a work which was hailed 
 by Sir Henry Spelman with a copy of verses, and was 
 esteemed by all the learned men of the age. Speed 
 
30 SIR EICHAED BAKEE. 
 
 was born in 1553, and died in 1629. He had eighteen 
 children, and was certainly, in every way, the most 
 famous of tailors. 
 
 Sir Richard Baker, a renowned antiquarian and 
 historian, of the time of James I. was of good family, 
 was educated at Oxford, and possessed a considerable 
 estate. He wrote the history of England from the 
 Homan conquest to the close of the reign of James I. : 
 his learning was great and his abilities remarkable. 
 But his end was unhappy. Having married a daughter 
 of Sir George Mainwaring, of Shropshire, he became 
 surety for a member of her family, lost his estate, and 
 was cast into prison, where he died in 1645. 
 
 With this author I shall close my sketch of the early 
 historians. As writers, with but one or two exceptions, 
 they have no claim to the notice of the reader, and the 
 few particulars which are told us, render their biogra- 
 phies tame and uninviting. It would have been highly 
 entertaining could we have entered more closely into 
 their private life could we have watched with Gildas, 
 from the walls of his monastery, the flight of the Picts 
 before the German invaders, or the slow march of the 
 .Roman legions as they abandoned for ever the conquests 
 of Csesar; could we have studied the daily life of the 
 venerable Bede, or joined Ingulphus in his visit to the 
 court of Duke "William, and travelled with his noble 
 party on their fashionable pilgrimage. But all such 
 particulars are lost ; and of the early writers we have 
 little more than their names, and their rude historical 
 works, which have preserved them from oblivion. 
 
SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 
 
 SIR WALTER RALEIGH was born in 1552, a year re- 
 markable, says the ancient chronicler, for the execution 
 of Seymour, Duke of Somerset, and for a shoal of huge 
 fish which made their way far up the Thames, events 
 which were supposed to be prophetic of the adventures 
 and fate of the great discoverer. He was descended 
 from an ancient family, and his mother, a woman of 
 remarkable ability, had already, by a former marriage, 
 given birth to the three Gilberts, men whose taste for 
 maritime adventure had no little share in forming the 
 character of Raleigh. Nothing is told of his childhood. 
 In his sixteenth year he entered Oriel College, Oxford, 
 where he was known as a brilliant scholar, particularly 
 in oratory and philosophy. From thence he went to the 
 Temple, but probably paid but little attention to the law, 
 since on his trial he asserted that he had never read a 
 single statute ; while he could have scarcely been eigh- 
 teen when he began his military career. 
 
 Although we have so few particulars of his early life, 
 it is not difficult to form some conception of the pursuits 
 
32 THE NATURE OF HIS INTELLECT. 
 
 and amusements of his studious youth. The love for 
 study, which so marked his later years, began no doubt 
 with his first appearance at College and in the Temple. 
 His mind was by nature speculative and inquisitive ; he 
 delighted in the abstruse inquiries of the schoolmen, and 
 in every species of philosophical research which was 
 cultivated before the advent of Bacon ; and it is not 
 unlikely that the germs of those curious theories which 
 embarrass the reader of the History of the World were 
 suggested during his early seclusion at Oriel College. 
 That he was also known among his young companions 
 for a rare and convincing eloquence, that his fertile and 
 well-stored intellect was capable of being brought into 
 ready action, and that his fine figure and graceful car- 
 riage gave him much of the physical influence of the 
 orator we may readily believe. But in addition to these 
 peculiar gifts, Raleigh possessed the higher instincts of 
 the poet. His mind seems to have dwelt incessantly 
 upon the two noblest themes of the poet's art, religion 
 and love. 
 
 In his religious feelings, if we may judge them by 
 their poetical expression, he inclined towards those 
 stricter views which the party of the puritans were grad- 
 ually infusing into the intellect of the age. His verses 
 teem with expressions of self humiliation, of contempt for 
 the outward glories of the world, and of a desire to fall 
 into a perfect communion with the Deity. JSTo Bunyan or 
 Baxter ever composed hymns more justly unfolding the 
 purest aspirations of Christianity than do several of these 
 
HIS DEVOTIONAL VERSES. 33 
 
 devotional lyrics of the worldly Kaleigh.* It is through 
 them that we gain a clearer insight into his peculiar 
 character and discover that while madly engaged in a 
 strife for wealth and power and the triumphs of the world, 
 he was in secret sighing for that inward peace whieh 
 flows only from their complete renunciation. 
 
 These religious poems are constantly .produced from 
 the beginning to the close of his life. His " Pilgrimage," 
 supposed to have been written between his sentence and 
 his execution, pursues the same strain of confident trust 
 
 * One of his hymns is as follows : 
 
 Rise, oh my soul, with thy desires to Heaven, 
 
 And with Divinest contemplations use 
 Thy time when Time's eternity is given, 
 
 And let vain thoughts no more thy thought abuse. 
 To thee, oh Jesus, I direct my eyes, 
 
 To thee my hands, to thee my humble knees, 
 To thee my heart shall offer sacrifice, 
 
 To thee my thought, who my thought only sees. 
 To thee myself, myself and all I give. 
 To thee I die, to thee I only live. 
 
 See the collection of Raleigh's poems by Sir Egerton Bridges. 
 
 The following from a dialogue between God and the Soul will also give some concep- 
 tion of the depth and truth of his religious impressions. He writes : 
 
 SOUL. 
 
 But Lord, what if I turn again, 
 And with an adamantine chain, 
 Lock me to thee ? What if I chase 
 The world away to give thee place. 
 
 Then though the souls in whom I joy 
 Are Seraphims then but a toy 
 A foolish toy, yet once more I 
 Would with thee live and for thee die. 
 
34: HIS LOVE OF NATUKE. 
 
 in faith and the hope of salvation.* And the " Fare- 
 well," also attributed to this period of humiliation and 
 despair, dwells upon the same consoling theme. An 
 opinion has long prevailed that Raleigh was a skeptic, 
 ne of the earliest of the school in England, and Hume 
 with secret triumph claims him as a friend to free 
 thinking. But these hymns and poems, speaking as 
 they must have done the inmost impulses of his nature, 
 show him to have belonged to the class of practical, 
 rather than theoretical, unbelievers. 
 
 His youthful verses, too, are often upon the common 
 theme of poets, love, and when writing upon this topic 
 his thoughts seem to flow more easily and melodiously 
 than when expressing the higher aspirations of faith. 
 His verse softens, his images are finer, and his language 
 pleases by its naturalness and ease.f He loved nature 
 
 * Give me my scallop shell of quiet, 
 My staff of faith to walk upon, 
 My scrip of joy, immortal diet, 
 My bottle of salvation, 
 My gown of glory (Hope's true gage), 
 And then I'll take my pilgrimage. 
 
 t In his " Country Recreations" he writes as follows : 
 Abused mortals, did you know 
 Where joy, heart's ease, and comfort grow, 
 
 You'd scorn proud towers, 
 
 And seek them in the bowers, 
 
 Where winds sometimes our woods perhaps may shake, 
 But blustering care could never make. 
 
 Nor murmurs e'er come nigh us, 
 
 Saving of fountains that glide by us. 
 
 Blest silent groves ? Oh, may ye be 
 Forever thought's best nursery, 
 
HIS AMBITION AND PEIDE. 35 
 
 and the scenes of rustic life, amid all the pomp and arti- 
 ficial splendor of the court, and his mind recalls with 
 delight the images of simple contentment, and seems to 
 lament continually the exchange which he had made of 
 quiet pleasures, a pure conscience, and an assured faith, 
 for the uncertain, restless and weary existence of the 
 courtier. 
 
 With all these higher elements of character, Raleigh 
 joined a violent ambition, a stern pride, and an unbound- 
 ed passion for renown. These latter passions, fostered 
 by the circumstances amid which he was thrown, soon 
 overmastered his religious and poetical impulses, and 
 drove him from that calm haven of rest which his 
 fancy dwelt upon so fondly in moments of reflection, to 
 take part in the most active and least scrupulous move- 
 ments of the time. He became a soldier, fearless, 
 cruel, and unsparing ; a courtier intriguing, dark, 
 
 . May pure contents, 
 
 Forever pitch their tents 
 
 Upon these downs, these meads, these rocks, these mountains, 
 And peace still slumber by these passing fountains. 
 
 The thought in the following verses, and the flow of the rhythm, show the spirit of a 
 true poet : 
 
 Passions are likened but to floods and streams, 
 
 The shallow murmur but the deep are dumb ; 
 So when affections yield discourse, it seems 
 
 The bottom is but shallow whence they come. 
 
 They that are rich in words must needs discover 
 
 They are but poor in that which makes a lover. 
 Wrong not, sweet mistress of my heart, 
 
 The merit of true passion, 
 With thinking that he feels no smart, 
 
 Who sues for no compassion. 
 
36 RALEIGH'S APPEARANCE. 
 
 revengeful; a buccaneer who pursued his prey with 
 as little remorse of conscience as a Kid or a Morgan : 
 
 O / 
 
 and it is easy to imagine that amid the storms of violent 
 passion which so incessantly agitated his breast, his 
 life could never have been happy, and that he must 
 often have recurred with a bitter pang to the sense of 
 what it might have been had^ he lived true to the purer 
 and better part of his nature. 
 
 Raleigh, in his youth as well as in later years, pos- 
 sessed a fine form, a commanding appearance, a frame 
 accustomed to exercise, and accomplished in all manly 
 pursuits. He was fond of labor, activity, and enterprise. 
 To the highest intellectual advantage, therefore, Haleigh 
 added all those physical qualities which attract the 
 admiration, of the multitude, and contribute so largely 
 to success in the struggle for distinction. Nature had 
 already marked him as one of her peculiar favorites, 
 and it is easy to conceive, that as he surveyed his own 
 personal advantages, and felt a proud consciousness of 
 his own superiority, his ambition even in early youth 
 was fired, his self-reliance grew strong, and that he 
 resolved to play no common part among the great 
 events that were passing around him. 
 
 It was now the most brilliant period of the Eliza- 
 bethan era. That energetic queen had already given a 
 new impulse to British intellect, and had elevated her 
 narrow island kingdom to a place in the politics of 
 Europe such as it had never held before. Her daring 
 policy called forth all the energies of her subjects and 
 
ELIZABETH SENDS AID TO THE PKOTESTANTS. 37 
 
 her example inspired them with a stern self-reliance 
 that became the source of all their unrivalled achieve- 
 ments. 
 
 The period in which she reigned was favorable for 
 the display of Elizabeth's uncommon abilities. Pro- 
 testantism, upon the continent, heretofore neglected or 
 despised, was now everywhere persecuted and op- 
 pressed. Its adherents had risen against their oppres- 
 sors. In France a fierce contest was raging in -which 
 the Protestants had succeeded in baffling all the 
 attempts of their opponents to subdue or exterminate 
 them. In Germany and the Netherlands a similar 
 contest had arisen, and the Reformers of Europe natu- 
 rally turned for sympathy and aid to that virgin Queen 
 who, in her youth, had herself experienced all the 
 violence and cruelty of the rival sect. Endangered at 
 home by the intrigues of the Catholics and their foreign 
 abettors, Elizabeth listened with pleasure to the appeal 
 of the foreign Reformers, and had resolved by fostering 
 the growth of religious freedom abroad, to give suffi- 
 cient employment to the kings of France and Spain in 
 their own dominions. She sent soldiers and money to 
 the Protestant leaders, whenever they seemed to require 
 aid ; and although always frugal and prudent, rendered 
 them effectual support. Her people were soon inspired 
 by her unflinching spirit, and England began to pro- 
 duce heroes and statesmen worthy of their queen. 
 
 Entering life at such a crisis, when the safety, and the 
 defence of the nation called for the aid of all its bravest 
 
38 RALEIGH IN THE CAMP OF COLIGNY. 
 
 spirits, Raleigh, naturally looked for preferment to a 
 military career. Born with little besides gentle birth 
 and natural advantages to aid him in the struggle for 
 advancement, he had apparently no other choice. His 
 family was poor although ancient, and Raleigh, a fourth 
 son, could expect but little from the decayed estates of 
 his knightly ancestors. He seized, therefore, an oppor- 
 tunity of distinction offered by the expedition in aid of 
 the Queen of Navarre, and joined the hundred gentle- 
 men who, with their followers, set out for France to take 
 part in the wars of the League. English, valor was 
 appreciated on the continent, and the recruits were 
 received with, great joy by the struggling Protestants. 
 Here, in the camp of the Huguenots under Cond6 and 
 Coligny, Raleigh passed five years of his youth. Noth- 
 ing is recorded of this period. He no doubt learned 
 much of the world, and something from books, since he 
 afterwards showed a wide acquaintance with both. Nor 
 is it likely that so active an intellect, at a period when 
 the mind is usually most busy, could have viewed the 
 new scenes into which it was thrown without much last- 
 ing profit. It is said that he was in Paris at the mas- 
 sacre of St. Bartholomew, and narrowly escaped by 
 taking refuge with the British Ambassador. 
 
 Soon after he returned to England, and for a time his 
 active mind seems to have sought repose. He took 
 rooms in the Middle Temple, and resigned himself to 
 love and poetry. His early verses are the only record 
 of this portion of his life. They have chiefly an amor- 
 
HIS TASTES W POETRY. 39 
 
 ous turn and savor something of that grace and license 
 which mark the French writers of the period. His 
 taste was already well trained ; he wrote with smooth 
 and accurate rhythm, his fancy teemed with the fairest 
 images of nature. These traits show that he had long 
 studied and practised poetry ; and that often during the 
 idle hours of camp life, while following the banner of 
 Coligny, he had beguiled the tedious interval by culti- 
 vating his poetical talent. It is not likely that Raleigh 
 could ever become a great poet, since he was wholly 
 wanting in sensibility. His feelings were never deep 
 nor strong. But he was peculiarly imaginative. From 
 youth to age, he was always influenced by some bright 
 vision playing before his mind, which promised some 
 sudden accession of fame, or wealth, or happiness. Per- 
 haps in his earlier hours he pleased himself with the 
 dream of excelling in poetry, and of assuming that place 
 in English literature, which afterwards fell to the lot of 
 his friend Edmund Spenser. 
 
 But the pause in his active life was short. He was 
 born to handle the battle-axe rather than the lyre. His 
 dream of love and poetry was broken by the clamor of 
 the trumpet. Elizabeth having given effectual aid to 
 French Protestants, now prepared to sustain the 
 Reformers in the Netherlands. She felt that she could 
 not better secure her own safety, than by employing 
 the Spaniards in their own territories. The Dutch were 
 valiantly fighting for their lives against the enormous 
 resources of Phillip II. Should they fall, but a narrow 
 
40 THE DANGEK OF ELIZABETH. 
 
 sea would separate Protestant England from the rack, 
 the inquisition, and the avenging armies of Spain. A per- 
 sonal feeling, too, mingled with Elizabeth's policy. Mary 
 of Scotland was her prisoner. The fate of the fallen 
 queen had won the sympathy of Catholic Europe. In 
 all their designs against England, the Catholic rulers 
 were stimulated by the danger of one of their own 
 order, a prisoner in the power of her heretic rival. The 
 stern character of Elizabeth assured them that the life 
 of Mary was not safe. Her crimes were forgotten in her 
 imminent peril. She became to many Catholics an 
 object of chivalrous affection and veneration. Don 
 John of Austria, the son of Charles Y. was now Spanish 
 governor of the Netherlands. His military achieve- 
 ments, his haughtiness, cruelty and bigotry, had made 
 his name hateful and terrible to Protestants. Don John 
 espoused the cause of Mary. He declared his intention 
 to lead his army into England, and having rescued the 
 imprisoned queen, to marry her and seat himself upon 
 the throne. The rumor of his design reached the ears 
 of Elizabeth. It had two effects. It hastened the 
 death of Mary, and secured the freedom of the Nether- 
 lands. 
 
 Elizabeth furnished the Dutch with men and money. 
 Raleigh went with these forces to Holland in 1577. He 
 was once again to fight on the side of the Reformers, 
 and here in the struggle with Spanish cruelty and 
 tyranny, he learned that hostility to Spain which was 
 the source of his most renowned exploits. At the battle 
 
RALEIGH A DISCOVERER. 41 
 
 of Rimenant, where Don John was defeated, the English 
 and Scotch troops came late upon the field. As they 
 arrived weary with marching and overpowered by heat, 
 they flung aside their armor, and even their dress, and 
 rushed almost naked upon the foe. Tims Raleigh 
 studied the art of war on the great fields of the conti- 
 nent. After two years of service he returned to Eng- 
 land. A new impulse was beginning to move the minds 
 of his countrymen, the spirit of discovery. 
 
 Raleigh had all the elements of a discoverer. He 
 was poor, adventurous, fearless. His poetical tempera- 
 ment glowed at the thought of a new world to conquer, 
 and his bold fancy filled its unknown depths with popu- 
 lous and wealthy empires, with mines of gold and cities 
 adorned with streets of silver. He had evidently been 
 a diligent reader of those marvellous books of travel 
 which amused and startled the credulity of the age. 
 In his history of the world he makes use of several 
 narratives of distant voyages, and even places some 
 faith in Sir John Mandeville. His knowledge of the 
 exploits of Cortes and Pizarro was full and accurate. 
 Over their marvellous achievements he seems to have 
 pondered unceasingly, until it became one leading 
 purpose of his life to discover a second Mexico amid 
 the wilderness of America. 
 
 His step-brothers, the two Gilberts, were famous 
 mariners. Sir Humphrey had obtained a patent for 
 planting and possessing certain northern parts of Ame- 
 rica above the 25th degree. The coast from Florida 
 
42 HIS FIKST ATTEMPT TO SETTLE AMERICA. 
 
 to Newfoundland was as yet unknown. A company 
 was formed to make a settlement upon Newfoundland. 
 Many, hoping great profit, joined in the scheme. 
 Ships were prepared, but before they could sail, the 
 adventurers quarrelled. Some refused subjection. 
 Others , could not perform what they had promised. 
 The majority dispersed, leaving Sir Humphrey with a 
 few friends, among whom was Raleigh, to continue the 
 adventure. The small squadron put to sea, was met 
 by a Spanish fieet, and after a severe action was forced 
 to return. Thus unsuccessful w^as his first attempt at 
 colonization. But the idea had sunk deep into his 
 mind that fame and wealth awaited him in America 
 that there he should perform deeds that should make 
 his name immortal, and win possessions for England, 
 over w r hich he might reign with the pomp of a sove- 
 reign prince. This vision he pursued through dangers, 
 Bufferings, disappointment, and despair, until it plunged 
 him in poverty and brought him to the block. Yet 
 the dream has been at length fulfilled. The world has 
 awarded deathless fame to Raleigh for his efforts to 
 colonize America. A great nation has arisen upon 
 the land which he first pointed out as worthy to be a 
 nation's birth-place. And in her transatlantic posses- 
 sions England has found richer mines than any discov- 
 ered by Cortes or Pizarro. 
 
 His next field of action was Ireland. The Roman 
 Catholics of that island were preparing to revolt. Wai- 
 was not openly declared between Philip and Elizabeth, 
 
LORD GKET. 43 
 
 but the former seized the opportunity to repay those ill 
 offices which the Queen had done him in the Nether- 
 lands. Seven hundred Spanish and Italian troops were 
 landed in Ireland with a banner blessed by the Pope 
 and a priest dignified with the title of Nuncio. They 
 built a fort at Smerwick in Kerry, while the Irish 
 rebels, under their leaders the Desmonds, hastened to 
 join them. Among the English forces who marched 
 against them was Raleigh, who had now risen to be a 
 captain. It is stated that when Sir James Desmond 
 was taken he was put under the charge of Sir "Warham 
 St. Leger and Captain Raleigh, by whom in virtue 
 of a commission directed to them he was tried and 
 executed. 
 
 Lord Grey had come over as Deputy from England 
 to crush the rebellion at a blow. He approached the 
 Spaniards with eight hundred horse and foot. Raleigh 
 was with him and signalized himself by an exploit. 
 He observed that as the army left their encampment, 
 the Irish kerns or peasants entered and plundered what- 
 ever was left. He laid in wait near the camp, until he 
 saw the Irish rush into the place, and then coming upon 
 them suddenly took them all prisoners. There was one 
 who carried a bundle of withes. "When asked what 
 they were meant for, he coldly replied, " To hang up 
 English churls." " Is it so ?" said Kaleigh, " then they 
 shall serve now for Irish." He ordered the man to be 
 strung up with his own withes. 
 
 Meanwhile Grey besieged the Spanish fort by sea and 
 
44 RALEIGH AND SPENSER. 
 
 land. He sent an officer to demand from them the 
 object of their coming. They replied " that the Holy 
 Father had given the realm to Philip, and that Philip 
 meant to recover it out of the power of the schismatic 
 Elizabeth." While the parley was going on the Span- 
 iards made a sally, but Raleigh was on the watch. He 
 attacked the assailants with great valor, and drove them 
 back into their camp. After five days' siege the fort sur- 
 rendered. Lord Grey, with unusual cruelty, put the 
 whole garrison to death. Barbarous as was the military 
 policy of the age, even Elizabeth disapproved of this 
 needless severity. Yet Lord Grey was a man of much 
 refinement. He had chosen the poet Spenser as his 
 Secretary, to attend him into Ireland. The grateful 
 poet defends the conduct of his friend in his "view of 
 the state of L-eland," by urging that Grey had never 
 promised the Spaniards their lives. He seems to think 
 the offence easily pardonable, so long as Grey had not 
 violated his honor. 
 
 Here Raleigh and Spenser became first acquainted. 
 They could hardly meet without becoming friends. Yet 
 their intercourse was not frequent until later. 
 
 Raleigh became famous in Ireland for his partisan 
 exploits. The rebellion half suppressed, still lingered 
 among the fastnesses, and in the unsettled portion of the 
 country. Many of the discontented nobility were plot- 
 ting a general rising against the English rule. Over 
 these Raleigh, stationed in garrison at Cork, kept a close 
 watch. Once he went up to Dublin with but few attend- 
 
RALEIGH WEAKY OF IRELAND. 45 
 
 ants, to complain to the Lord Deputy of some noted 
 offenders. His enemies prepared to intercept his return. 
 The seneschal of Imokelly lay in ambush 011 the banks 
 of a stream which he must cross, with a large body of 
 natives. Fortunately Raleigh arrived when the enemy 
 was dispersed. He dashed through the ford singly, 
 attained the opposite bank and defended himself suc- 
 cessfully until his companions had crossed. 
 
 In 1581, when Ormond left Ireland, Raleigh was 
 one of the three commissioners left in charge of the 
 government of Munster. Here he was constantly em- 
 ployed against the enemy. He attacked Barry, a noted 
 Irish partisan with superior force, and totally defeated 
 him. With only six horse, he threw himself upon a 
 large party of natives, and drove them before him until 
 they fell into the hands of his foot soldiers. With his 
 small company of eighty foot and eight horsemen, he 
 rode through the rebellious districts without meeting a 
 reverse. 
 
 Eut this rude life among the barbarous Irish, wearied 
 Raleigh. Here was little fame to be acquired, and no 
 prospect of improving his fortune. He pined like an 
 exile. He scorned the petty warfare in which he was 
 engaged, and longed for some fitting field for those tal- 
 ents of which he felt conscious. Was he to pass the 
 best days of his manhood in fighting Irish kerns? " I 
 disdain it," said he, in a letter to the Earl of Leicester, 
 " almost as much as to keep sheep." 
 
 A new scene was to open to him. Elizabeth was form 
 
ing her remarkable court. Slie felt tliat in the perils by 
 which she was encompassed she needed to be surrounded 
 by wise and valiant men. With keen penetration she 
 selected from among her subjects all who could be use- 
 ful to her in war or in politics. Her courtiers were men 
 with frames hardened upon the battle-field, with minds 
 large, vigorous, and commanding. In the society of 
 such attendants the queen delighted. She delighted in 
 mental and moral greatness as much as in mere physical 
 beauty. Her courtiers were all eminent for a union of 
 excellences. They were graceful, learned, brave, and 
 usually of remarkable personal attractions. 
 
 Her weaknesses were vanity and love. She was vain 
 of her sandy hair, her angular features, her awkward 
 gait, and haughty mien. She believed herself the most 
 accomplished, and the most learned, the most beautiful, 
 and the most captivating of living women. She ex- 
 pected all men to die of love for her, but unlike most 
 coquettes, she did not escape the fatal passion herself. 
 There is no doubt that she loved Leicester violently, 
 that she died of grief at seventy for the sake of the 
 beautiful and misguided Essex. Her affections were 
 not constant, and several of her gifted courtiers, among 
 whom was Raleigh, touched the heart of the haughty 
 queen. 
 
 From amid her weaknesses the strength of Elizabeth's 
 character becomes more evident. Her woman's frailty 
 could not cloud her strong intellect, or change her grand 
 designs. She steadily pursued her plan of humbling 
 
KALEIGH MADE KNOWN TO ELIZABETH. 47 
 
 Philip, and of preserving Protestantism, while listening 
 to the compliments of Leicester or the more earnest 
 passion of Essex. The language of extravagant admi- 
 ration with which her courtiers were accustomed to 
 address her, was not wholly insincere. Her lofty genius 
 united to a royal station, dazzled and overwhelmed their 
 minds. The strongest minds of her subjects might well 
 bow before that absolute monarch, who by her wisdom 
 and vigilance ensured the prosperity and glory of her 
 people ; whose haughty self-will inspired almost as much 
 dread in her own House of Commons as it did within 
 the walls of Madrid. Her frailties were overlooked in 
 that halo of veneration and awe in which her proudest 
 subjects delighted to veil her. 
 
 Raleigh was now to be made known to Elizabeth. 
 He possessed every quality which she most prized. He 
 was in the first strength of manhood. He was about 
 six feet in height, his form strong, compact and grace- 
 ful. He wore the flowing beard and moustache of the 
 time, and his dark hair cut short, waved slightly around 
 his brow. In dressing he always excelled. His armor 
 was of the choicest workmanship ; his laces of the most 
 costly kind. Upon one of. his court suits the jewels 
 alone were valued at sixty thousand pounds, and those 
 on his shoes exceeded in value six thousand pieces of 
 gold. His manners were stately, yet polished, and he 
 had that deferential, awe-struck bearing which Elizabeth 
 so loved to receive from men of eminent personal and 
 physical attractions. He spoke with ease, readiness, 
 
4:8 THEIR FIRST INTERVIEW. 
 
 and plausibility. He knew how to touch the delicate 
 chords of vanity, to awake to pity and to admiration, to 
 present the wide knowledge of which he was possessed 
 in the most alluring and agreeable form. 
 
 But he had a higher claim to the esteem of Elizabeth. 
 He was a soldier, tried in fiercest contests of the time. 
 He had fought in France, in Holland, and in Ireland, 
 and had gained a practical knowledge of military affairs, 
 such as few of his contemporaries could have possessed. 
 His reputation for courage had reached England. He 
 had gained the notice and perhaps the patronage of the 
 Earl of Leicester. Lords Grey and Ormond could both 
 tell how bravely the young captain had borne himself 
 through the desultory campaigns in Ireland. Elizabeth 
 no doubt ere now had heard his name mentioned with 
 honor as a brave soldier, and a daring leader. She was 
 prepared to receive with approving smiles thejman who 
 had already done her good services, and was likely to 
 be of constant use in her future warlike schemes. 
 
 The tradition of the first interview between Raleigh 
 and the queen is well known, though of doubtful 
 authenticity, but which, as it is not altogether improba- 
 ble, I shall not omit. It is said that while Elizabeth 
 was once walking out with her attendants, she encoun- 
 tered a wet spot in the road. She hesitated, uncertain 
 how to advance, when Raleigh gracefully approached, 
 and taking from his shoulders a rich mantle, flung it 
 down before the queen. She passed safely over, and 
 then turned to survey the author of the unusual act of 
 
gallantry. She was charmed by his appearance as much 
 as by his politeness, and is said to have promised that, 
 " the loss of one suit should be the gain of many to 
 him." 
 
 The promise was kept. The graceful, gallant Raleigh, 
 who but lately mourned his banishment amid the wilds 
 of Ireland, became a star of that brilliant court which 
 had been chosen with such discriminating care by Eliza- 
 beth. His was a nature in which the queen delighted. 
 It was kindred to her own. She could understand that 
 poetical temperament that glowed with happiness in her 
 favor, and sank into despair beneath her frown. She 
 could read with satisfaction that vehement ambition, 
 which she meant not to gratify wholly, but rather to in- 
 flame "by gradual advancement, and devote to the ser- 
 vice of her realm in distant exploits. She heard with a 
 growing tenderness those protestations of admiration 
 and passionate regard which Raleigh soon learned were 
 the surest paths to the favor of his stately mistress. 
 
 The court into which Raleigh came shone with genius 
 and beauty. There, the chief favorite for many years, 
 and with a power apparently immovable, reigned the 
 fair-faced, haughty, vindictive Leicester. His power 
 over the Queen seemed assured by some secret bond 
 which held even her proud nature in check ; for she 
 never dared to cast him wholly aside, even when, she 
 was convinced of his faithlessness, and provoked by his 
 cowardice and misconduct in Holland. There, too, was 
 Sir Philip Sidney, nephew of Leicester, the author of 
 
 3 
 
50 SIDNEY AND BACON. 
 
 an able defence of poetry, a poet himself, a brave soldier, 
 and a pure and virtuous man. He died at thirty-two ; 
 yet, though so young, the fame of his genius and his 
 virtues had spread over Europe, at a time when fame 
 travelled slowly. The nobles of Poland had chosen 
 Sidney for their king, but Elizabeth forbade him to 
 accept the crown. There, too, was Francis Bacon, a 
 reformer in mental science as renowned as Luther in 
 religion, a courtier as assiduous as if he had not pos- 
 sessed that mighty intellect which elevated him far 
 above kings, and priests, and nobles. There was Bur- 
 leigh, the astute, "Walsingham, the keen detector of those 
 endless plots which so often threatened death or deposi- 
 tion to the virgin queen. There at intervals shone Spen- 
 ser, the beloved friend of Sidney and -Raleigh, the bard 
 whose sweet notes first discovered the melting harmony 
 of the English tongue. There, too, came Shakspeare 
 when masks and plays were to be performed before the 
 queen, unconscious of his own greatness, and abandoning 
 to the care of careless copyists that fame which was to 
 be England's proudest possession, abandoning to igno- 
 rant transcribers those matchless plays, to restore whose 
 original purity Pope and "Warburton and Johnson were 
 to spend years of fruitless labor. There, perhaps, came 
 the gifted bricklayer, rare Ben Jonson, and the poetical 
 atheist, Marlowe. There finally came Essex, the friend 
 of all men of genius, the sweet and winning companion, 
 the beloved even to death by his chosen friends, whose 
 beautiful person, whose melancholy, pensive eye, whose 
 
ELIZABETH KEEPS HEK COUETEEKS EMPLOYED. 51 
 
 nobility of birth, of bearing, and disposition, so won the 
 heart of the maiden queen, that she died of grief for his 
 loss, even though he had fallen justly a convicted traitor 
 and a conspirator against her person. 
 
 Such were Raleigh's peers. Yet among these eminent 
 men prevailed a bitter and unceasing rivalry. Bacon 
 was a low and subtile intriguer for office ; Leicester 
 frowned upon every new pretender to the favor of the 
 Queen. Raleigh, himself, became soon immersed in 
 intrigues for his own advancement, and in deep schemes 
 for destroying his rivals. Essex, rising without effort to 
 power, was driven by the malicious tales of his followers 
 to look upon Raleigh as a traitorous foe. Cecil, Bur- 
 leigh, Hat-ton, Vere, and Howard, with their innumera- 
 ble friends, rivals, or enemies, completed the realm of 
 misrule, and led the gentle Spenser to rejoice in his 
 Irish solitude that sheltered him from the " enormities" 
 of the court. 
 
 It was Elizabeth's policy to keep her courtiers from 
 idleness. Some she employed in stately pageants, 
 some upon distant embassies, and others in war or nego- 
 tiation. Raleigh was soon made of use. He was 
 ordered to attend to Antwerp, Simier, the envoy sent 
 over by the Duke of Anjou to negotiate his marriage 
 with the queen. He now first became acquainted with 
 some of the court " enormities," and narrowly escaped 
 falling a victim to the vindictive Leicester. The favo- 
 rite had opposed the marriage with all his influence. 
 Simier, cunning and bold, had discovered that the earl 
 
52 THE DUKE OF ANJOU. 
 
 was himself privately married. To destroy his influ- 
 ence he had revealed the fatal secret to Elizabeth. Her 
 rage and grief were boundless, and Simier almost 
 succeeded in his design of destroying the powerful earl. 
 Yet, after a time, Leicester's influence revived. He 
 was restored to his ascendency and the French match 
 was broken off. But Leicester could not pardon Simier. 
 He resolved to have a deadly revenge. He hired some 
 pirates to attack the ship which bore Simier and 
 Kaleigh to the continent, and to sink her with all her 
 crew. The pirates chased the vessel for four hours, but 
 were finally driven off by some men-of-war. 
 
 When the Duke of Anjou having visited England 
 was about to return to France, Raleigh was one of 
 those sufficiently conspicuous to be appointed to escort 
 him home. The duke moved with a brilliant retinue. 
 The queen herself, with the flower of her court, attended 
 him to Dover. A splendid train of English nobles and 
 gentlemen, among whom was Kaleigh, accompanied 
 him to Antwerp. Here Raleigh made the acquaint- 
 ance of the Prince of Orange, who charged him witk 
 letters to the queen, and with a verbal message that 
 " the States flourished only beneath her powerful care." 
 When Raleigh came back to England he became a-a 
 especial favorite and one apparently marked out for 
 rapid advancement. Leicester was not yet his enemy 
 and even showed him some favor. With Sidney and 
 Bacon he could hardly fail to form an intimacy, so like 
 were they in their love for learning. He had an opeaa. 
 
RALEIGH LOOKS WITH HOPE TO AMEKICA. 53 
 
 rupture with Lord Grey, but against that powerful 
 nobleman he found himself sustained by the favor of 
 the queen. 
 
 His imagination still rested upon America. Amid 
 the slow progress of court promotion he turned to that 
 New World as the true field for his ambition. Sir 
 Humphrey Gilbert had renewed his project of settling 
 Newfoundland. He was to go in person upon the 
 dangerous expedition. Raleigh built a bark of two 
 hundred tons, called the Raleigh, to accompany his 
 brother. To do this he must have possessed money or 
 credit. Sir Humphrey added four more vessels. The 
 expedition was patronized by the queen. Her pene- 
 trating mind perceived all the advantages that flowed 
 from maritime adventure, and she honored and che- 
 rished all those worthy voyagers whose exploits laid the 
 foundation of English supremacy on the sea. She 
 directed Raleigh to write to his brother that she wished 
 him "good hap." She sent him a golden anchor 
 guided by a lady, and desired, as if foreseeing the doom 
 of the brave navigator, that he would leave behind him 
 his picture. The fleet sailed, June 11, 1583. But by 
 midnight of the 13th, a violent contagious disease broke 
 out on the bark Raleigh. She put into Plymouth in 
 great distress. Meanwhile the remaining ships pro- 
 ceeded to Newfoundland. They landed and took pos- 
 session of the island with great solemnity. But of the 
 four only one vessel returned. Sir Humphrey, having 
 lost his own ship, attempted to cross the ocean in a 
 
54: HE RESOLVES TO EXPLORE THE UNKNOWN SHORES. 
 
 pinnace of only ten tons. A storm arose, and his 
 companions beheld him disappear, on a dismal night, in 
 the stormy Atlantic. 
 
 His fate had no effect upon Raleigh. His passion for 
 discovery grew strong amid constant disappointments. 
 The new world lay before him, almost an untrodden 
 soil. The Spaniards had penetrated into but a small por- 
 tion around the Isthmus of Darien. All the vast interior 
 of North America, the outlines of which had been 
 faintly indicated by the discoveries of Davis, of Cabot, 
 of Gilbert, was still to be conquered and explored. Its 
 long shores lay opposite to England, inviting her adven- 
 turous people to discovery and settlement. 
 
 Raleigh resolved to explore this unknown tract. He 
 designed to form a settlement about midway between 
 Florida and Newfoundland. Here he thought golden 
 mines must abound, and the wealth of the Indians aw^ait 
 the first discoverer. Here England might strengthen 
 herself against the overwhelming power of Spain, by 
 discoveries of equal value with those which had ele- 
 vated the impoverished kings of Castile to such afflu- 
 ence and grandeur. He imparted his designs to Eliza- 
 beth. He clothed it in all the engaging colors which 
 glowed in his own sanguine imagination. H e presented 
 it with all the skill of "his plausible tongue." The 
 queen heard him with pleasure. She encouraged the 
 expedition, and granted him a patent with power to 
 hold, settle, and govern all the new territories he might 
 discover. 
 
55 
 
 As the groat colonizer, Raleigh lias won his most last- 
 ing fame. He was the first to lead his countrymen 
 onward to these great discoveries, which have given 
 them all their commercial supremacy. He was resolved 
 that his own country should no longer be surpassed by 
 Southern Europe, in the advantages of colonization. 
 As yet England had lagged behind her contemporaries, 
 and neglected those means of profit, which had made 
 other nations prosperous. While Spain and Portugal 
 had won great empires and vast revenues by their dis- 
 tant conquests, increasing trade, and untiring enterprise, 
 the English, divided, by civil and religious contest, had 
 remained but slightly benefited by the new discoveries. 
 
 Under the energy of Kaleigh.a new spirit was im- 
 parted to Englishmen. He taught them the true destiny 
 of England. He founded her empire upon the sea. 
 His name and his influence aided every attempt at mari- 
 time discovery. His enthusiasm for naval affairs was 
 limitless. It never flagged for a moment. He encour- 
 aged Davis on his perilous voyage to discover a northern 
 passage. He aided Hakluyt to publish his celebrated 
 collection of voyages. He sent ship after ship to the 
 shores of the New World, to colonize, to relieve tke 
 colonists, to explore the unknown land, and to bring 
 back an exact account of its productions, climate, and 
 inhabitants. While a prisoner in the Tower, he wrote 
 a treatise on ship-building ; and closed his long career 
 by a last voyage of discovery, that was fatal to his for- 
 tunes and his life. 
 
56 THE NAKKATIVE OF HIS CAPTAINS. 
 
 Two vessels were prepared for Ms first expedition to 
 the New World. They were equipped chiefly, if not 
 altogether, at his own expense. Philip Amidas and 
 Arthur Barlow were the captains. 
 
 These ships were sent out to explore the New World 
 and to prepare the way for a perfect system of coloniza- 
 tion. They were followed by the attention of all Eng- 
 land. Raleigh's plan of distant settlement became the 
 subject of conversation in the court and the city, among 
 the nobles, the merchants, and the people. It was looked 
 upon with general favor. Men's minds were filled with 
 admiration at the greatness of his views and the patriotic 
 ardor with which he illustrated them. 
 
 At length the ships returned. They had pursued the 
 long route by the Canaries, and had passed several 
 months upon the sea ; but they had returned safe. They 
 had seen the unknown land and had found it as beauti 
 ful as Eden. 
 
 Raleigh exultingly published the narrative of his cap 
 tains. They related how, as they approached the shore 
 of the New World, the perfume as of a garden of flowers 
 had stolen over the ocean to welcome them. How, 
 after coasting for many miles, they had landed and taken 
 possession of the country in the name of their queen. 
 
 It was July. They had alighted upon the shores of 
 North Carolina. The summer airs seemed to the voya- 
 gers to possess a peculiar softness such as they had never 
 felt before. Nature saluted them coming from the mo- 
 notonous sea with an unending variety of charms. All 
 
NATUKE OF THE COUNTRY. 57 
 
 seemed peace and rest, and luxuriant life. "Vines grew 
 so plentifully that they climbed to the tops of the tall 
 cedars, and came down along the shore until they mingled 
 with the waves. A gunshot awoke such vast flocks of 
 birds that their united cry seemed like the shouting of an 
 army. 
 
 A single native approached the English with but little 
 show of fear. When they loaded him with gifts he was 
 transported with gratitude. He leaped into his boat 
 and commenced fishing. In half an hour, so plentiful 
 was the yield, it was loaded with as many fish as it could 
 bear. The native then landed on a point of land near 
 the ships, divided his spoil into two parte, indicated that 
 one part was for each vessel, and then disappeared. 
 
 The voyagers pursued their explorations. They were 
 hospitably treated by one of the kings of the country, 
 as they called the native chiefs. With royal liberality 
 he sent them every day a brace or two of fat ducks, 
 conies, hares, and fish, the best in the world. With these 
 came various kinds of fruits, vegetables, melons, cucum- 
 bers, gourds, walnuts, peas, roots, and other unknown 
 products of the country. It seemed indeed a land of 
 plenty. The soil with but slight cultivation produced 
 profusely. The forests and rivers teemed with the 
 choicest food. No want could come to this favored 
 clime. 'No sickness visited the transient explorers. 
 
 Yet the natives so mild to the English were found to 
 be faithless, implacable, and savagely cruel to each 
 other. They showed where whole races had been ex- 
 
58 NARRATIVE OF THE VOYAGE. 
 
 terminated in their wars. They told with barbarous 
 triumph how they had invited their enemies to a feast 
 and then, after praying to their idol, had fallen iipon 
 their guests and murdered them. They even invited 
 the English to witness and take part in a similar exploit. 
 They were idolators bearing about with them in war an 
 idol of which they asked counsel. "When their armies 
 advanced to battle, instead of the noise of drums and 
 trumpets, they sang fierce songs like the ancient 
 Germans. 
 
 With such pictures of the new world did Raleigh fill 
 the minds of his countrymen. Here was another Para- 
 dise discovered, possessed by demons who were to be 
 driven out, or heathens to be converted to Christianity. 
 Here was a land abounding in the spices and fruits of the 
 Indies, and which must certainly contain great stores of 
 gold. If the sea-shore was so inviting, what might not 
 be expected in the interior ? When Cortes first landed 
 upon the shores of Mexico he encountered only savage 
 tribes. Perhaps another Montezuma was reigning in 
 peaceful impotence within the vine-clad shores of 
 Ocracoke. 
 
 The narrative of his first expedition was laid by 
 Raleigh before the queen. She was delighted with its 
 success. Here was no chilly Newfoundland to be settled, 
 uninviting and covered with fogs, but a soft climate 
 and fertile soil waiting to be possessed. She bestowed 
 a name upon the land which should perpetuate her own 
 glory. She called Raleigh's new province Virginia. 
 
THE DISCOVERER KNIGHTED. 59 
 
 The discoverer was knighted. He became Sir "Walter 
 Raleigh. He entered Parliament. To aid him in his 
 plan of colonization, the queen gave him a monopoly 
 of the sale of sweet wines, and his patent for settling 
 and governing America was confirmed by Parliament. 
 
 In 1583, a new undertaking diverted for a moment 
 his attention. Sir Adrian Gilbert, his step-brother, had 
 prepared an expedition for the discovery of a northwest 
 passage. It was to be commanded by the famous Cap- 
 tain Davis. Thus was Raleigh one of the originators of 
 those marvellous voyages to the icy seas of the north 
 which, if they have had no other useful effect, have 
 given to the British seamen a daring valor and unrivalled 
 hardihood that have taught them to despise the danger 
 of all other maritime exploits. The Polar seas have 
 been the school of American and British seamanship. 
 There the whaler and the sealer soon followed in the 
 track of the explorer. Davis sailed from England with 
 but two barks, in the summer of 1585. He touched 
 land as far north as latitude 66 40', the cliffs of which 
 glistened like gold, and called it Mount Raleigh. He 
 also discovered the straits which lead into Baffin's Bay, 
 and which retain his name. Among the icebergs of the 
 north the enterprise of Raleigh was felt. Without his 
 cordial support the English mariner might long have 
 shrunk from those boisterous seas, and have overlooked 
 some of the richest grounds of the whale-fisher. 
 
 But though thus ready to encourage every scheme 
 that promised benefit to the nation, Raleigh still cher- 
 
60 A SECOND EXPEDITION. 
 
 ished with peculiar interest Ms plan of colonizing 
 Yirginia. In 1585 he prepared a second expedition. 
 Seven vessels, having on board one hundred colonists, 
 were made ready and the command given to Sir Kichard 
 Greenville, one of those famous mariners who in that 
 day scoured the seas in pursuit of Spanish carracks, and 
 delighted in any' dangerous enterprise that promised 
 profit or renown. He was Raleigh's most faithful adhe- 
 rent, and to none other could he have so safely commit- 
 ted the care of his young colony. 
 
 It may be wondered that Raleigh did not himself 
 hasten to take possession of his province. But perhaps 
 he feared to leave the queen, with whom he was now 
 an almost unrivalled favorite, and was fearful that his 
 enemies, of whom he always had many, would take 
 advantage of his absence to destroy his influence. He 
 felt that at court he stood upon a treacherous soil. His 
 sole reliance was the favor of a haughty and sensitive 
 mistress. A whisper might destroy him, an intrigue 
 reduce him below those rivals with whom he now con- 
 tended upon an equality. To be safe he must retain his 
 influence over Elizabeth by an assiduous attendance and 
 submission to her whims, her vanity, and her tenderness. 
 
 Greenville, therefore, led the important expedition. 
 Ralph Lane went with him as governor of the colony. 
 With the settlers were several remarkable men. Har- 
 riot, the inventor of Algebraic notation, Cavendish, 
 the circumnavigator, and a painter, who made sketches 
 of the natives, their dress, dwellings, and other curi- 
 
VIRGINIA . 61 
 
 osities of the country, which aided much in convey- 
 ing to the people of England a just conception of the 
 New World. 
 
 The voyagers sailed upon the usual southern course, 
 from which the most experienced navigators of the age 
 were afraid to venture, and passing by the Canaries, 
 paused for a time at Hispaniola, where, notwithstanding 
 their buccaneering propensities, they behaved with 
 hospitality to the Spanish inhabitants, entertaining the 
 governor and other men of note at a "sumptuous" ban- 
 quet, given beneath a temporary banquet-hall erected 
 with green boughs. The Spaniards returned their civil- 
 ity by giving in their honor a grand hunt of whitebulls. 
 
 Then Greenville bore off for Virginia, where he 
 landed his colony. The settlers were charmed with the 
 appearance of the country, and saw the fleet depart 
 without regret. His duty accomplished, Greenville 
 indulged his natural tastes. He fell upon Spanish com- 
 merce and made rich prizes on his homeward passage. 
 
 The colonists left behind in the Paradise, commenced 
 exploring its advantages. They found the soil the 
 goodliest under the cope of heaven, abounding in sweet 
 trees that teemed with spicy gums. A continent of 
 unknown greatness and resources stretched behind 
 them. They prepare^, to discover its mines of gold, its 
 jewels, its cities and its monarchs. Evidently it was 
 well peopled, and the natives courteous. They met the 
 strangers without suspicion. They were so ignorant as 
 to prefer coarse cloth to silk, red copper to all other 
 
62 ITS DANGERS. 
 
 metals. Such were the tidings the fleet bore back to 
 Raleigh. 
 
 But the colonists soon began to discover that their 
 beautiful wilderness possessed dangers and sufferings 
 more pressing than those from which they had fled. The 
 savages had been wantonly made their bitter foes. 
 Before Greenville left he had taught the simple natives 
 that the white men, whom they thought gods, were 
 cruel and revengeful. A silver cup had been stolen 
 in one of the native towns. Greenville, with the prompt 
 cruelty of a buccaneer, had reduced the village to 
 ashes, and destroyed its fields of growing corn. This 
 act spread horror among the " courteous " savages. 
 The reverence they had felt for the white men changed 
 into a loathing dread. They believed them to be evil 
 spirits come to destroy their race. A prophecy spread 
 among them that more whites were coming to hasten 
 their doom ; that they were to be wholly exterminated, 
 and their places taken by a new generation of stran- 
 gers. So early did the sense of their mournful destiny 
 liumble the minds of the unreflecting savages. 
 
 With the hostility of the natives, famine came upon 
 the colony. ~No kings any longer sent them braces of 
 fat bucks, and abundance of fine fruit. The Indians 
 neglected to plant their corn lest it should serve to 
 nourish their invaders. The whites had not time to 
 raise any for themselves. In the land which had been 
 thought the garden of the world, the first settlers were 
 nearly starved. 
 
THE COLONISTS RETURN WITH SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 63 
 
 At this moment Sir Francis Drake came sailing tri- 
 umphantly from the plunder of ^Carthagena, and the 
 Spanish coasts, to visit Kaleigh's famous colony. He 
 found the settlers desponding and hopeless; Virginia 
 had lost all its allurements. They begged Drake to take 
 them back to England where, in a less favored climate, 
 there were no savages, and food for all. They returned, 
 bringing back a vast deal of information in relation to 
 the country and its productions. 
 
 Meanwhile Raleigh, ever provident, had sent a ship 
 of an hundred tons to their relief, loaded with a plenti- 
 ful supply of all that they could require. She was 
 detained in England until late in the season, and arrived 
 at the colony a few days after the settlers had sailed. 
 Not long after the departure of this vessel, Raleigh 
 dispatched Sir Richard Greenville, with three ships, also 
 laden with supplies. He landed upon the deserted 
 coast, explored the country in person to some extent, 
 and having left fifteen men upon the island of Roanoke, 
 to prove that the project of settling in Virginia was not 
 abandoned, he sailed back to England. 
 
 Thus failed Raleigh's second effort to colonize Amer- 
 ica. The expense of this attempt ' to him must have 
 been almost ruinous. His only resource was the bounty 
 of the queen; and Elizabeth, it is well known, gave but 
 sparingly. His passion for discovery had thus far been 
 indulged at great pecuniary loss. It had kept him poor, 
 and ill satisfied. Yet he had not altogether failed. His 
 expeditions had familiarized to the minds of his country- 
 
64: TOBACCO. 
 
 men, the idea of colonization. They had brought over 
 an accurate knowledge of the dangers, as well as advan- 
 tages, of the country. To his experienced eye there 
 appeared no difficulties that could prevent his scheme 
 from having perfect success. Climate, soil, and the 
 feeble character of the natives, seemed to invite to further 
 enterprise. 
 
 One of the results of this expedition, was the intro- 
 duction of tobacco into England. The savages of 
 America had first discovered the uses of that plant, 
 which has now become one of the chief luxuries of civil- 
 ization. In his wigwams, amid swamps and wild woods, 
 the Indian had learned to envelop himself in clouds 
 of fragrant smoke. His pipe and his tobacco pouch 
 were his choicest possessions. They accompanied him 
 on his warlike expeditions, and solaced the monotony 
 of his winter lodge. His strange and savage recreation 
 became known to the whites. They adopted the fashion 
 with avidity. Before the voyage of Greenville the 
 Spaniards had introduced smoking into Southern Europe, 
 but it had not yet reached England. 
 
 Raleigh made smoking the fashion. He brought into 
 the stately court of Elizabeth, an amusement which 
 seemed only suited to the lodge of a savage Yirginian. 
 Tobacco became his favorite solace. He lived in a 
 cloud of perpetual smoke, and died almost with his 'pipe 
 in his mouth. His arrangements for smoking were on 
 a costly scale. His tobacco box, or rather its case, was 
 of gilded leather, about a foot and a half broad, and 
 
- ESTATE. 65 
 
 thirteen inches high. "Within were receptacles for six- 
 teen pipes. Around the case stood a circle of small 
 wax candles of various colors, as around the altar of a 
 god. It is not related that they were kept perpetually 
 burning. 
 
 The practice soon became fashionable at court. "What 
 amused the chief favorite could not fail to entertain 
 others. The demand for tobacco grew great. One 
 chief employment of the future colonists of Virginia, 
 was to be the cultivation of this plant. Its use soon 
 became common all over Europe, a cloud of tobacco 
 smoke floated over almost every palace, and every cot- 
 tage. Philosophers like John Locke, and poets like 
 John Milton, were not ashamed to adopt the savage 
 custom, and proved by their common taste how small 
 the difference between the barbarous and the civilized 
 man. 
 
 To compensate him for his losses, Elizabeth gave 
 Raleigh an estate of twelve thousand* acres in Ireland, 
 on condition that he should plant and settle it at his 
 own expense. The gift could hardly have been of much 
 value at that time. Ireland had lately been desolated 
 by a rebellion in Minister, and when that was suppressed 
 a famine fell upon the unhappy country, owing to the 
 neglect of proper agriculture, which proved more fatal 
 than many wars. Whole districts were depopulated. 
 Elizabeth saw that she could never rely upon the fidelity 
 of the native Irish. She offered inducements to English 
 settlers to enter and cultivate the island. The deserted 
 
66 THE EARL OF LEICESTEE. 
 
 lands were given to any who could colonize them. But 
 they were chiefly bestowed upon those who had aided 
 in suppressing the rebellion. Of these Ealeigh had 
 been one of the chief. His share therefore was large. 
 This estate he afterwards sold to Robert Boyle, Earl of 
 Corke, to whom it proved the commencement of a great 
 fortune. Two other preferments at this time mark the 
 gradual ascent of Raleigh's fortunes ; he was made 
 Seneschal of the Duchy of Cornwall and Exeter, and 
 Lord Warden of the Stannaries of Wales and Corn- 
 wall. 
 
 The Earl of Leicester had been for more than thirty 
 years the reigning favorite. On him Elizabeth had 
 lavished her highest honors and her most liberal gifts. 
 His marriage had but for a moment shaken his supre- 
 macy. But his influence now received a deeper blow. 
 He had been sent to Holland at the head of the forces 
 which Elizabeth had prepared for the relief of the Dutch. 
 He had entered the provinces attended by a retinue of 
 eminent men, among whom was the Earl of Essex, and 
 had been received with joy and gratitude by the States. 
 But ere long Leicester proved himself a coward, an 
 inefficient general, and a man whose vanity and ambition 
 rendered him unfit to hold any important command. 
 Elizabeth recalled her favorite in disgrace. "With 
 Leicester, Raleigh seems to have long corresponded. 
 They had continued ever friends. There is a letter from 
 Raleigh to Leicester, written probably at this time, in 
 which he assures the earl of his devotion to his interests. 
 
begs him not to permit any poetical scribe to make him 
 seem cold and hollow, and adds " the queen is on very 
 good terms with yon, and thanks be to God you are still 
 her sweet Robin." 
 
 "With the people Raleigh was never popular. He was 
 even generally disliked. All his great achievements, 
 his gallant manners, and his commanding mind failed to 
 win him the affections of the citizens, or even to make 
 him many friends. It was well known that he was 
 haughty, overbearing and self-willed. It was believed 
 that he was selfish and insincere. His political princi- 
 ples were more liberal than most of his contemporaries ; 
 his hatred to Spain was a popular feeling ; his plans of 
 colonization were on all hands allowed to be highly 
 patriotic ; yet was he singularly unpopular. Essex had 
 only to show his fair melancholy face to the mob 
 to awaken a hearty welcome of cheers and shouts. 
 But when Raleigh walked abroad he was passed in 
 silence. 
 
 This unpopularity is not strange. Men who gain 
 influence by mere mental power are seldom liked. 
 They govern the mind but not the affections. They rule 
 over unwilling subjects. Of this kind was Raleigh's 
 influence over Elizabeth. She admired his rare union of 
 striking qualities, his refined taste, his strong intellect, 
 his unusual personal attractions, and his- martial skill, but 
 she missed that impulsive nature, that passionate tem- 
 perament which fixed her affections upon the youthful 
 Essex. The people, too, soon discerned the nature of 
 
68 TASTE FOE BUCCANEERING. 
 
 the favorite's influence and character. They disliked 
 his haughty, commanding spirit. They feared his 
 singular tact. 
 
 An anecdote is preserved that seems to indicate the 
 common feeling with regard to Haleigh. Tarleton was 
 the best comedian of the time. He was the privileged 
 court jester. Once, while acting a play before Eliza- 
 beth and her courtiers, he suddenly pointed to Raleigh 
 as he repeated the words " see the knave commands the 
 queen." Elizabeth frowned. But going on with the 
 same freedom the jester added, " he is" of too much and 
 too intolerable power." lie even made some reflections 
 upon the great influence of the Earl Leicester which 
 were received with such general applause by all present 
 that the queen thought it prudent to conceal her dis- 
 pleasure. But from that time Tarleton was forbidden 
 to appear at her table. 
 
 Elizabeth was the queen of a nation of buccaneers. 
 Her subjects were almost universally engaged in 
 privateering. English seamen were just beginning to 
 display their native hardihood and cupidity. Their 
 frail, ill-constructed barks, so small that in the present 
 age they would scarce seem fit for river navigation, 
 pierced the most distant and dangerous seas in pursuit 
 of their prey. They had just learned the weakness 
 and wealth of Spanish commerce. They found that an 
 English pinnace of twenty tons was more than a match 
 for a Lisbon galleon of twelve hundred tons. They 
 taught the Spanish sailors to dread the coming of their 
 
DANGERS OF THE EAKLY NAVIGATORS. C9 
 
 heretic foes as they would a legion of demons. The 
 English indeed fought more like demons than men. 
 They met, without flinching, force an hundred times 
 more powerful than their own. A fleet of Spanish 
 carracks of immense size lay around Greenville's single 
 ship, the Revenge, a whole day. They could neither 
 board nor sink her, and would have fled dismayed 
 shattered and filled with slaughter from her terrible 
 crew, had not her last barrel of powder given out. 
 Almost every English captain was a Greenville and 
 every ship a Revenge. They rode the seas with a 
 triumphant assurance that they were its masters. Even 
 the dangers of the waves were despised. Their ill-built 
 barks were seldom tight. They leaked badly in the 
 very harbour. They were so small that the slightest 
 swell of the sea seemed sufficient to overwhelm them. 
 The provisions were usually bad and insufficient. 
 None of those inventions which relieve the hardships 
 of modern sailors were known to the Elizabethan navi- 
 gators. The science of navigation was yet to be 
 learned. The compass and the lead were their only 
 guides. Yet with such science and such vessels they 
 encountered the violent storms of the Bay of Biscay, 
 the dangers of the Atlantic, and the icebergs of the 
 Polar seas. In consequence many brave men perished, 
 many like Sir Humphrey Gilbert sank with ship and 
 crew in stormy nights and raging seas. 
 
 But the fate of the lost did not check the zeal of the 
 living. Rich prizes were daily arriving in English liar- 
 
TO THE OCEAN THE PATHWAY TO FAME., 
 
 bors, to stimulate avarice and adventure. The favorite 
 speculation with all classes was to embark their capital 
 in privateering. Elizabeth set the example to her people. 
 Seldom an expedition w r ent forth in which she had* not a 
 tenth or a fifth interest, and few prizes returned out of 
 which she did not exact something more than her share. 
 
 Indeed, it was generally allowed that in these matters 
 she often acted " but indifferently." She seemed neither 
 honest nor just when the plunder of a great galleon of 
 Andalusia came to be divided, and the gold, the jewels, 
 the spices, and the gums were allotted to the happy 
 adventurers. 
 
 The great nobles and wealthy merchants were as eager 
 for Spanish plunder as the queen. Few of the courtiers 
 of a military renown but had sailed at the head of a 
 squadron or a fleet in pursuit of the great galleons that 
 annually brought from America to Spain the wealth of 
 Mexico and Peru. The ocean glowed with gold and 
 silver, with pearls and diamonds for these noble adven- 
 turers. In it they found inexhaustible mines of wealth, 
 and dangers and triumphs sufficient to try their courage 
 and satisfy their ambition. 
 
 The ocean in those days was the pathway to fame. 
 Land service offered but little allurement to the soldier. 
 Elizabeth engaged in no great military expeditions. 
 Her wars in Holland or in Ireland were barren of laurels 
 or of plunder. She directed all the energies of her 
 people to naval expeditions. Her chief attention was 
 given to her navv. She perceived the true genius of 
 
71 
 
 her subjects for naval excellence. She resolved to mtike 
 England the ruler of the seas. Her nobles shared her 
 zeal. The Veres, the Howards, the Earl of Cumberland, 
 Essex, Carew, and Kaleigh led her fleets with a success 
 that first inspired in the minds of Englishmen the con- 
 sciousness of their true destiny. Drake, Frobisher and 
 Davis, of less elevated birth, of equal valor and of higher 
 skill, completed the design of Elizabeth. She reigned 
 over the ocean with a terrible supremacy. She strewed 
 its waves with the wrecks of Spanish commerce and 
 stained its distant bays with Spanish blood. 
 
 First among the buccaneer nobles stood Raleigh. He 
 had a vessel in almost every expedition that sailed. 
 When the Earl of Cumberland went with a squadron 
 to the South seas, Ealeigh's fine pinnace, the Dorothy, 
 accompanied him. In 1586 he sent out two pinnaces, 
 the Serpent and the Mary Sparke, at his own expense, 
 to cruise near the Azores. These puny cruisers seem to 
 have been hardly capable of crossing the English Chan- 
 nel. The Serpent was of but thirty-free tons burden, 
 the Mary Sparke of fifty. Yet they stood bravely out 
 across the boisterous Biscay, along the hostile coasts of 
 Portugal, careless of the dangers of the sea, and glowing 
 with the excitement of huntsmen in chase of a certain 
 prey. They drew near the Azores, where the English 
 were accustomed to lie in wait for the heavy-sailing 
 Spaniards, who knew no other homeward route from the 
 Indies. The little vessels now kept a keen watch. 
 Their sport soon began. They took first a small bark 
 
72 TIIEY ATTACK A SPANISH FLEET. 
 
 laden with, sumach, on board of which was the Governor 
 of St. Michaels. Then when westward of the island of 
 Tercera they descried another sail. It seemed to promise 
 a valuable prize. To conceal their intentions they 
 hoisted a white silk flag. The Spaniards, unsuspicious, 
 came sailing towards their foes, mistaking them for 
 Spanish armada on the lookout for English men-of-war. 
 " But when we came within gunshot," says Evesham, 
 the narrator of the voyage, " we took down our white 
 flag and spread abroad the cross of St. George, which 
 when they saw it made them fly as fast as they might ; 
 but all their haste was in vain, for our ships were swifter 
 of sail than they,, which they fearing did presently cast 
 all their ordnance and small shot, with many letters and 
 the drafts of the Straits of Magellan, into the sea, and 
 thereupon immediately we took her ; wherein also we 
 took a gentleman of Spain, named Pedro Sarmiento, 
 Governor of the Straits of Magellan, which said Pedro 
 we brought into England' with us, and presented him to 
 our sovereign lady, the queen." They took three more 
 prizes, and then attacked a fleet of twenty-four sail, two 
 of which were carraks of a thousand and twelve hundred 
 tons. Yet the Serpent and the Mary Sparke, of under 
 iifty tons each, were not intimidated. They rushed 
 upon the enemy with undoubting confidence. It was a 
 tempting lure. The fleet was laden with treasure, spices 
 and sugar. The adventurers might make their fortunes 
 at a blow. But the great carracks interposed their huge 
 bulk between the privateers and wealth. " We," con- 
 
KALEIGH STILL RISING. 73 
 
 tinues the narrator, " with two small pinnaces did fight 
 and kept company the space of thirty-two hours, con- 
 tinually fighting with them and they with us." But the 
 powder of the adventurers gave out and they were forced 
 to sail towards England. They came to Portsmouth six 
 hours after their prizes, where they were received with 
 " triumphant joy," great ordnance being shot off in their 
 honor, and the hearts of all the people of the city and 
 the neighboring country being filled with exultation. 
 " We not sparing our ordnance (with what powder we 
 had left) to requite and answer them again." From 
 thence they brought the prizes to Southampton, where 
 Sir Walter, the owner, divided among them their shares 
 of the sugars, the elephant teeth, the wax, hides and rice 
 with which they had been laden. 
 
 Raleigh was still rising. He was made captain of the 
 Queen's Guards, an office of great trust, and also lieu- 
 tenant-general of the county of Cornwall. His fortune 
 was improved by a gift of the forfeited lands of Babing- 
 ton, the conspirator. 
 
 He turned once more to America to make his final 
 attempt to colonize Virginia. His imagination still 
 lingered with delight upon its fair climate, its unknown 
 wealth, and the great continent which stretched within 
 it to tempt the untiring explorer. His plan of coloniza- 
 tion he resolved to make perfect. He appointed John 
 White governor of the new expedition, with twelve 
 assistants, and sent over settlers with wives and children 
 that they might readily form new homes in the wilder- 
 
 4- 
 
74: THE ISLAND OF EOAKOKE. 
 
 ness. They carried with, them agricultural tools, pro- 
 visions, and all things necessary to their support. In 
 1587, the fleet of three ships sailed for America. 
 
 Upon the island of Roanoke, where fifteen men had 
 been left by Greenville, they found a solitude. Melan- 
 choly traces of decay were around them. The forts and 
 houses built by the former settlers were indeed standing ; 
 but they were deserted. Yines had grown over the 
 walls, and within the wild deer were feeding upon their 
 fruit. The natives who had welcomed the first voyagers 
 so courteously were timid and hostile. Those who still 
 remained friendly told how the fifteen had been shot at 
 from behind the trees by their enemies with innumerable 
 arrows, had been hunted by an irresistible force to the 
 shelter of their houses, from thence to their boats, and 
 had finally fled to an unknown fate. 
 
 Under these auspices the city of Raleigh was founded 
 upon the deserted island, with a population of one 
 hundred and fifty disheartened settlers. It was the only 
 community upon the long coast from Florida to the 
 Pole. It shone with a flickering beam amid the sur- 
 rounding night. "When the ships returned to England 
 the colonists urged Governor White to return with them 
 and obtain new supplies, for they were already in want 
 of provisions. They dreaded starvation in the wilder- 
 ness. White at first refused. His honor he thought 
 bound him not to abandon his charge. At length he 
 yielded and departed for England, leaving at Ealeigh, 
 as a pledge of his fidelity, his daughter, and with her 
 
FATE OF THE CITY OF KALEIGII. 75 
 
 liis grandchild, Virginia Dare, the first native-born 
 white child of Virginia. 
 
 The inhabitants of the city of Raleigh met with a 
 mysterious doom. They were never heard of from the 
 moment that White left. On arriving in England he 
 found the whole nation preparing to struggle for self- 
 preservation against Spain. The Armada was approach- 
 ing. The finest troops of the continent were about to 
 be landed upon the shores of England. Every ship and 
 every man was required in self-defence. Nevertheless, 
 Raleigh prepared a fleet under Greenville to sail to the 
 relief of the colony. But Elizabeth sent down orders 
 forbidding their departure. At such a moment she 
 could not spare such a man as Greenville. Then Raleigh 
 sent out two pinnaces, but meeting some Rochelle men 
 of war, after a sharp fight tkey were obliged to return 
 to England in distress. 
 
 It was not until 1690 that Governor White was enabled 
 to return to the colony. He found the fated island once 
 more a solitude. JSTo trace appeared of his people, his 
 daughter, or his grandchild. It was too late in the 
 season for him to seek them among the unknown depths 
 of the wilderness. The natives who professed friendship 
 would only relate that they had wandered off to a distant 
 and unknown coast. Their wanderings were never 
 traced. A tradition relates that they mingled with the 
 natives and adopted the savage manners ; and the traces 
 of a higher order of intellectual and physical conforma- 
 tion, which were supposed to characterize the descend- 
 ants of one of the neighboring tribes, were afterwards 
 
76 THE ARMADA. 
 
 attributed to its union with the lost people of the city 
 of Raleigh. 
 
 Impoverished by the ill success of his attempts to 
 found a city, Raleigh had been obliged to give up his 
 patent to a company of merchant adventurers, among 
 whom, however, he could still hold a governing influence. 
 He had spent 40,000 in his various expeditions, a sum 
 immense in that period. He saw that private enterprise 
 could not found a state. He abandoned it with regret. 
 But the idea of trans- Atlantic achievements did not leave 
 him. His attention in future was to be turned from 
 North to South America. 
 
 When Philip H., roused to fury by the depredations 
 of English mariners, prepared to crush Elizabeth by a 
 tremendous blow, Raleigh was one of the most active in 
 resisting the Armada. He even proposed to the queen 
 to attack and destroy it in the very ports of Spain. He 
 was one of the leaders of that fleet which met the huge 
 ships of the enemy and drove them helpless and intimi- 
 dated through the British Channel, and far up along the 
 German sea, until the whole vast Armada was dashed to 
 pieces against the rocky barriers that guard the northern 
 borders of the British empire. 
 
 Leicester died in 1588, leaving behind him a repre- 
 sentative destined to gain a more powerful influence 
 over Elizabeth than ever he had enjoyed. It is said 
 that before he died he had grown jealous of Raleigh's 
 growing fame and power, and brought forward his 
 step-son the Earl of Essex to compete with the new 
 favorite. 
 
ROBERT DEVEREUX. 77 
 
 Yet at Leicester's death none seemed so valued by the 
 queen as Kaleigh. Everything promised him a complete 
 control of her affections. He was in his thirty-seventh 
 year. His fame had been extended by numerous ex- 
 ploits. His wisdom and experience in all the affairs of 
 war and government were undoubted. His revenue 
 must have been considerable. He lived with much 
 show and expense. He had done such service to the 
 nation as might well recommend him for the highest 
 preferment and the most distinguished fortune. But all 
 his fair prospects were to be clouded by the success of 
 his new competitor. 
 
 Robert Devereux was the son of the Earl of Essex, 
 to whose title he succeeded in childhood. He left his 
 University at sixteen, to retire to his estate in South 
 Wales. Here he grew enamored of retirement. He 
 was fond of letters, and believed that he could find hap- 
 piness, rather in the society of nature and of books, 
 than in the elevated station to which his birth and for- 
 tune invited him. The thoughtful, melancholy retiring 
 youth was reluctantly brought into the army by Leices- 
 ter, who had married his mother, and at length was 
 induced to appear at court. 
 
 Essex was the most engaging man of his time. His 
 soft melancholy eye won every heart. His fair classic 
 face, his noble bearing, his manly form, his open heart 
 and kindly nature were joined to undoubted bravery, 
 and a well-cultivated mind. He was full of the fire 
 and ardor of youth. His countenance, untrained to the 
 
78 ESSEX'S ADVANTAGES. 
 
 common artifice of a court, expressed every feeling, and 
 glowed with sensibility. 
 
 Elizabeth received him with natural admiration. He 
 was the son of an old servant who had died in her ser- 
 vice. His high birth entitled him to preferment. His 
 own qualities moved the heart of the queen, as those of 
 no other man had ever done. She lavished upon him high 
 offices. He was made at once her Master of the Horse. 
 In 1588 he became a general. And when the queen 
 received her army at Tilbury, riding along their ranks 
 with an undaunted air, as if in defiance of the coming 
 Armada, her affection for Essex was publicly displayed 
 in a manner that might well excite the alarm of his 
 rival. 
 
 "With the haughty spirit of a Tudor, Elizabeth prized 
 and distinguished high birth by a marked preference, 
 and this was not the least advantage which Essex pos- 
 sessed over Raleigh. To the queen he seemed to have 
 a better right to the great political offices, than the des- 
 cendant of a decayed family of knights. Yet in all the 
 qualities of the statesman and the soldier, Raleigh was the 
 undoubted superior of his competitor. Essex was too 
 hasty for a good general, too unskilled in naval affairs, 
 to excel upon the sea. Raleigh had all the traits which 
 his rival wanted. In command he was calm, prudent, 
 yet of dauntless valor. In counsel the extent of his 
 information, his long experience, his knowledge of men, 
 and his keen penetration, enabled him to give the wisest 
 and most appropriate advice. He was a man of matured 
 
EALEIGH AND ESSEX. 79 
 
 physical and mental powers. Essex was yet hardly 
 more than an engaging, gifted, but impetuous youth. 
 As a courtier Haleigh had every advantage. He knew 
 all the secrets of court intrigue. He had read the char- 
 acter of his mistress, and understood its excellence and 
 its defects. His nature was secretive. He could veil his 
 enmities and his jealousies under a mask of profound 
 concealment. He could smile as warmly upon his ene- 
 mies as upon his dearest friend. His heart was not 
 too warm to betray those whom he really admired, 
 should they come into dangerous competition with him- 
 self. His narrow fortunes and doubtful prospects drove 
 him to measures of perfidy to which his higher qualities 
 should have kept him a stranger. And as he now beheld 
 iiis generous rival thus suddenly stepping between him 
 and fortune, there is no doubt that a deadly resolution 
 entered his breast to crush while he admired him, to 
 pursue him by every art to disgrace, ruin, and death. 
 
 To Essex all artifice and systematic enmity were un- 
 known. He was not inclined to them by nature, his 
 circumstances had not been such as to familiarize them 
 to his mind. He had risen to the favor of the queen 
 and to high office with hardly a struggle. He had never 
 known the hopes, the disappointment, the bitter delays, 
 and the torturous anxieties of a needy adventurer rising 
 by court favor. His warm heart had never been frozen 
 by the chills of adverse fortune. His open nature had 
 never been clouded by the darker mysteries of court 
 intrigue. The thoughtful youth, who had fostered a 
 
80 THEIK RIVALRY. 
 
 modest dream of happiness amid his books and his Welsh 
 solitude, retained much of his native simplicity until the 
 last moment of his life. 
 
 The fatal rivalry began. Raleigh in secret conceived 
 a bitter jealousy of his more fortunate competitor. 
 Essex openly showed that he had already been taught 
 to regard Raleigh as a dangerous and traitorous foe. 
 They commenced at once a struggle for the queen's 
 favor. They contended on the battle-field which should 
 win the chief renown. They strove in the court circles 
 to outshine each by the splendor of their dress and the 
 gallantry of their bearing. Each sought by the extrava- 
 gance of his compliments and the ardor of his passion 
 to win the heart of their royal mistress. Elizabeth strove 
 to maintain something like impartiality. Even in her 
 favoritism she contrived to benefit her realm. Although 
 
 o 
 
 she loved Essex she continued to cherish Raleigh. She 
 resolved to profit by their rivalry and to direct their 
 energies, excited by emulation, to the fields where they 
 could be most useful. 
 
 It is painful to look forward to the fate of these emi- 
 nent men, so gifted by nature, so accomplished, so noble 
 minded, and so graced with those qualities that best 
 adorn their race to see the fair Essex, beloved by his 
 nation and his queen, hunted to desperation by court 
 intriguers and pressed by evil counsellors, lay his head 
 upon the block and die a convicted traitor in deed, 
 though no man ever believed him guilty in design, 
 while from a neighboring window his triumphant rival 
 
THE ENGLISH ATTEMPT TO CONQUER PORTUGAL. 81 
 
 looked down upon the tragedy which he had caused 
 and burst into irrepressible tears. Then gazing a little 
 further forward to witness Raleigh's doom : to behold 
 his warrior form, his active mind shut up for thirteen 
 years in a prison, lost to his age although perhaps gained 
 for future ages : to see that man of unrivalled genius 
 dragged before a hostile court to be taunted with 
 the coarsest abuse by a famous lawyer: to see that 
 eminent patriot pronounced a traitorous conspirator : 
 to behold him when palsied by age and quivering with 
 fever dragged forth to die upon the scaffold in the old 
 palace yard, near the spot where some years before he 
 had witnessed and wept over the death of Essex. 
 
 After the destruction of the Armada the English fell 
 with double fury upon Spain, 
 
 Philip II. saw with powerless rage his coasts plundered, 
 his commerce preyed upon, and his great naval ports 
 taken and burnt by his enemy. No exploit now seemed 
 impossible to the English. They even aspired to con- 
 quer Portugal from Philip and to place Don Antonio, a 
 branch of the ancient royal family, upon its throne. 
 
 This attempt to conquer a kingdom w r as a private 
 enterprise. It was projected and carried out by a union 
 of many eminent and wealthy men. The great naval 
 leaders contributed their services. The rich nobles and 
 citizens their wealth. Elizabeth aided the adventurers 
 with a few ships and a small sum of money. Sir Francis 
 Drake led the naval forces and Sir John Morris was to 
 command by land. It was an enterprise of the people. 
 
 4* 
 
82 FATE OF THE ADVENTUKEKS. 
 
 Twenty thousand volunteers joined it immediately. 
 The romantic adventure suited the genius of Englishmen. 
 Raleigh was one of the leaders. Essex fled secretly 
 from court to share its dangers. 
 
 The adventurers met with terrible disasters. They 
 plundered Groine, one of Philip's naval stations, and 
 besieged Lisbon. But disease and famine fell upon them. 
 Not more than half of them returned. Of seven hundred 
 gentlemen and nobles only three hundred and fifty 
 remained. The queen professed to be angry with Essex 
 for joining this expedition without her permission. His 
 marriage with the widow of Sidney soon after was a 
 more real cause of displeasure. She was provoked that 
 he should have chosen a lady of no higher station than 
 the daughter of Walsingham. Yet his power soon re- 
 vived. It is said that about this time he forced his rival 
 to leave the court. Raleigh went to Ireland in 1589, 
 where he renewed his intimacy with the poet Spenser. 
 
 It has been usual to complain of the lot of poets. 
 They have been painted as living in penury and dying 
 in want and neglect. The name of Spenser has been 
 used in proof of this, but with injustice to his age and 
 manifest untruth. The gifted courtiers of the Elizabethan 
 age did not overlook its greatest poet. Spenser, when 
 under twenty-five, was the friend of Sidney and patro- 
 nized by Leicester. He was the chosen companion of 
 both Essex and Raleigh. Lord Grey, as has been told, 
 made him his secretary for Ireland at twenty-seven. In 
 1586 Elizabeth gave him an estate of over three thousand 
 
SPENSER IN EJLCOLMAN CASTLE. 83 
 
 acres in Ireland, and later a considerable pension. Thus 
 early honored and enriched Spenser seems to have 
 attained a full share of worldly prosperity. 
 
 The poet had withdrawn to his Irish estate. His 
 home was Kilcolman Castle, in the county of Cork, a 
 spot surrounded by fine scenery. The castle stood upon 
 the banks of a fair lake, and was surrounded by a distant 
 belt of mountains. It was a lonely spot, but one whose 
 beauty must have solaced his loneliness. 
 
 He had already begun to people the wilderness with 
 fair and stately virgins, with adventurous knights, with 
 dwarfs and monsters, with Caelias and Speranzas, with 
 all the splendors of Gloriana's court. He had written 
 three books of the Fairy Queen. 
 
 Here in his own castle, with something of the state of 
 a knight of eld, Spenser received Raleigh. It was 
 natural that they should become firm friends. There 
 was much of romantic daring and untiring activity in 
 the character of Raleigh to allure the quiet poet. "While 
 Raleigh, who in his versatile ambition had himself 
 aspired to poetic excellence, recognized and admired in 
 Spenser the master of the art. Spenser in his lonely dig- 
 nity felt the want of a friend. He had just lost Sidney, 
 the paragon of his time, with whom he had lived in perfect 
 friendship. Raleigh seemed worthy of filling Sidney's 
 place. He was the man of all others most renowned 
 for his varied achievements, his eminent accomplish- 
 ments, and his fine taste in letters and art. In his manly 
 and heroic nature Spenser recognized the realization of 
 
84: KALEIGH UEGES THE PUBLICATION OF THE FAERY QUEEN. 
 
 those ideal heroes who had as yet floated only in his 
 fancy and been embodied in the lost Sidney. 
 
 Raleigh with his usual energy began immediately to 
 advance the fortune and fame of his friend. Until now 
 Spenser had proceeded languidly with his great work, 
 had even met with discouraging criticism from those to 
 whom he had submitted it. But Raleigh saw at once 
 its real value. He urged Spenser to accompany him to 
 London to publish the first three books. They came out 
 in 1590 under Raleigh's powerful protection. The fame 
 of Spenser went through England. He was acknow- 
 ledged the finest poet that England had ever known. He 
 was introduced to the queen, who admired and rewarded 
 him. He received a pension of fifty pounds, and was 
 the acknowledged court poet. 
 
 Thus the Fairy Queen is the best monument of 
 Raleigh's fine literary taste. Without his just apprecia- 
 tion it might never have been known to its endless 
 succession of admirers. The poet, discouraged by 
 unfavorable criticism and by his own inactivity, might 
 have suppressed it altogether. And those sweetly 
 modulated verses, that vivid play of grotesque imagina- 
 tion, that pure antiquated diction, and those ingenious 
 interweavings of double allegories, of various truths, 
 of delicately shadowed moralities, which have been 
 the study and the wonder of succeeding generations of 
 poets, might have faded and been forgotten within the 
 crumbling walls of Kilcolman Castle. 
 
 The Fairy Queen was dedicated to Elizabeth. " The 
 
HIS VEESES IN ITS PKAISE. 85 
 
 most high, mightie, and magnificent Empresse." The 
 letter or argument prefixed to it is addressed to Raleigh, 
 " the right noble and valorous." In this preface Spen- 
 ser explains the nature of his poem. It is to be a 
 narrative of unreal adventures and imaginary beings 
 which yet are the types of actual life. Spenser believed 
 that he could make this method of inculcating truth more 
 interesting than any other. He urges that Xenophon is 
 preferred to Plato because he has written allegory. He 
 hopes to win men to morality by representing vice in 
 hideous shapes and virtue in forms of superhuman 
 beauty. He declares that his Fairy Queen is his royal 
 mistress Elizabeth. But that she is also typified as a 
 fair and virtuous lady in other characters. He con- 
 cludes with a modest request for Raleigh's continued 
 favor and friendship. 
 
 Raleigh wrote verses in praise of the poem in which 
 he represents the graces as abandoning the Grave of 
 Laura to follow the Fairy Queen. In which Petrarch 
 weeps with envy, oblivion falls upon the herse of Laura, 
 and even Homer trembles at the new ravisher of fame. 
 But the reader will probably wish to have some speci- 
 men of his poetical powers, and I introduce, therefore, 
 the first encomium. 
 
 A VISION, 
 
 Upon this conceipt of the Faery Queene 
 
 Methought I saw the grave where Laura lay, 
 Within that Temple where the vestal flame 
 Was wont to burn ; and passing by that way, 
 
86 SPENSER PROFITS BY HIS FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 To see the buried dust of living fame, 
 Whoso tomb faire Love and fairer Virtue kept, 
 
 All suddenly I saw the Faery Queene : 
 At whose approach the soule of Petrarke wept ; 
 
 And from thenceforth those Graces were not seene ; 
 (For they this Queene attended.) in whose steed, 
 
 Oblivion laid him down on Laura's herse ; 
 Kereat the hardest stones were seen to bleed, 
 
 And grones of buried ghostes the heavens did perse ; 
 
 Where Homer's spright did tremble all for griefe, 
 
 And cursed th' accesse of that celestial thiefe. 
 
 W. R. 
 
 Spenser returned to his Irish castle covered with 
 honors and emolument. For these he knew how much 
 he was indebted to Ealeigh. He felt deeply grateful. 
 In 1595, upon publishing his pastoral, " Colin Clout's 
 come home again," he dedicated it to Raleigh with ex- 
 pressions of deep gratitude. He begs Ealeigh to accept 
 of the poem " in part paiment of the infinite debt, in 
 which I acknowledge myself bounden unto you for your 
 singular favors and sundrie good turns shewed to me at 
 my late being in England ; I pray continually for your 
 happinesse." 
 
 The pastoral is a poetic narrative of his own journey 
 to England. Ealeigh, who is called the Shepherd of the 
 Ocean, being banished from court by Elizabeth, " the 
 Ladie of the Sea," in his wanderings discovers Colin, 
 the poet, piping in the shade and singing the charms of 
 the Mulla, a stream that flowed through Spenser's estate. 
 Ealeigh is charmed by the rustic strain, and himself 
 accompanies the pipe of Colin with a song. 
 
HIS PASTORAL. 87 
 
 His song was all a lamentable lay, 
 
 Of great unkindnesse and of usage hard 
 Of Cynthia, the ladie of the sea, 
 
 "Which from her presence faultless him debarde. 
 
 He next persuades Colin to leave the wilderness and 
 accompany lihn to the court of Cynthia, whom he repre- 
 sents as excelling all her sex in wit and grace, beauty 
 and generosity. Colin follows his new friend taking 
 with him only his " oaten quill." The Shepherd of the 
 Sea leads him safely over the boisterous ocean, and they 
 reach the presence of Cynthia ; her glorious beauty over- 
 whelms the imagination of the rural poet, he despairs 
 of being able to describe her properly by all his rustic 
 imagery, and he likens her to a virgin bride adorned 
 with roses, goolds and daffodils, to the circlet of the 
 turtle dove and the hues of the rainbow. The Shepherd 
 introduces Colin to this goddess and inclines her ear to 
 his rude melodies, so that at timely hours she delights 
 in his society and his song. Colin then sings the beauty 
 of the great ladies whom he saw at the court of Cynthia, 
 but declares them all inferior to their queen, professes 
 his deathless gratitude to her, and promises that he will 
 make her name to be remembered long after his pipe 
 shall have ceased to sound for ever. 
 
 This pastoral was a worthy return for Raleigh's favors 
 happily he was one who could perceive its worth. It 
 is full of delicate and ingenious allegory. Its simplicity 
 and propriety are wonderful. To be understood, like all 
 other works of art it must be studied. The careless 
 
88 RALEIGH KESTOKED TO FAVOK. 
 
 reader would probably pass it by in disgust. Yet there 
 are few English poems more capable of exciting wonder 
 and delight than this graceful narrative by Spenser of 
 Raleigh's active friendship. 
 
 Restored to favor, Raleigh soon gave an instance of 
 the liberality of his religious opinions. He interceded 
 with the queen for Udall, a learned Puritan, who had 
 displeased her by writing a book against the bishops. 
 For this offence he had been thrown into prison, and 
 bound with fetters. The crown lawyers could find no 
 proof sufficient for his conviction, but the judges, before 
 whom he appeared, by a fraud induced the jury to con- 
 vict him. Udall stubbornly refused to recant his opin- 
 ions and was condemned to die. In religious matters 
 Elizabeth had all the cruel self-will of her father, Henry 
 YHI. She would never permit the subject to profess a 
 different creed from that of the sovereign. She punished 
 an obstinate dissenter more unsparingly than a conspira- 
 tor. Udall's friends came to Raleigh to beg his inter- 
 cession. He consented and spoke with the queen. 
 James of Scotland also interceded for the brave Puritan, 
 who unhappily died in prison, just as his full pardon 
 had been obtained. 
 
 In 1691, the famous Sir Richard Greenville waged 
 his last and most terrible fight with the Spaniards. His 
 ship, the Revenge, was surrounded, taken, and its com- 
 mander made a prisoner, although mortally wounded. 
 Raleigh wrote an account of the engagement to per- 
 petuate the memory of his friend's valor, and to rebuke 
 
FATE OF THE REVENGE. 89 
 
 the idle boasting of the Spaniards over the capture of a 
 single English ship. 
 
 The fight had been long and bloody. The Revenge 
 had formed one of a small English fleet which had been 
 suddenly attacked by a large Spanish fleet. Lord Thomas 
 Howard, who commanded, knowing that his ships were 
 in bad condition as well as greatly inferior to the enemy, 
 determined to avoid an engagement. He gave the signal 
 to escape. The Revenge was the last to obey. Unfor- 
 tunately she was overtaken by a huge Spanish ship, the 
 San Philip, of fifteen hundred tons, mounting four tiers 
 of guns, which by its great bulk took the wind from her 
 sails and left her immovable at its side. 
 
 Four -other large ships immediately attacked her, two 
 upon each side. The Revenge was but a small vessel 
 of a few hundred tons, with only a hundred men fit for 
 duty : the Spanish ships were crowded with soldiers. 
 Yet so fierce was the English fire that the San Philip 
 was soon forced to retreat. The battle began at three 
 o'clock in the afternoon : it continued with unceasing 
 fury through the night. If the Spaniards attempted to 
 board they were beaten back to their ships or flung into 
 the sea. Their fire of cannon and musketry was 
 answered by one more fatal and dreadful. Fifteen 
 Spanish vessels attacked the single English bark and 
 were defeated. 
 
 But as the morning light increased the English 
 crew diminished. Forty of the hundred were already 
 dead, many of the others wounded. Sir Richard, 
 
00 RALEIGH'S NARRATIVE OF THE FIGHT. 
 
 an hour before midnight, had been shot through 
 the body ; he now lay dying below. As the English 
 cast their weary eyes over the sea for help they 
 saw none of their friends near save a single pinnace 
 that was watching afar the event of the fight. They 
 were alone in the midst of their foes. The last barrel 
 of powder was nearly spent. The. boarding-pikes w T ere 
 nearly all broken. The masts were shot away, and 
 the ship had no motion but that given to it by the swell 
 of the sea. 
 
 Greenville saw that he had but one resource. He 
 resolved to die. He sent for his master gunner, upon 
 whose courage he felt he could rely, and ordered him 
 to sink the ship, that he might, at least, escape, the dis- 
 grace of being taken. He was resolved, he said, that 
 the Spaniards should not have the credit of having 
 captured a single English ship. The master gunner 
 would have cheerfully obeyed the command, but the 
 other officers and crew interfered. They secretly sur- 
 rendered to the enemy. 
 
 The Spaniards, amazed at the courage of the English, 
 entered the Revenge with an emotion of awe and 
 respect. They found her a wreck filled with her 
 wounded and her dead. They brought Greenville 
 fainting on board of their admiral's ship, where he was 
 treated with great courtesy. But he died a few days 
 after. 
 
 In this narrative Raleigh assails the Spaniards with 
 violent invectives, that mark well the feelings of his 
 
HIS HATRED OF SPAIN. 91 
 
 age. To the Englishmen of that day Spain was an 
 object of abhorrence, Its pride, its cruelty, and its 
 ambition were the terror of Protestant lands. Raleigh, 
 therefore, dwells with exultation upon the humiliating 
 losses which it had lately sustained upon the sea. He 
 declares that God fights against the Spaniard. He 
 points in confirmation to the vast fleets of prizes that 
 had been brought into English harbors, to the multitude 
 of Spaniards shot down at sea or plunged into its 
 depths. He then relates instances of their cruelty. 
 He recounts how they had massacred all religions and 
 parties in Sicily, Naples, and the Low countries. How 
 by the confession of one of their own bishops, Las 
 Casas, they had destroyed by their cruelties three 
 millions of people in their own Indies. " Who," he 
 exclaims to his countrymen, " who would put trust in a 
 nation of ravenous strangers." The burden of his nar- 
 rative is deadly hatred to Spain. 
 
 From his pen he flew to his sword. The Panama 
 expedition was preparing. Raleigh was one of its 
 chief promoters. It was designed to attack the Spanish 
 American colonies. Raleigh took the chief command, 
 having taken with him the noted mariner Sir Martin 
 Erobisher. The queen sent thirteen ships, the others 
 were supplied through Raleigh's influence or at his own 
 expense. Hardly had he sailed when the queen sent 
 him orders to return. He could not resolve to obey at 
 once. He remained with the fleet until he learned that 
 the King of Spain had sent orders to the galleons not to 
 
92 IS IN DISGRACE AT COURT. 
 
 sail. He then changed his plan and having divided 
 the fleet into two squadrons, one of which was to 
 threaten the enemy's coast, while the other was to lie in 
 wait for the passing caracks, he returned to England. 
 
 His plan was rewarded with an unusual prize. The 
 English were told at Flores that an East Indian carrack 
 had jiist passed. They pursued and rifled her. Then 
 they learned that another and far greater carrack was 
 approaching. The ships spread out over the sea more 
 than two leagues apart to intercept the stranger. At 
 length the fated Madre de Dios appeared. She was the 
 richest prize the English had ever taken. She was of 
 sixteen hundred tons burden, and valued at five hun- 
 dred thousand pounds. As she came into Dartmouth 
 the shores were lined with spectators who filled the air 
 with their acclamations. Elizabeth claimed a large 
 share of the plunder, on the ground that a small ship 
 of her own fleet had been present at the capture, and 
 Raleigh paid her for her proportion one hundred thou- 
 sand pounds, the largest sum, he asserts, ever given by 
 a subject to a sovereign. 
 
 When the Madre de Dios arrived in port, Raleigh 
 was in disgrace a prisoner in the Tower. He had 
 formed a passion for one of the queen's maids of honor, 
 the beautiful daughter of Sir Nicholas Throgmorton. 
 Elizabeth was incensed at his fault. She sent both the 
 offenders to the Tower. Raleigh afterwards married the 
 lady, who proved an excellent and devoted wife. 
 
 A letter from Gorges, to Cecil, relates the extrava- 
 
HIS CONDUCT IN THE TOWEK. 93 
 
 gant conduct of Raleigh while a prisoner, and was 
 probably written to be shown to the queen. Raleigh 
 had heard that Elizabeth was at Sir George Carew's 
 and was about to make a progress. He vowed he 
 would disguise himself, get a pair of oars, and fly to 
 ease himself with a sight of the queen ; else he pro- 
 tested his heart must break. Carew, the jailer, refused 
 to let him pass out of the Tower. In the dispute they 
 rose from choleric words to a violent struggle. They 
 even drew their daggers. Gorges, who was present, 
 interfered. But Sir "Walter swore he would never 
 forgive Carew as long as he lived if he did not allow 
 him to see the queen pass. 
 
 If this scene were really enacted, it was but one of 
 those court artifices by which Elizabeth's favor was 
 won. Or perhaps it was only a pleasant fiction com- 
 posed by Gorges to serve the purpose of his friend. 
 On a slip of paper fastened by wax to the letter was 
 the following postscript: "If you let the queen her 
 majesty know hereof, as you think good be it ; but 
 otherwise, good sir, keep it secret for their credits, for 
 they know not of my discovery whereof I could wish 
 her majesty knew." 
 
 Another letter from Raleigh to Cecil, indicates the 
 common language of the courtiers in speaking of 
 Elizabeth. " My heart," he writes, " was never broke 
 until this day that I hear the queen goes away so far 
 off, whom I have followed so many years with so great 
 love and desire in so many journeys, and am now left 
 
94: HIS COMPLAINTS. 
 
 behind her in a prison all alone. "While she was near 
 at hand, that I might hear of her once in two or three 
 days, my sorrows were the less, but even now my heart 
 is cast into the depths of all misery. I was wont to 
 behold her riding like Alexander, hunting like Diana, 
 walking like Yenus, the gentle wind blowing her fair 
 hair about her pure cheeks, sometimes sitting on the 
 shade like a goddess, sometimes singing like an angel, 
 sometimes playing like Orpheus ; behold the sorrow of 
 this world ! once amiss hath deprived me of all. All 
 those times past, the loves, the sighs, the sorrows, the 
 desires, cannot they weigh down one frail misfortune ? 
 She is gone, in whom I trusted, and of me hath not one 
 thought of mercy, nor any respect of that that was. 
 Do with me now therefore, what you list. I am more 
 weary of life than they are desirous I should perish, 
 which if it had been for her, as it is by her, I had been 
 too happily born." 
 
 In these complaints and this extravagant adulation 
 there was some sincerity. Humiliated and fallen Raleigh 
 must have perceived his loss. To the courtier the want 
 of his mistress' favor was intolerable. "With it he was 
 powerful, strong, hopeful. Its loss made him nothing. 
 To her courtiers the proud queen seemed next in power 
 to Divinity. To her they looked for bounty, protection 
 and support. She inspired them with fear and hope. 
 Her imperious will, even in her tenderest moments, 
 awed and subdued them. It is not wonderful, therefore, 
 that to their eyes she was something more than woman. 
 
HIS LOSSES. 95 
 
 That her faded charms seemed surpassingly beautiful. 
 That her smile transported them with passion. That her 
 spare form and haughty tread seemed to glow with the 
 effulgence of a goddess. 
 
 Raleigh now felt that for an earthly mistress he had 
 lost the favor of this divinity. He had wounded her 
 vanity, her tenderest point. Thrice had Elizabeth been 
 thus deceived. Leicester, Essex, Ealeigh had each 
 dared to love another while professing a boundless 
 attachment to herself. She had relented to the others, 
 and at length pardoned Raleigh. He was confined imtil 
 September, 1592, when he went to the west of England 
 to look after his share of the Madre de Dios. It proved 
 large. Yet he complains that she drew several feet less 
 water than when first taken, from the large .quantities 
 of gems and treasure of which she had been plundered 
 by his fellow adventurers. 
 
 He now wanted this supply. During his imprison- 
 ment his enemies had taken advantage of his disgrace 
 to injure his fortune. They had levied for a pretended 
 debt upon his Irish estate, and seized five hundred head 
 of cattle belonging to his tenantry. They had even 
 taken possession of one of his castles, about which there 
 was some legal contest; and had inflicted upon him 
 other indignities. It was a part of Elizabeth's policy to 
 prove to him that as she had given she could also take 
 away. That her favor was not to be forfeited withoul 
 severe retribution. In the session of Parliament of the 
 year 1693, he was a frequent speaker. His power in 
 
96 SIR WALTER IN PARLIAMENT. 
 
 debate was not less than his other gifts. His remarkable 
 versatility seemed to embrace all intellectual excellence. 
 
 When the subsidy, which the queen demanded for 
 the support of her military expeditions, was being dis- 
 cussed, some members proposed that the bill should 
 declare that they were given for the purpose of waging 
 open war with Spain. Sir "Walter rose to support the 
 motion. Hostilities had been heretofore carried on 
 against Philip without an open declaration of war. 
 Raleigh advocated a change of policy. He said he 
 knew many that held it unlawful in conscience, as the 
 times were, to take prizes from the Spaniards, who, if 
 war were declared, would enter with ardor into the 
 contest. He was one of those appointed to draw the 
 preamble of the bill, and defended it by a speech glow- 
 ing with his usual hatred against Spain. He said Philip 
 hated England and had beleagured it on all sides. In 
 Denmark he had brought over the young king and the 
 chief nobility to his interest, so that his shipping might 
 use its harbors as their own. All through the Low 
 Countries he was collecting a great fleet. The French 
 Parliament was in his interest, and the best havens of 
 Brittany in his power. Scotland had been won by the 
 promise of an army to re-establish popery. While in 
 Spanish ports sixty galleons were building and a new 
 armada was preparing to seize upon Plymouth and 
 invade England. The times, Ealeigh asserted, were 
 more dangerous than in 1588. 
 
 This was the anticipation that haunted Englishmen. 
 
DANGEK FROM SPAIN. 3Y 
 
 Spain was still believed to possess inexhaustible re- 
 sources. Her land forces and her generals were known 
 to be the best in Europe. On the sea she might pre- 
 pare a fleet of such vast weight of tonnage and metal, 
 as would defy the assaults of the more skillful English, 
 and sink their light vessels in the waves. Terrible 
 visions therefore rose before the public mind, of a Span- 
 ish army marching upon London ; of the returning rule 
 of a pitiless Inquisition ; of the approach of the . hated 
 Philip, to light anew the fires of Smithfield with a 
 more unsparing hand, than when, as the husband of 
 Mary, he had wreaked the vengeance of Rome upon 
 Ridley and Latimer. The -Spanish Inquisition was no 
 imaginary thing to Englishmen. They had felt the 
 cruel grasp of the Inquisitor, and had seen with horror 
 the smoke of many an auto-de-f^. The same Philip 
 who now threatened them with subjugation, had 
 governed England in the name of Mary, had introduced 
 the Spanish mode of treating with Protestants, had 
 answered their arguments by the whip, the flame, the 
 stake. 
 
 Raleigh thought himself bound to combat Spain by 
 his pen, his voice, his sword. The queen and the 
 people acknowledged his patriotic zeal. Elizabeth felt 
 the value of his services. He regained her favor. In 
 1593 he obtained by her gift the Manor of Sherbroke, 
 and not long after had hopes of being admitted of the 
 Privy Council. 
 
 About this time the charge of Atheism was first 
 
 5 
 
98 RALEIGH CHARGED WITH ATHEISM. 
 
 brought against him. A charge that was seized upon 
 by his enemies to diminish his power, and which has 
 been countenanced among posterity by the insinuations 
 of Hume. Its origin proves it to have been groundless. 
 The King of Spain had founded at Valladolid an Eng- 
 lish cloister designed to propagate the Roman Catholic 
 dogmas and politics in England. Elizabeth met the 
 danger by a severe proclamation against foreign semi- 
 naries and popish emissaries. Of this measures Raleigh 
 was supposed the chief instigator. He became an 
 object of bitter hatred to the Jesuits. Parsons, one of 
 their number, having written a violent libel against the 
 various members of the queen's court, who had been 
 instrumental in advising the late proceeding against his 
 own sect, endeavored to fasten upon Raleigh the stigma 
 of Atheism. He accuses him of belonging to a class 
 of thinkers who had lately arisen in France and Italy, 
 and who doubted the prevailing belief. Of this school 
 the Jesuit calls Raleigh a doctor and founder, and asserts 
 that he was engaged in disseminating its principles 
 among the young gentlemen of the court. 
 
 His enemies never permitted the accusation to be for- 
 gotten. It was constantly repeated to the queen, until 
 Elizabeth is said to have so far believed it as to sharply 
 rebuke Raleigh for the freedom of his opinions. It was 
 generally believed among the people. And when the 
 chief justice pronounced sentence of death upon him, he 
 alluded, with malicious pleasure, to the common report, 
 urging Raleigh to repent of his unchristian speculations. 
 
CHARACTER OF HIS INTELLECT. 09 
 
 Raleigh's mind was of a thoughtful cast, skeptical, 
 earnest, and of untiring activity. Upon every subject 
 he probably reasoned and spoke freely. It could hardly 
 have happened that men like Bacon, Burleigh, Coke and 
 Cecil, Raleigh and Essex could have met often without 
 much liberal discussion upon theological dogmas. It 
 was likely that in the antiquarian society to which 
 Raleigh belonged, in company with Camden and many 
 other learned men, and where a wide range of subjects 
 were debated weekly, by the best intellects of a gifted age, 
 there would be many opinions avowed and maintained, 
 that must differ much from the standard of the day. 
 But beside his own fearless independence of thought 
 there is nothing that supports the charge of the Jesuits. 
 His writings, and especially his history, teem with recog- 
 nitions of the Divine power. He died professing the 
 Protestant faith, in communion with the church, and 
 under the ministration of one of its dignitaries. 
 
 Robert Cecil was now fast rising to power. He was 
 the son of Lord Burleigh, the heir of his consummate 
 tact. His deformed body concealed a master mind. 
 Lord Burleigh was poor, and Cecil felt that he must rise 
 as his father had risen. He was now of sufficient im- 
 portance to become the rival and professed friend of 
 both Essex and Raleigh. There is no doubt that Cecil 
 looked upon these gifted men from the first with envious 
 dislike. They possessed all that he must ever want, the 
 admiration of their queen, uncommon natural advan- 
 tages, the fame of heroes, and the applause of their 
 
100 EL DOKADO. 
 
 country. They Lad risen to power by no low chicanery. 
 They were graced with a taste for letters, to which the 
 narrow mind of Cecil was a stranger. They adorned 
 their age with a matchless grace that he could never 
 hope to rival. Yet the misshapen intriguer never 
 doubted his own success. In the elevated natures of his 
 rivals he saw hope for himself. Far as they seemed 
 above him he felt that he could bring them down to the 
 dust. He felt that with all their advantages they had 
 great weaknesses. He relied upon their errors. Ra- 
 leigh's ever-soaring imagination, and the impetuous 
 nature of Essex, were to Cecil sure presages of his own 
 triumph. He at first joined himself to Raleigh, and 
 used his influence against the earl. When Essex was 
 no more he sacrificed his pretended friend. Both Ra- 
 leigh and Essex became Cecil's victims. 
 
 An El Dorado was now glowing before Raleigh's 
 sanguine fancy, and employing all his versatile faculties. 
 He believed that he had discovered a land where the 
 cities were paved with silver, the palaces lined and 
 roofed with gold, where a descendant of thelncas reigned 
 with a splendor unexampled even in Peru. It was no 
 mere speculation like that which had allured him to 
 Virginia, but one that rested on the authority of an eye- 
 witness, who had visited Manoa, and whose account was 
 rendered probable by concurrent circumstances and the 
 traditions of the Spaniards. He believed that he could 
 point out the very site of the city ; that he could reach 
 it with little trouble. It was lying a ready prey for the 
 
ITS ALLUREMENTS. 101 
 
 invader. Its stores of gold and precious stones might 
 readily be ravished from the feeble inhabitants. They 
 would make England the wealthiest of nations. 
 
 The El Dorado was hidden amid the wilderness of 
 Guiana, the northeastern province of South America. 
 Here Raleigh sailed with an expedition prepared at his 
 own expense, with the hope of regaining his wonted 
 influence over the queen and repairing his fortune by 
 some sudden exploit. The result was unfortunate. In- 
 stead of a city of gold he found only a frightful wilder- 
 ness, and a small Spanish settlement. He penetrated 
 up the river Orinoco in boats, but found nothing that 
 encouraged him to hope. Except some Spanish legends 
 and marvellous inventions he gained nothing that could 
 assure him of the existence of the city. His confidence 
 however outlived the disappointment. He returned to 
 England with his imagination glowing with wonders. 
 He published an account of his voyage, in which he 
 asserted his belief that, notwithstanding his own ill suc- 
 cess, there did exist a city and an empire within the 
 limits of Guiana, fairer, richer and more splendid than 
 his tongue could tell. 
 
 Hume, who did not understand Raleigh, and who 
 never had a just conception of heroic nature, pronounces 
 this narrative to be full of " improbable lies." He evi- 
 dently supposes that Ealeigh wished to impose upon the 
 world, but with what motive he does not tell. If it 
 were a deceit, Raleigh was the only one who would suffer 
 from the deception. It was at his expense, or that of 
 
102 HUME UNABLE TO UNDERSTAND EALEIGH. 
 
 his friends, that the expedition against Guiana was pre- 
 pared. He risked his own life upon the adventure. 
 He crossed dangerous seas, penetrated into a barbarous 
 wilderness, threw himself amid the savage inhabitants, 
 and returned with the broken-hearted anguish of a dis- 
 appointed discoverer. Here are no traces of deception. 
 ]STo preconcerted plan of imposition, nothing to be gained 
 by the fraud. 
 
 Hume was blind to that dreamy enthusiasm which 
 marked the characters of the eminent men of this age, to 
 the peculiar earnestness and elevation of their thoughts, 
 the grand and fanciful nature of their speculations. He 
 could not understand how the wise* and prudent Raleigh 
 could yet be enslaved by the most sanguine of imagina- 
 tions. How he who fought and studied and wrote so 
 well could be living in a world of dreams, and be ever 
 deluded by some constantly recurring phantom. He 
 smiled scornfully upon the euphuistic pages of the Arca- 
 dia, the fanciful glories of the Fairy Queen. To his 
 philosophy all enthusiasm, was imposture. He could 
 not believe that a wise man could be an enthusiast ; if 
 he professed to be governed by an extraordinary motive, 
 he must do it with an intent to deceive. 
 
 Raleigh relates his impressions of El Dorado and 
 whence they came in a manner that might have con- 
 vinced the historian of his sincerity. He writes with 
 simplicity, earnestness and confidence. "Many years 
 ago," he states, " I knew by relation of that mighty, rich 
 and beautiful empire of Guiana, and of that great and 
 
EL DORADO. 103 
 
 golden city, which the Spaniards call El Dorado, and 
 the naturals Manoa, which city was conquered, re-edified 
 and enlarged by a younger son of Guianacapa, Emperor 
 of Peru, at such time as Francis Pizarro and others 
 conquered said empire from his two elder brothers." 
 Thus the vision first rose upon his mind. It was sus- 
 tained by many circumstances. In itself it was not 
 more improbable than the discoveries and conquests 
 which had already been made. The achievements of 
 Cortes and Pizarro, magnified by common report, had 
 equalled the picture which Raleigh drew. They had in 
 fact found cities in which were temples and palaces 
 roofed with gold, in which the precious metals were 
 almost as common as iron and lead in England. The 
 eastern border of South America, upon which El Dorado 
 was reported to be situated, was wholly unexplored. It 
 was known only to be watered by immense rivers, and 
 its interior to be hidden from the world by a broad 
 wilderness. No good reason could be given why, within 
 this circle of gloom, a city like Cuzco might not be found. 
 It was, indeed, very likely that that capital was not the 
 only city upon the vast continent. Tradition indicated 
 another, and tradition had been the guide which led 
 Pizarro to Peru. He had followed the intimations of 
 the natives and found the land of gold. 
 
 These considerations, which might have made the 
 existence of El Dorado appear probable to the coolest 
 reasoner of the time, had a far stronger effect upon the 
 sanguine temper of Raleigh. With him the bare tradi- 
 
101 HIS DESIGN IN PUBLISHING HIS NARRATIVE. 
 
 tioii became a received truth'. His imagination fired at 
 the glowing and imposing nature of its details. The 
 fables of Martinez, who pretended to have visited the city, 
 to have spent two days in passing from one extremity 
 to the other, and to have witnessed every fact he related, 
 were the confirmation of his vision. His ambition urged 
 him to believe, his declining favor made it almost 
 necessary to his safety to discover some new field of 
 enterprise. Here was one that offered to him fame, 
 wealth and power, such as no other subject could boast. 
 Should his expedition succeed he would be the greatest 
 subject of the realm hp should outvie Essex, bafile 
 Cecil, and win the lasting preference of the queen. 
 Sad delusion that it was, it brought him to the scaf- 
 fold! 
 
 His object in publishing his narrative was to gain the 
 support of the queen and the public to a new expedi- 
 tion. He had returned from his first attempt brokeri in 
 health and injured in fortune. "For myself," said he, 
 " I am a beggar and withered." Yet he declares he 
 will spend his life in the pursuit of the golden city. 
 With great art and plausibility he recommends the 
 scheme to his countrymen. "If any one," he adds, 
 " shall occupy and conquer the same, he would do more 
 than ever was done to Mexico by Cortes or in Peru by 
 Pizarro. Whatsoever prince shall possess it, that prince 
 shall be lord of more gold and of a more beautiful 
 empire and more cities and people than either the 
 king of Spain or the Great Turk." He describes it as 
 
WONDEKS OF THE EL DORADO. 105 
 
 lying beneath the equinoctial line eastward from Peru, 
 toward the sea. It stood by the side of a lake resem- 
 bling in size the Caspian Sea. It resembled Cuzco but 
 was more magnificent. The service of its palaces was 
 all of gold. Great golden statues adorned their cham- 
 bers, and the commonest utensils were made of silver. 
 It was even related that it had gardens in which trees, 
 flowers, and fruits were wrought of gold. 
 
 He declines to enter upon an account of the manners, 
 laws, and character of its people, because he had not 
 visited it in person and could give only the report of 
 others. He enlarges upon the wonders which will in 
 that wilderness gratify the curiosity of the explorer. 
 He tells that the river Orinoco runs two thousand miles 
 east and west, and sends forth its tributaries eight hun- 
 dred north and south, amid a country rich in gold and 
 merchandise and peopled with prosperous nations. 
 
 He adds that " the common soldier shall here fight 
 for gold and pay himself, instead of pence, with plate 
 half a foot broad, where he breaks his bones in others' 
 wars for provender and penury. Those commanders 
 that shoot at honor and abundance shall find more rich 
 and beautiful cities, more temples adorned with golden 
 images, more sepulchres filled with treasure than either 
 Cortes found in Mexico, or Pizarro in Peru. There is 
 no country which yields more pleasure to the inhabitants 
 either for those common delights of hunting, hawking, 
 and fishing than Guiana hath." 
 . When this splendid vision was presented to English- 
 
106 
 
 men, authenticated by the wise, valiant, and powerful 
 Raleigh, it was received with a mingled credulity and 
 doubt. The ore which he had brought back proved 
 worthless. His success in Yirginia had not been such 
 as to support his authority in these matters. There he 
 had promised mines of gold and boundless conquests, 
 but there his plan of colonization had been wholly 
 foiled. A suspicion was already abroad that Sir 
 Walter's plans of discovery were of doubtful worth. 
 Yet there were many who yielded to his eloquence. 
 In December, 1595, he was already preparing an expe- 
 dition for Guiana with new hopes of success. " There 
 be great means made," writes White to Sir Robert 
 Sidney ; "for Sir Walter Raleigh's coming to court. 
 He lives about London very gallant. His voyage goes 
 forward and my Lord Treasurer ventures with him 
 Five hundred pound in money. Sir Robert Cecil ven- 
 tures a new ship, bravely furnished ; the very hull 
 stands in Eight hundred pound." 
 
 Keymis, his faithful captain, was to command the 
 expedition. He sailed in January 1596, and returned 
 in June. Keymis was wholly unsuccessful. He 
 returned without a trace of the imaginary wealth which 
 had been promised. Yet he continued to keep up the 
 delusion. He published an account of his voyage in 
 which he promises that when in some other age some 
 fortunate adventurer shall discover and admire the 
 the riches of the place, they shall celebrate the public- 
 spirit of Sir Walter Raleigh. He declares that the rest 
 
THE EXPEDITION TO CADIZ. 107 
 
 f his life should be dedicated to the discovery and 
 Conquest of that fine country." 
 
 At his captain's return Raleigh was gone with the 
 expedition against Cadiz. Elizabeth, alarmed at 
 the force which Philip was forming in his harbors, 
 resolved to destroy it before it could be united. This 
 plan had been suggested by Sir Walter in 1588. He 
 was now to be permitted to carry it out with perfect 
 success. Cadiz was full of merchantmen laden with 
 precious commodities, with the material of those arma- 
 ments that were to conquer England. 
 
 The queen sent forth upon this expedition the splen- 
 did retinue of her court. It was led by those whom 
 she most favored and admired. Lord Efiingham com- 
 manded the naval force, Essex the army. To these 
 were added a council, composed of Lord Thomas 
 Howard, Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir F. Vere, Carew and 
 Clifford. The fleet numbered one hundred and fifty 
 vessels, only seventeen of which were of the first class. 
 The land forces and seamen numbered near fifteen 
 thousand men. The Dutch contributed twenty-two 
 ships, besides soldiers and seamen. 
 
 Essex and Raleigh were now to fight side by side. 
 They glowed with emulation. But Raleigh must have 
 felt deeply the superiority which his rival had attained. 
 While he held only a subordinate station Essex had a 
 chief command. His experience, known valor, and 
 mature age, had all been overlooked by Elizabeth, to 
 gratify the ambition of her young favorite. 
 
108 RALEIGHS'S CONDUCT TOWARDS ESSEX. 
 
 Pining with concealed mortification, Raleigh soon 
 came into collision with one of his rival's friends, Sir 
 F. Yere, who, as lord marshal, had been appointed to 
 supply temporarily the place of Essex. He at once 
 claimed precedence of Raleigh, a point of honor upon 
 which he was peculiarly sensitive. Raleigh resented 
 this claim as a bitter affront. The dispute, however, 
 was arranged by Essex, who decided that at sea 
 Raleigh should take precedence, Yere on the land. 
 
 Dissensions seem to have ran high between the 
 friends of the two rivals. They even quarrelled at 
 table in the presence of the chiefs of the expedition. 
 Upon some fancied affront to Raleigh, Arthur Throck- 
 morton, his brother-in-law, used such hot language in 
 his defence, that the lord general commanded him 
 away from his presence. Yet Essex afterward became 
 reconciled to him, and at the return of the expedition, 
 had him knighted. 
 
 As for Raleigh himself, he acted towards Essex with 
 the most prudent respect. He was careful to show no 
 outward signs of enmity. To his own heart alone he 
 told those secret repinings, those fierce enmities which 
 he cherished incessantly. The armament arrived before 
 Cadiz without awakening the alarm of the enemy. Its 
 port was filled with rich merchantmen, unsuspicious 
 of the danger which threatened them. The English 
 captured every vessel that could give intelligence to 
 the enemy. 
 
 Cadiz, seated upon an island that shelters its harbor, 
 
109 
 
 was the first object that attracted the attention of the 
 adventurers. Essex proposed to land at once to assault 
 the town. Lord Effingham, willing to save his vessels 
 as much as possible, consented. The troops were already 
 in the boats, and the landing was about to be attempted, 
 when Raleigh suddenly joined the fleet from chasing 
 some scattered vessels. The wind now blew strongly and 
 the surf was beating upon the coast/ Even already the 
 boats could hardly live in the ruffled water. Raleigh 
 saw that to attempt a landing in such weather would 
 bring destruction upon all who embarked. He hastened 
 to Essex to point out to him the danger, and when 
 he seemed unwilling to retreat from his resolution, 
 urged it so strongly and his opinion was so generally 
 adopted by the other commanders, that Essex yielded. 
 Raleigh then flew in his boat to the lord admiral, who 
 also saw the prudence of his advice. It was deter- 
 mined that the English should enter the harbor and 
 attack the fleet. 
 
 As Raleigh came back from his interview with Effing- 
 ham he called out to Essex, as he passed, " Intramus." 
 Then Essex flung his hat into the sea mad with joy at 
 the prospect of winning conspicuous fame at the head 
 of the invaders. He was disappointed. The queen, 
 doubting his prudence, had sent instructions that he 
 should remain in the van, and that the attack should 
 be led by Sir Walter Raleigh and Lord Thomas 
 Howard. 
 
 The account of this 'exploit has been written by 
 
110 THE ATTACK. 
 
 Raleigh, in a clear and accurate manner. It marks well 
 the vigor and daring of the brave English mariners. 
 
 It was now too late to attack the enemy that night. 
 The soldiers were yet in the boats and must be got aboard 
 their ships. "When this was done the fleet anchored for 
 the night at the mouth of the harbor. Raleigh's advice 
 seems to have been the guide of his superiors. At ten 
 o'clock, he wrote to Effingham a plan of assault which 
 was adopted. He advised that the fleet should not rely 
 upon cannon in attacking the great galleons, but that 
 boats should be provided to board. Efimgham promised 
 to furnish him with boats, but does not appear to have 
 fulfilled his promise. Raleigh was elated by the danger- 
 ous post assigned him. He rejoiced in the opportunity 
 of wresting fame from the grasp of his rival. 
 
 With the first peep of dawn he weighed anchor and 
 led the fleet onward towards the harbor. All night 
 the Spaniards had been busy with preparations for 
 defence. Upon the walls of the town a long battery 
 of cannon bore upon the invaders. Seventeen galleys 
 lay beneath the walls of fort St. Philip which com- 
 manded the harbor, to annoy and embarrass the English. 
 Culverins, cannon, and musketry were prepared to rain 
 down destruction upon them from the land. 
 
 On the water the great Spanish ships the St. Philip, 
 the St. Thomas, the St. Andrew ; with ten great gal- 
 leons of Portugal, many frigates, and a fleet of forty 
 merchantmen, were under the command of the vice- 
 admiral of all Spain. The ships of war were drawn up 
 
KALEIGII IN THE WABSPITE. Ill 
 
 side by side in a narrow strait leading to Puerto Reale 
 under the guns of Port St. Philip. On their right, were 
 placed the frigates. Behind were the argosies, and the 
 Lisbon galleons. The seventeen galleys were ordered 
 to interlace the ships, so as to form an impenetrable 
 barrier across the strait. The galleys, however, were 
 not yet in their places. They awaited under the walls 
 of the port with their prows turned towards the invaders, 
 hoping to take advantage of the wrecks which it was 
 believed the fire from the forts and the long line of can- 
 non would occasion. 
 
 Raleigh, in the "Warspite, moved steadily onward at 
 the head of his fleet, followed by six large ships of war, 
 twelve London vessels, and the boats. As his ship 
 entered the mouth of the harbor, it was assailed by a 
 general fire from the fort St. Philip, the walls of the 
 town, and the galleys. He answered only with scorn. 
 To the Spanish guns he replied by a blast of- English 
 trumpet. To each gun a loud mocking blast. In this 
 scorn there was something terrible. Calm and irresis- 
 tible he led the way onward to the devoted ships. 
 
 His followers were not so patient. They fell upon 
 the galleys with a fire that drove them from beneath the 
 fort to the shelter of the galleons. As they passed 
 Raleigh gave them a running fire, in the way, he says, 
 of a "benediction." 
 
 Then as he drew near the great Spanish ships, and 
 placed himself close at their side, he remembered the 
 death of Greenville. The St. Philip, and the St. 
 
112 AN INDECISIVE CONTEST. 
 
 Andrews, npon which lie flung himself with ardor, had 
 "been present and aided in the capture of his friend. 
 They were now to meet with a doom that would have 
 satisfied the fierce spirit of Greenville. 
 
 Raleigh was supported on the one side by Lord 
 Thomas Howard, on the other, by the Mary Rose, and 
 the Dreadnought. Essex, in the van, saw with im- 
 patience the danger and the glory of his rival. Forget- 
 ting the commands of the queen, he pressed forward 
 in the Repulse, until he was nearly on a line with the 
 Warspite. As yet, however, Raleigh was at the head 
 of all, the object of envy to all his companions. A 
 fierce emulation to be first had seized the rival leaders, 
 and no man was satisfied with his position unless he was 
 in the front of danger. 
 
 After three hours of cannonading, Raleigh grew 
 weary of the indecisive contest. "While the balls flew 
 as thick as in a skirmish of infantry, he leaped into a 
 skiff and passed over to the Repulse to complain to 
 Essex of the absence of the boats with which Eflingham 
 was to have provided him. He begged the earl to 
 return and hasten their coming. He assured him that 
 he would fight no longer in this unsatisfactory manner ; 
 that he must board the enemy or be sunk by their fire. 
 Essex told him that if he wished to board he would 
 second him. 
 
 While they were talking, Yere, eager to be first, 
 urged his ship forward beyond that of Raleigh. How- 
 ard not to be out-clone, pressed onward before Vere ; 
 
THE DISMAY OF THE SPANIARDS. 113 
 
 so that Raleigh was now the third from the front. This 
 was not to be borne. He hastened back to the War- 
 spite, let slip her anchor, and urging her onward before 
 all his competitors, laid her athwart the channel so that 
 none could pass again. Essex gained the next position. 
 Howard had fastened a line to the Warspite to draw 
 his ship to her side, but her sailors cut it off and he fell 
 behind. So eager were these fearless mariners to meet 
 that dreadful fire, which was poured down upon them 
 by the enemy. 
 
 ]STo fly-boats appearing, Raleigh resolved " to shake 
 hands with the St. Philip." He threw a line aboard 
 of her preparing to board. The courage of the Span- 
 iards, which had sustained them in a distant cannonade, 
 failed as they saw the terrible foe about to draw near. 
 They slipped their anchor and ran their ship aground. 
 Then an infatuation of terror seems to have seized them. 
 They fled from their ships as the English attempted to 
 enter them, falling from the port-holes into the water, 
 says Raleigh, " like coals from a sack." 
 
 The St. Philip and the St. Thomas now took fire. The 
 spectacle was lamentable and terrible, even to the in- 
 vaders. Of the Spaniards, many drowned themselves in 
 despair; others, scorched by the flames, were struggling 
 in the water. Some hung by rope ends, under water to 
 the lips. Others badly wounded were seen struggling 
 in the ooze. So dreadful was the scene, so fierce the 
 blaze of the vast ships, and so terrible the firing of the 
 great ordnance, as the flames reached and discharged 
 
114: DESTRUCTION OF THEIR FLEET. 
 
 them, " that, if any man desires to see hell itself," adds 
 Raleigh, " it was there most finely figured." 
 
 Eight English ships had thus defeated, taken, and 
 destroyed more than fifty Spanish, defended by power- 
 ful batteries, and filled with soldiers. 
 
 The enemy's fleet being destroyed, Essex landing his 
 troops, drove back a detachment from the garrison who 
 had sallied from the town, and having pursued them to 
 the walls, carried it by assault. Raleigh who had been 
 badly wounded in the leg by a splinter during his attack 
 upon the fleet, yet insisted upon the witnessing the sack 
 of Cadiz. Borne upon the shoulders of his men, he 
 passed through the tumultuous crowd of plunderers, 
 who showed, he says, " but little respect of persons," to 
 return at night to his ship fainting with wounds and 
 weariness, without having secured a single valuable 
 prize. The fleet was now almost a solitude, its crews 
 having hastened away to share in the plunder of the 
 town. At dawn Raleigh sent to Eflingham for orders 
 to pursue and take possession of the Indian fleet, which 
 lay in the Puerto Reale, the value of which was many 
 millions ; but such was the confusion that he could get 
 no answer. 
 
 The vast prize was lost to the conquerors. At noon 
 of that fatal day, the Spaniards had proposed to Effing- 
 ham to ransom their fleet for two million of reals. But 
 the next morning the Duke of Medina Sidonia, ordered 
 it to be set on fire. And galleons, carracks, and argo- 
 sies, with all their priceless cargoes, were ravished from 
 
KALEIGH'S DISAPPOINTMENT. 115 
 
 the English by the flames. Two only, the St. Andrew 
 and the St. Matthew, "the two apostles," as Raleigh 
 irreverently describes them, were brought to Eng- 
 land. 
 
 Essex, when the attack was over, treated his prisoners 
 with humanity and generosity. The town proved rich 
 in money, plate, and merchandise. The spoil of the 
 English was large. Many prisoners ransomed themselves 
 for ten or twenty thousand ducats. 
 
 " For myself," continues Raleigh, " I have gotten a 
 lame leg and a deformed. I have not wanted good 
 words, but I have possessed nothing but poverty and 
 pain. If God had spared me that blow I had possessed 
 myself of some house." In the buccaneer spirit of the 
 day he had longed to be at the sack, but his wound had 
 prevented him from profiting by it. He sighed to grow 
 rich like Olive or Hastings. 
 
 Success overturned the little natural prudence of Es- 
 sex. He wished to be left at Cadiz with a garrison of 
 four hundred men to hold it against the whole power of 
 Philip. When this was rejected he pressed the admiral 
 to crown their success by intercepting the galleons at 
 the Azores, and by assaulting other ports of Spain. He 
 returned to England full of complaints of his fellow 
 commanders who had not yielded to his advice. He 
 even claimed the whole glory of the naval engagement, 
 and the taking of Cadiz to himself. He published his 
 censures upon his associates, particularly mentioning Sir 
 Walter Raleigh as one who had been unfavorable to his 
 
116 CECIL. 
 
 plans. Another mortification awaited Essex upon his 
 return. He found Cecil appointed secretary. 
 
 Elizabeth was delighted at the success of the expedi- 
 tion. She had wounded her enemy in a vital part. She 
 praised and rewarded all the commanders. 
 
 Cecil, who professed friendship for Raleigh, was now 
 reconciled by him to Essex. "With his deep policy he 
 was unwilling to have an open foe in either. He felt 
 that he could not remain with safety closely connected 
 with Ealeigh while Essex was his enemy. Magnani- 
 mous and open-hearted, the earl was forgiving. He 
 had been easily won to forget his displeasure against 
 Ealeigh ; he was easily reconciled towards Cecil. The 
 three rivals met together as friends. Cecil went in the 
 same coach with the earl to his house, where Ealeigh 
 came soon after, and they dined together. After dinner 
 they spent three hours in conversation. Essex was .the 
 dupe of his astute rivals. Unacquainted with deception 
 himself, he could not suspect that they were plotting 
 against him while they courted him. 
 
 In June, 1597, Ealeigh was completely reconciled to 
 the queen. Cecil, in the absence of Essex, who con- 
 nived rather than consented to it, was to bring Ealeigh 
 to an interview with Elizabeth. She received him with 
 something of the old favor. He once more was allowed 
 to resume his captaincy of the Guards from which he 
 had been long suspended. In the evening he rode forth 
 with the queen and had a private conference with her. 
 To the world he seemed at length about to resume his 
 
ANOTHER EXPEDITION AGAINST SPAIN. 117 
 
 old ascendency. The happy scheme of Cecil for pro- 
 ducing a reconciliation with Essex ensured his success. 
 The earl and Raleigh were now often together. They 
 were much at Cecil's house in private. But this inti- 
 macy could not long endure. 
 
 The queen heard that Philip was preparing an expe- 
 dition against Ireland in Groine and Ferrol. She had 
 now learned that the wisest plan for destroying Spanish 
 armadas was the one suggested by Raleigh, of attacking 
 them in their own harbors. She resolved therefore to 
 anticipate Philip. 
 
 Another stately fleet sailed forth from England, com- 
 missioned to ravage the coasts of Spain and to intercept 
 the plate fleet. Essex was made command er-in-chief 
 of both sea and land forces, and led one squadron ; How- 
 ard as vice-admiral, another ; Raleigh commanded a 
 third. Lord Mountjoy. Yere, the earls of Rutland and 
 Southampton, Carew, Blount, and many more lords and 
 gentlemen attended the expedition. They led one hun- 
 dred and twenty ships with seven thousand soldiers. 
 
 At "Wey mouth, Essex called before him Yere and 
 Raleigh, to have them reconciled. They readily 
 professed their willingness. The fleet sailed, but was 
 driven back by a storm. During the delay, Raleigh 
 and Essex made a journey together to London to 
 attend court. It was now determined to dismiss the land 
 forces and to confine the object of the expedition to 
 the capture of the treasure fleet. 
 
 Essex was surrounded by pretended friends who 
 
118 THE ATTACK ON FAYAL. 
 
 seized every occasion to produce dissensions between 
 him and Raleigh. The latter had been detained behind 
 the rest of the fleet by the breaking of his main-yard. 
 He then came to Lisbon, where finding some ships and 
 tenders he conveyed them to the Azores. This was 
 construed by the followers of Essex into a serious offence, 
 as if he wished to act independently of his commander. 
 Raleigh, however, upon rejoining the fleet, soon con- 
 vinced the earl of their malice. Essex, who had been 
 enraged at his supposed desertion, was easily pacified. 
 He told Raleigh he never had believed he had deserted 
 him, and that he " was sorry for a letter he had written 
 to England against his conduct." It was observed by 
 Gorges that Essex in great matters always consulted Ra- 
 leigh in preference to many others who thought them- 
 selves first in his regard. 
 
 It was determined in a council of war that Essex and 
 Raleigh should together attack Fayal, while to the other 
 commanders were assigned other islands. Unhappily, 
 in reaching their destination, Raleigh was separated 
 from his general. He arrived at Fayal, but saw no 
 traces of Essex. 
 
 He was now in doubt what plan to pursue. If he 
 should attack the island before Essex had arrived, he 
 must expect to excite the jealous anger of his rival. 
 While if he delayed the attack, the Spaniards, alarmed 
 by his approach, would so improve its defences as to 
 make its capture difficult if not impossible. Two days 
 he hesitated, doubtful whether to serve his queen at the 
 
ESSEX WISHES TO PUNISH EALEIGH WITH DEATH. 119 
 
 risk of displeasing her favorite. Meanwhile he saw the 
 Spaniards busily increasing their fortifications. A coun- 
 cil of his officers was called. The friends of Essex 
 urged a delay. The chief captains were for attacking 
 at once. Raleigh, however, yielded to the former, and 
 agreed to wait a day longer. He then attacked the 
 island with great bravery and quickly subdued it. 
 
 When Essex soon after arrived at Fayal, he was trans- 
 ported with rage to find the glory of the attempt 
 wholly ravished from him by his rival. His friends in- 
 flamed his displeasure. They urged him to try Raleigh 
 by court-martial, and put him to death. They even 
 insinuated that he now had a good opportunity for 
 removing for ever from his path a formidable foe. In 
 his impetuosity he would have yielded to their violent 
 counsels. He cashiered three captains who had shared 
 in the attempt, and would have inflicted some hasty 
 punishment upon Raleigh, had not Lord Thomas How- 
 ard interfered and reconciled them. He persuaded Ra- 
 leigh to make submissions, and Essex to receive his 
 apologies. 
 
 The earl gained no reputation by this expedition. By 
 his want of seamanship he lost the galleons for which 
 he lay in wait and of which he came in sight, and he 
 returned to England mortified and enraged. He refused 
 even to appear at court. His displeasure was increased 
 by the conduct of Elizabeth. Cecil had been made 
 chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, and Lord Efling- 
 hain Earl of Nottingham; for his success at Cadiz. This 
 
120 THEY AKE RECONCILED. 
 
 appointment gave Nottingham a higher position than 
 Essex, for an exploit the merit of which Essex claimed 
 for himself. He was so enraged that he offered to main- 
 tain by the sword his plea against Nottingham or any 
 of his kindred. 
 
 Elizabeth employed Kaleigh to reconcile the two 
 earls. To soothe the wounded vanity of Essex she made 
 him Lord Marshal of England, an office that had long 
 been in abeyance, but which gave him. the precedence 
 over Nottingham. 
 
 The world was surprised at the close intimacy which 
 now grew up between Essex and his rivals, Cecil and 
 Kaleigh. None, it was said, but they could move him 
 as they pleased. France was preparing to make peace 
 with Spain. Cecil was one of the ambassadors sent by 
 Elizabeth to remonstrate against this design. Before he 
 departed his friends entertained him with a succession 
 of fetes. Raleigh, Lord Compton, Cobham and South- 
 well gave in turn banquets, plays and music. Howard 
 and Kaleigh attended him to Dover. 
 
 The rumor of a new Spanish invasion alarmed Eliza- 
 beth. It proved only a passing fleet bearing aid to their 
 armies in the Netherlands. Yet Essex was dispatched 
 to the defence of the Kentish coast. Raleigh to Corn- 
 wall. Kaleigh was now talked of for Lord Deputy of 
 Ireland, but is said to have declined the unpromising 
 post. In 1598 died Lord Buiieigh, the father of Cecil, 
 the enemy of Essex, leaving apparently an undisputed 
 supremacy to the earl. 
 
IMPENDENCE OF ESSEX. 121 
 
 But Essex had already somewhat shaken his authority 
 by the imprudence of his behavior. "With his rapid 
 growth in influence he had lost that veneration for 
 Elizabeth which marked his early bearing towards her, 
 and which she demanded from all her courtiers. Time 
 had increased his natural impetuosity and weakened 
 his prudence. Prosperity had not improved his dispo- 
 sition. He had grown jealous, sensitive, hasty. One 
 day in a dispute with the queen, with regard to some 
 appointment, he grew so angry as to turn his back upon 
 her in a contemptuous manner.- The queen, equally 
 hasty, repaid his contempt by a box upon his ear. The 
 earl, enraged beyond restraint, placed his hand upon 
 his sword, swearing that he would not bear such usage 
 even from Henry VIII. himself. He withdrew from 
 the court, and, far from concealing this affront, published 
 it abroad by a letter which he wrote in vindication of 
 his conduct, and of which copies were handed about 
 among his friends. Elizabeth afterwards restored him 
 to favor, but it was plain that so ardent a temperament 
 as that of Essex must lead him ere long to equally 
 dangerous outbreaks. 
 
 In 1599, Essex, in a moment of passion, ambition and 
 self-confidence, obtained from the queen the appoint- 
 ment of Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. The Irish had long 
 been a source of expense and uneasiness to Elizabeth. 
 She relied upon the earl's known valor and genius to 
 subdue them at a blow. She supplied him with near 
 twenty thousand men, and expected that his complete 
 
 6 
 
122 HIS MISCONDUCT IN IRELAND. 
 
 success would relieve her from all future difficulties on 
 that island. 
 
 It is said that his enemies advocated this appointment, 
 and united in raising the expectations of the queen, 
 which they hoped would be disappointed. Raleigh, 
 Cecil, Nottingham and Gobham rejoiced to see their 
 rival removed from court, and exposed to the dangers 
 of a campaign in a country where few laurels were 
 likely to be obtained, even should he escape any great 
 disaster. 
 
 The fate of the expedition equalled their highest hopes. 
 Essex, easily deceived and incapable of forming a well- 
 concerted plan, was baffled by the Irish, failed in all his 
 enterprises, saw his great army melt away by sickness, 
 desertion and death, tind was finally driven to negotiate 
 a disgraceful peace. 
 
 Elizabeth heard of the destruction of her army, the 
 greatest she had ever equipped, with undisguised anger. 
 Essex increased this feeling by writing imprudent letters 
 to herself and the council, complaining of the calumnies 
 which had been received against him. The queen sent 
 him orders to remain in Ireland, but Essex, fearing the 
 effect of the influence of his enemies should he remain 
 any longer absent, resolved to fly to the queen. He 
 passed over the Channel, hastened to London, and entered 
 the palace. Covered with the marks of his hasty travel 
 he came to the bed-chamber of the queen, who had just 
 risen, cast himself upon his knees, kissed her hand and 
 had some conversation with her. So that when he left 
 
HE EETUENS. 123 
 
 her presence lie was so reassured of her favor as to thank 
 God that though he had suffered many troubles and 
 storms abroad he found a sweet calm at home. 
 
 He was surprised to find in the afternoon that he was 
 ordered into close custody, shut out from all intercourse 
 with his friends, and ordered to be examined by the 
 council. Mortification and regret made him fall sick, 
 and his life was even in danger. The queen, who 
 retained for him all her affection, was alarmed. She 
 showed her concern by her tears. She sent him some 
 broth, with a message that if such a step were proper 
 she would visit him in person. 
 
 About the same time Raleigh, it is said, pretended 
 sickness and was cured by a similar message from his 
 mistress. 
 
 The enemies of Essex used every artifice to excite the 
 displeasure of the queen. His conduct in Ireland had 
 been exceedingly imprudent. They insinuated that his 
 sickness had been feigned. They awoke in her mind 
 suspicions of which she had no thought herself. She 
 resolved to have him tried by the Star Chamber, but 
 was content with having him examined by the Privy 
 Council. Here he was assailed by Coke, who opened 
 the case against him with his usual unsparing violence. 
 Among the counsel employed against the fallen earl 
 appeared Bacon, the man whom he had so devotedly 
 served, but who, with the noblest impulses, often 
 descended to the basest artifices of the courtier. To 
 please the queen he sacrificed his friend. Essex was, by 
 
KALEIGH DISSATISFIED. 
 
 sentence of the counsel, suspended from his various high 
 offices and confined a prisoner in his own house. 
 
 Elizabeth candidly told the earl that in all these pun- 
 ishments she never meant to withdraw from him her 
 favor, but only to correct that impetuous temper which 
 had proved so injurious to her interest as well as to his 
 own. In this she was sincere. She loved Essex more 
 than any other man. To Raleigh she was never liberal of 
 her favors. The disgrace of his rival did not add to his 
 good fortune. He had long hoped to be made a privy 
 counsellor, but was constantly disappointed ; some secret 
 obstacle seemed to check his advance. The wisest com- 
 mander, the bravest officer of his time, he had as yet 
 held only inferior appointments. He sought to be made 
 one of the commissioners of the treaty at Boulogne and 
 was refused. Ill pleased to find nothing done for him, 
 he retired to his estate of Sherbroke, being on his journey 
 entertained by the Earl of Northumberland, at the Lion 
 House. In May he returned to court to solicit the vice- 
 chamberlainship. Soon after he went over into Flanders 
 upon some secret mission. On his return he was made 
 Governor of Jersey, with the grant of the Manor of St. 
 Germains, on that island. 
 
 In the meantime the impetuous temper of Essex had 
 produced his ruin. The severity of the queen made him 
 moody and desperate. He believed that no man was 
 ever so wronged as himself. He thought the calumnies 
 of his enemies had led Elizabeth to treat him with gross 
 injustice. Dark plans of revenge against them and of a 
 
ESSEX PLOTS AGAINST THE QTJEEN. 125 
 
 conspiracy against her power filled his mind. His popu- 
 larity was remarkable. Even in his disgrace the people 
 still looked upon him with affectionate compassion. 
 They reviled his enemies as knaves and cowards. They 
 published libels against them. And Essex believed that 
 he could rely upon their aid in any attempt to drive 
 Cecil and Raleigh from power. 
 
 He joined himself to the sect of Puritans. He had 
 daily prayers and exercises at Essex House. He used 
 every measure to provoke the queen. He often ridiculed 
 her appearance, and said that she was now grown an old 
 woman, that she was as crooked in her mind as in her body. 
 His house was filled with military adventurers whose aid 
 he intended to use in his future schemes. He entered 
 into correspondence with King James, and proposed 
 to him a scheme for forcing Elizabeth to acknowledge 
 the king of the Scots her heir. At Drury House met a 
 secret council of his friends who gravely debated a 
 design which he proposed to them for seizing the Tower 
 and forcing the palace gates : for obliging the queen to 
 dismiss his enemies from his counsels: to assemble a 
 parliament and settle a new plan of government. 
 Among the malcontents were the Earl of Southampton, 
 Sir Fernando Gorges, Sir Christopher Blount and many 
 other men of rank and fame. So strong was the influ- 
 ence of Essex over the hearts of his friends. 
 
 His enemies were now keenly watching his proceed- 
 ings. They had already aroused the suspicion of the 
 queen. She sent a son of the treasurer Sackville, to 
 
126 DISCOVERY OF THE PLOT. 
 
 Essex House to discover his designs. Soon after Essex 
 received a summons to attend at the council, and at the 
 same time came a note from a friend warning him to 
 provide for his safety. The next day he summoned his 
 friends to Essex House. There came the earls of 
 Southampton, Rutland, Lords Monteagle and Sandys 
 with three hundred gentlemen of rank and fortune. 
 
 Meanwhile Raleigh, who was watching the motions 
 of his rival, sent for Sir Fernando Gorges to meet him 
 on the Thames. Gorges consulted Essex whether he 
 should go. Raleigh was looked upon with deadly 
 hatred at Essex House. It was chiefly against him 
 that those preparations were made. Blount urged 
 Gorges to seize or murder Raleigh at the meeting. 
 Gorges met Raleigh, who told him that a warrant had 
 been issued for his arrest and urged him to fly. Gorges 
 thanked him, but answered that he was engaged in 
 another matter, and that there were two thousand 
 gentlemen who were resolved to live or die freemen. 
 It is probable that this was not all that was said and 
 that Gorges gave Raleigh the full particulars of the 
 plot. They parted, the one to Essex House, the other 
 to the queen. 
 
 Then Essex burst forth from Essex House upon his 
 mad project of raising the city, crying out that Raleigh 
 and Cobham had plotted against his life. He was 
 seized, imprisoned, and tried for treason. At the trial 
 again appeared Bacon, not ashamed to aid in the 
 destruction of his generous friend. The earl was con- 
 
EALEIGH RECOMMENDS THE EXECUTION OF ESSEX. 127 
 
 demned to death and his execution awaited only the 
 signature of the queen. 
 
 Cecil appeared to have relented, and would have 
 spared him, but Raleigh urged him to be firm. "If 
 you spare him," he wrote, " I read your destiny." ~No 
 mercy could he show to that noble heart which had so 
 often forgiven, to that friend with whom he had spent 
 so many hours in private conversation, who had 
 shared with him the dangers of the battle-field and the 
 pleasures of society. 
 
 Yet Raleigh had the excuse that the struggle between 
 himself and Essex had become one of life and death. 
 He knew the real power of the earl over Elizabeth. If 
 Essex were spared he would rise again to an over- 
 whelming influence. If he triumphed Raleigh, and 
 Cecil must die upon the scaffold. The wrongs which 
 they had inflicted were too deep to be otherwise 
 avenged. He wrote to Cecil : " His malice is fixed ; if 
 you relent you will repent too late." The warrant for 
 the execution, which the tenderness of the queen had 
 delayed, was at length signed by her with what emo- 
 tions ? It proved her own death warrant as well as his. 
 The earl died in a penitent mood ; all his violent 
 passions stilled at the approach of the Great Power. 
 It is said that he even desired to see Raleigh before he 
 died to assure him of his pardon. 
 
 Raleigh had been chiefly instrumental in discovering 
 the conspiracy. He had been one of those who 
 besieged Essex House. He had attended in his station 
 
128 THE LAST DAYS OF THE QUEEN. 
 
 of captain of the Guards at the trial. He now came to 
 the Tower to behold a death. There he saw the fair 
 head drop upon the scaffold with tears of remorse. 
 Was it so ? Did the sight of the inevitable recall him 
 to humanity and sympathy ? The people did not so 
 think. They followed with curses him who had feasted 
 his revenge with malicious joy upon the lifeless form of 
 the general favorite. 
 
 The last days of the great queen drew near. They 
 were full of repinings, lamentings, and inconsolable 
 grief. Clouded and stormy went down her splendid 
 day. She had killed the truest-hearted of her subjects. 
 Around were none but cold intriguers and heartless plot- 
 ters. Childless, husbandless, the destroyer of a sister 
 queen, yet with a heart pining for the joys of filial and 
 fraternal affection, Elizabeth's pride, ambition, and 
 vanity, could now no longer supply a child's, a mother's, 
 a sister's place. The phantoms fled. She fell into 
 a misanthropic melancholy. She starved herself to 
 death. 
 
 About this time Raleigh sold his estate in Ireland. 
 Having been engaged in a difficulty with Sir Amias 
 Preston, which ended in a challenge, he settled his 
 Sherbroke estate upon his son Walter in anticipation of 
 the event. They were, however reconciled. 
 
 With the death of his mistress his fortunes fell. 
 James, her successor, had been already taught to look 
 upon him with dislike. Raleigh had been one of those 
 who advocated the policy of laying certain restrictions 
 
HEK SUCCESSOR TJNFKIENDLY TO KALEIGII. 129 
 
 upon the new king, a measure that had excited his 
 highest resentment. Cecil, too, who had professed 
 friendship for Sir Walter so long as he was to be feared, 
 had for some years been engaged in a correspondence 
 with James, which he had successfully concealed from 
 the queen. In this correspondence he took care to 
 represent all those in unfavorable colors who were 
 likely to become dangerous rivals to himself. He did 
 not spare his friend Raleigh. He spoke of him in the 
 way most likely to injure him with the king. 
 
 The martial fame, the restless adventurous spirit of 
 Raleigh, were equally feared and disliked by the timid 
 James. He hated and dreaded a soldier. He shrank 
 from a bold commanding nature with envious alarm. 
 When he heard that Raleigh was about to marry his 
 son Walter to his ward, a descendant of the Planta- 
 genets, with a fortune of three thousand pounds a year 
 a match, however, which never took place he sus- 
 pected him of forming a design upon his crown. 
 When Raleigh came to him with a project for invading 
 Spain with two thousand men at his own expense, he 
 was shocked at the warlike proposition. 
 
 Yet the king at first temporized. He thanked 
 Raleigh for some presents which he had received 
 from him in Scotland. Though he removed him from 
 the post of captain of his Guards, and took away 
 his patent of sweet wines, in the place of the latter 
 he allowed him a pension of three hundred pounds, 
 and remitted some debts which he owed to the crown. 
 
 6* 
 
130 EALEIGH ACCUSED OF PLOTTING AGAINST THE KING. 
 
 Yet James had hardly been three months upon the 
 throne before the nation was astonished by the trial and 
 condemnation of Raleigh for a conspiracy. Cecil, who 
 was probably the inventor of the plot, w r as active in 
 convicting his friend. In his letter to Parry he relates 
 its details as if he were too familiar with them. "With 
 Raleigh were implicated Lords Cobham and Grey. 
 Cobhani, weak, dissolute, and desperate, who had 
 always been greatly influenced by Raleigh, was now 
 induced to become a witness against him. 
 
 The plague raging in London, the trial was appointed 
 to take place at "Winchester. Raleigh was taken in 
 custody in his own coach to that city and imprisoned in 
 the Castle with the other conspirators. 
 
 He was brought before the Earl of Suffolk and the 
 two chief justices, Popham and Anderson, to be tried 
 for his life. He was charged with having conspired 
 with Cobham to destroy the king, and to advance Lady 
 Arabella Stuart to the throne. The indictment stated 
 that Cobham was to go over to the continent to procure 
 the assistance of the King of Spain, the archduke, and 
 the King of Savoy, to carry out the plot ; that he was 
 to bear letters from Lady Arabella Stuart, promising to 
 tolerate popery and to be governed by those powers in 
 her choice of a husband ; that Aremburg, the arch- 
 duke's ambassador, had promised six millions of crowns 
 in aid of the plan ; and that Raleigh had published a 
 book against the king's title. 
 
 Coke carried on the case with his usual offensive 
 
HIS DEFENCE. 131 
 
 coarseness. Not many months had passed since he had 
 thus treated Essex. He now seemed to exult in the 
 humiliation of Raleigh. Gobham was the chief evi- 
 dence. He pretended that he had been seduced by 
 Raleigh's arts to engage in the plot ; that he was to 
 have gone to Spain to solicit for the six million crowns, 
 and was to return by the way of Jersey where he would 
 meet and consult with Raleigh. Another witness testi- 
 fied that Cobham and Raleigh, after supping together, 
 had gone to Aremberg, the archduke's ambassador. 
 Cobham deposed that he had a book from Raleigh 
 written against the king's title. He added that Raleigh 
 was to receive a bribe of fifteen hundred pounds a year 
 from Spain for giving information ; and produced a 
 letter written to him by Raleigh after their arrest, 
 urging him to retract his evidence. With some slight 
 hearsay testimony, this was all the proof against 
 Raleigh. 
 
 He defended himself with great courage and skill. 
 His reply was clear and perfect. He denied all know- 
 ledge of the plot with Cobham and Aremburg. He 
 declared he had never even heard the name of the 
 Lady Arabella Stuart. He said that he who had writ- 
 ten a book against peace with Spain, would not be likely 
 to advocate a traitorous peace with that power. He 
 urged that in cases of treason two witnesses were 
 required by law, but that against him appeared but one, 
 and that one by his own confession a traitor. He said 
 the book spoken of came from the study of the late 
 
132 ITS COMPLETENESS. 
 
 lord treasurer, he had never read nor commended it to 
 any man. He urged that it was not likely that he, who 
 had spent forty thousand pounds against the Spaniards, 
 would now accept a pension from them. And lastly, 
 as a conclusive proof, he produced a letter from Lord 
 Cobham, written in view of approaching death, as fol- 
 lows : " Seeing myself so near my end, for the discharge 
 of my conscience and freeing myself from your blood, 
 which else will cry for vengeance against me, I protest 
 upon my salvation, that I have never practised with 
 Spain by your procurement. God so comfort me in this 
 my affliction, as you are a true subject for anything I 
 know I know nothing against you." 
 
 Then Lord High Admiral Nottingham rose up and by 
 his side the Lady Arabella Stuart. The lady protested 
 that she never dealt in these things ; that she had indeed 
 received a letter from Cobham, which she laughed over 
 and then sent it to the king. 
 
 "No defence could be more complete. The chief wit- 
 ness for the prosecution had confessed himself perjured, 
 and had called God to witness that the accused was 
 guiltless. All circumstances 'combined to render the 
 guilt of Raleigh impossible. His whole life had been 
 actuated by a single impulse, a hatred of Spain and 
 popery. He had been the bravest and most untiring 
 of that band of heroes, who had crushed for ever Spanish 
 supremacy. His patriotic ardor had never wearied. 
 For England he had fought, labored, and devised great 
 plans of colonization which ages only could develop. 
 
COKE'S COARSE ABUSE OF THE PRISONER. 133 
 
 Everywhere lie was esteemed the bravest commander, 
 the wisest counsellor of England. And now, as he stood 
 in the high court of his country, to be tried for his life 
 upon an improbable accusation, he might reasonably 
 hope for justice if not for favor. 
 
 Coke, the great master of English law, was attorney- 
 general. His character was singular. He was bitter, 
 mean, malignant. He rejoiced in crushing with sharp 
 invective fallen greatness. No pettifogger was ever 
 more addicted to coarse language, or more unscrupulous 
 in miscoloring facts. He assailed the accused with the 
 bitterness of a Jeffries. He could utter falsehoods at 
 the bar, which he would have blushed to countenance 
 beyond it. He made up his weak cases by a storm of 
 invective and reproach. Nor can anything exceed the 
 baseness of his conduct towards both Raleigh and 
 Essex. 
 
 Yet Coke was an eminent lawyer, cool, ready, and 
 resolute. From his overflowing store of well-arranged 
 knowledge, has flowed a commentary abounding in just 
 deductions and able reasoning, a work which has been 
 the delight of all succeeding lawyers, upon which Black- 
 stone and Mansfield, Kent and Story, have bestowed 
 their highest praise. In politics Coke was a liberal at a 
 time when liberality was likely to be construed as trea- 
 son. The bitter, sardonic lawyer, defended obstinately 
 the privileges of the commons against royal encroach- 
 ment. 
 
 Coke, upon the conclusion of Raleigh's defence, rose 
 
134 EALEIGH AND COKE. 
 
 to reply. He had nothing but reproach and ill-language 
 to conceal the weakness of his case. He told Raleigh 
 he was the most notorious traitor alive : that he would 
 not only have taken off the king, but destroyed religion : 
 that he was a monster, a viper : that he had an Eng- 
 lish face but a Spanish heart : that he had never known 
 a clearer case of treason : that he was the most vile 
 and execrable traitor that ever lived. 
 
 Raleigh could not well bear this treatment. "You 
 speak," said he to Coke, " indiscreetly as well as bar- 
 barously." 
 
 Coke. I want words to express thy viperous treason. 
 
 Raleigh. I think you want words indeed ; for you 
 have spoken one thing half a dozen times. 
 
 Coke. Thou art an odious fellow. Thy name is hate- 
 ful to all England for thy pride. 
 
 Raleigh. It will go near to prove a measure cast 
 between you and me, Mr. Attorney. 
 
 Then Coke produced a letter which he said had been 
 conveyed by Raleigh to Cobham to induce him to 
 retract his confession. 
 
 Raleigh allowed that he had sent a poor fellow with 
 a letter to throw into Cobham's window, containing 
 these few words. " You know you have undone me ; 
 now write three lines to justify me." 
 
 The chief justice then asked what he had to say with 
 regard to the bribe of fifteen hundred pounds from 
 Spain. And Raleigh with calm disdain answered, 
 that " Cobham was a base, dishonest, poor soul," The 
 
THE VERDICT. 135 
 
 chief justice retorted, " I perceive that you are not so 
 clear a man as you have pretended." 
 
 It was plain that justice was not to be done in that 
 court. The chief justice charged strongly against the 
 prisoner. The jury in fifteen minutes returned with a 
 verdict of Guilty of High Treason. 
 
 This verdict surprised all men. Even the jury, it is 
 reported, touched with a sense of the value of that life 
 which they had sacrificed, demanded pardon for Sir 
 Walter on their knees. Even Coke, who had retired 
 from court into the garden for fresh air, on being told 
 that the jury had convicted the prisoner of treason, 
 exclaimed, " Thou art mistaken. I myself only accused 
 him of misprision of treason." 
 
 Coke's coarse abuse of Raleigh is said to have dis- 
 gusted his contemporaries. Shakspeare is thought to 
 have satirized him in the character of Sir Toby Belch, 
 in the Twelfth Night. Coke had exclaimed in his fury 
 against the prisoner, " Thou viper, for I thou thee, thou 
 traitor." Act III., scene 4, Sir Toby speaks, " Taunt 
 him with the license of ink ; if thou thou'st him some 
 thrice it shall not be amiss." 
 
 Sir Walter walked erect and unconquerable from the 
 mock trial to his prison. He remained at Winchester 
 nearly a month in hourly expectation of death. During 
 this suspense he wrote as follows to his wife : 
 
 " You shall now receive, my dear wife, my last words in these my last 
 lines. My love I send you that you may remember it when I am no 
 more. I would not by my will present you with sorrow, dear Bess. 
 
136 HIS LETTER TO HIS WIFE. 
 
 Seeing that it is not the will of God that ever I shall see you more in 
 this life, bear it patiently and \vith a heart like thyself. 
 
 " First, I send you all the thanks my heart can conceive or my words 
 express, for your many travails and cares taken for me, which though 
 they have not the effect as you wished, yet my debt to you is not the 
 less. But pay it never I shall in this world. 
 
 " Secondly, I beseech you for the love you bear me living, do not hide 
 yourself many days after my death. But, by your travails, seek to help 
 your miserable fortunes and the right of your poor child. Thy mourn- 
 ing cannot avail me. I am but dust." 
 
 He then relates how he had settled his property, and 
 continues : 
 
 " When I am gone, no doubt you shall be sought for by many, for the 
 world thinks that I was very rich. But take heed of the pretences of 
 men and their affections. For they last not but in honest and worthy 
 men ; and no greater misery can befall you in this life than to become a 
 prey and afterwards be despised. Get those letters if it be possible, 
 which I writ to the lords where I sued for my life. God is my witness, 
 it was for you and yours that I desired life. But it is true that I d'sdain 
 myself for begging it, for know it, dear wife, that your son is the son of 
 a true man, and one who in his own respect despiseth death and all his 
 misshapen ugly forms. 
 
 " The everlasting, powerful, infinite, and omnipresent God, who is good- 
 ness itself, the true life and light, keep thee and thine, have mercy upon 
 me, and teach me to forgive my persecutors and accusers, and send us to 
 meet in his glorious kingdom. 
 
 " My dear wife, farewell. Bless my poor boy, pray for me, and let 
 my good God hold you both in his arms. Written with the dying hand 
 of sometime thy husband, but now, alas ! overthrown. Yours that was, 
 but now not my own. 
 
 " WALTER RALEIGH." 
 
 A noble farewell to life and its loved ones ! The 
 voice of a true heart sounding cheerfully amid its mourn- 
 
A FAREWELL TO LIFE. 137 
 
 fnl circumstances. Not that of an Atheist, or a sensual- 
 ist, but of a bold nature, striving by its own strength 
 and God's aid, to stand erect in the tempest and keep 
 others from sinking. Dying himself, he would keep her 
 alive. He would not have her mourn him long. He 
 could die with honor, with no vain prayers for life. His 
 son should never blush for him. He had too often met 
 the ugly, misshapen thing called Death, on the main, in 
 the enemy's stronghold, amid battle, sickness, storm and 
 wilderness, to meet him now like a coward. The great 
 idea of God had never, as was reported, been banished 
 from his active mind. It now tilled all its height, its 
 depth. Everlasting, powerful, infinite, omnipresent, it 
 is now felt to be, if never before. It comes into his 
 mind as other ideas fade, a star of hope. 
 
 Yet here is no passion. It is the farewell of a nature 
 that never loved with violence, but with constancy : 
 that was never sufficiently satisfied with the world to 
 love it deeply, or to part from it with fierce regret. He 
 looked on the past without much longing, on the future 
 with no rapturous expectation. 
 
 Under condemnation, the Bishop of Winchester pre- 
 pared him for death. The bishop was astonished at his 
 composure, and found him a good Protestant. 
 
 But his death was not to be sudden. It was a long, 
 weary, lingering process, closing with a barbarous exe- 
 cution. He was reprieved. On December 15, 1604, he 
 entered the Tower a prisoner, to spend thirteen years 
 within its walls. 
 
138 HIS IMPRISONMENT. 
 
 His confinement was not strict. Several persons were 
 allowed to visit him his wife, son, and her maid, a sur- 
 geon, a clergyman, his servants and others. His prison- 
 door looked out upon a garden in which there was a 
 small henhouse that he converted into a still for chemical 
 experiments. He was allowed to take air and exercise 
 within the walls, and even to show himself to the people. 
 
 Yet with all alleviations it was a barbarous punish- 
 ment. It would have been less painful to record his 
 sudden execution, than to trace the gradual decline of 
 that noble form and intellect in the monotony of a cell. 
 The greatest captain of England, how must he have 
 pined for the battle-field ! A gallant courtier, how could 
 he live out of that stately society of which he had been 
 the gracious leader ! While America lay yet an unknown 
 wilderness, how must he have longed to break away 
 from his chain upon some daring voyage of discovery 
 and conquest ! 
 
 His enemies, never idle, fell upon his estate. They 
 hoped to share his supposed wealth among them. The 
 Sherbroke estate had been settled on his son "Walter. 
 Chief Justice Popham, after malicious scrutiny, found 
 a flaw in the 'deed of settlement. It was only an error 
 of a clerk in engrossing, yet he pronounced it invalid. 
 Car, Earl of Somerset, the first of the worthless favorites 
 of James, a poisoner, an adulterer, a heartless coward, 
 begged this estate from the king. He presumed to 
 plunder the fallen hero. Raleigh wrote to him *a letter 
 which might have moved any heart but that of the 
 
HIS MEDICAL PREPARATION. 139 
 
 depraved murderer. He prays Car not to be the iirst 
 to cut him down utterly, and to undergo the curse of 
 those who enter the fields of the fatherless. But Car 
 would not be disappointed of his prey. Lady Raleigh 
 with her children then knelt before the king, but with- 
 out effect. He answered to all their prayers, " I mun 
 have the land. I mun have it for Car.' 7 
 
 Sherbroke was taken and eight thousand pounds were 
 given to Lady Raleigh in compensation. Its value was 
 much greater. 
 
 In his prison Raleigh employed himself in chemical 
 and medical experiments. He prepared a cordial which 
 became a popular medicine. In the time of King Charles, 
 his apothecary, Le Febre, was ordered to prepare a 
 quantity, exactly after the original directions, for the 
 king's use. 
 
 Queen Anne was cured, by Raleigh's medical skill, of 
 a dangerous disease. The reward he desired was that 
 Cobham should again be examined whether he had 
 accused him of treason under his own hand. The king 
 sent a deputation of lords, at the queen's request, to 
 Cobham, who acknowledged to them that his letter 
 accusing Raleigh had been written under 'a deception. 
 The commissioners returned answer to the king, that 
 "Lord Cobham made good all that he ever writ or said ;" 
 an equivocation that marked their malice and treachery. 
 
 One friend at court Raleigh possessed : the intelligent, 
 ambitious young prince, Henry. The prince could un- 
 derstand a nature like that of Raleigh. He possessed 
 
140 PRINCE HENEY HIS FEIEND. 
 
 himself the germs of the heroic. Already he had won 
 the love of the nation, which, humiliated under the 
 undignified rule of his father, looked with hope to the 
 opening virtues of his son. The prince was often in 
 company or in correspondence with Raleigh, cherishing 
 him as a lingering relic of that great Elizabethan era 
 which was past, and wondering " his father could keep 
 such a bird in a cage." No doubt he often listened 
 with enthusiasm to Raleigh's tales of his battles with 
 the Spaniards, and followed him in fancy over the im- 
 mense ocean in pursuit of the shadowy El Dorado. 
 
 When Car, Earl of Somerset, was suing for the Sher- 
 broke estate, Prince Henry, indignant, had applied for 
 it for himself in order to preserve it for his friend. It is 
 said that he had prevailed, and that a recompense in 
 money was to have been given to Car in its stead, when 
 the prince died, not without dark suspicions. 
 
 To Prince Henry, Raleigh poured out those wise 
 speculations which employed him in his prison. He 
 wrote for him a treatise on ship-building, and his obser- 
 vations on the royal navy and sea service. He opposed 
 the marriage of the prince with a daughter of Savoy, 
 and spoke freely to him maxims of liberal policy that 
 would have seemed clear treason to his father. With a 
 tinge of prophecy running through his clear common 
 sense, he thus writes to the prince. He is speaking of 
 those who called James God's vice-gerent and encou- 
 rage his policy of absolutism : 
 
LITERATURE RALEIGH'S CHIEF SOLACE. 
 
 " Exert yourself, oh generous prince, against such sycophants in the 
 glorious cause of liberty, and assume an ambition worthy of you to secure 
 your fellow citizens from slavery. Preserve to your future subjects the 
 divine right of being free agents. The soul is the essence of the man, 
 and you cannot have the true management against his inclination ; choose, 
 therefore, to be the king or the conqueror of your people." 
 
 Had Henry lived this advice would have been fol- 
 lowed, His country's kings would never have aspired 
 to be her conquerors. Raleigh's clear note of warning 
 would not have died, but have changed the destiny of 
 England. The revolution, her purification, need not 
 have followed so soon the death of the prophet. So 
 harsh a remedy might have never been wanted. 
 
 Literature had ever been Raleigh's solace. In youth 
 it had employed and inspired the many idle intervals 
 of camp and courtier life. It now became more than 
 ever useful. Dark as was his exterior world, there 
 remained to him boundless regions of inner life, lit by 
 many pleasant stars, shining with unchanging gladness, 
 among which the pole star of future fame pointed him 
 to his goal. His nature was essentially intellectual and 
 literary. He had more traits of the great author than 
 of the great general or the great statesman. But he had 
 been led away from authorship by the allurements and 
 the emulation of court life. By these his real nature 
 had been held in bondage. From these his captivity 
 now set him free. 
 
 His mental activity became wonderful. He wrote, 
 thought or studied incessantly. Besides chemical and 
 
142 HIS VARIOUS STUDIES. 
 
 medical experiments, lie composed in his prison the 
 larger part of those numerous treatises found in Birch's 
 and other collections. His mind passed discursively 
 over many subjects. Religious distinctions, English 
 policy, naval affairs, seamanship and discovery, fell suc- 
 cessively under his keen observation and were illustrated 
 by an experience gained in the forming era of his coun- 
 try's history. IsTo man of the time thought so liberally 
 as he. Even to Bacon, far-sighted in philosophy, kings 
 were still " mortal gods on earth ;" palaces, pageantries 
 and courts were a nation's glory. Kaleigh saw through 
 the vain delusion. "With him the future was a reality. 
 England was not the mere narrow realm of James, 
 weighed down and humiliated by a half idiot king, but 
 the centre of a vast system of colonization, the parent of 
 nations, whose daring enterprise should develop the 
 resources of the earth, the waves, the intellect, and whose 
 free opinions should hunt down absolutism to despair 
 and humiliation, whether embodied in the gloomy mag- 
 nificence of Philip of Spain, or whatever form the anti- 
 quated dogma might assume. 
 
 All his designs were grand and imposing. He had 
 longed to become the founder of states, a conqueror like 
 Cortes, and to direct the policy of England to the estab- 
 lishment of colonies and the assumption of the empire 
 of the seas. And now, as he turned to literature, an 
 idea equally elevated fixed his attention. He resolved 
 to write the history of the world. 
 
 Circumstances seemed peculiarly unfavorable to this 
 
THE HISTORY OF THE WOULD. 143 
 
 design. His life had not been such as to prepare him 
 for the untiling attention required by any extended 
 literary undertaking. An adventurer, a knight errant 
 of the seas, accustomed to stormy excitements and to 
 listless calms, trained in the camp and on the unsteady 
 deck, it seemed little likely that he could so command 
 his restless intellect as to keep it constant, with unflag- 
 ging interest, to one grand historical theme. Nor could 
 it be supposed that amid his romantic and desultory 
 career he had gained even the foundation of the know- 
 ledge requisite for his proposed work. His acquaintance 
 with the ancient languages could be but faint; his 
 knowledge of the ancient authors but superficial. If he 
 remembered the leading facts of oriental and classical 
 history it was all that could be looked for from a military 
 leader in constant employment by land and sea. 
 
 But Ealeigh had been a diligent student in all periods 
 of his life. Few days had passed without being partly, 
 and often in a great measure, devoted to active study. 
 Wherever he went, on land or sea, his books were his 
 constant companions. 
 
 His desultory career, too, was not useless to the his- 
 torian. Acquainted with courts, with camps, with 
 foreign manners, he came to his great undertaking with 
 advantages which merely literary men do not possess. 
 He had been engaged in actual warfare and could de- 
 scribe, with vividly clear conceptions, the manceuvering 
 of hostile armies. He had learned the necessity of 
 describing to his reader the peculiar character of every 
 
144: EFFECT OF HIS IMPRISONMENT. 
 
 new land into which the progress of events invited him. 
 His knowledge of courts, of kings, of actual warfare and 
 negotiation was an advantage that few historians have 
 
 Captivity, too, had made him a purely literary man. 
 In the course of a long imprisonment his ardent restless- 
 ness was stilled and his attention wholly fixed upon 
 mental progress. His friends supplied him with books. 
 Sir Kobert Cotton, the possessor of the best library in 
 England, seems to have furnished him with materials 
 with the greatest liberality, and his mind, with some 
 transient intervals of discontent when it once more 
 wandered to El Dorado, or busied itself with politics, 
 must gradually have become engrossed with its great 
 design. To become a great historian he now labored 
 with the same ardor and resolution that had marked him 
 in battle and in discovery. He had chosen a noble 
 subject, the progress of man from the creation to his 
 own day, and as he felt that the remainder of his life 
 must probably pass away in prison, he wrote with the 
 minute accuracy of a captive seeking to lengthen out a 
 task that beguiled the weariness of confinement and yet 
 with the enthusiasm of an ardent follower of fame. 
 
 He entered upon the task, however, with sincere self- 
 distrust. The greatness of the subject, the length of his 
 proposed work, and the variety of faculties and know- 
 ledge which its proper execution demanded, filled him 
 with alarm. In a touching preface he relates his dis- 
 couragements. How time had dulled the ardor with 
 
PREFACE TO THE HISTORY. 14:5 
 
 which he was wont to enter upon his youthful under- 
 takings : ho\t brief was the period left him for the fulfill- 
 ment of his design. 
 
 " How unfit and unworthy a choice," he writes, " I 
 have made of myself to undertake a work of this kind, 
 my own reason, though exceeding weak, hath sufficiently 
 resolved me. For had it beene begotten then with my 
 first dawn, when the light of common knowledge began 
 to open itself to my younger years, and before any 
 wound received from Fortune or Time, I might well have 
 'doubted that darkness and death would have covered it 
 and me long before the performance. For beginning 
 with the creation I have proceeded with the History of 
 the "World, and lastly prepared (some few years excepted) 
 to confine my discovery within this our Renowned Isle 
 of Great Britain. I confess it had better suited my dis- 
 abilities, the better part of whose times are worn out in 
 travel, to set tight as I could the unjointed and scattered 
 frame of our English affairs than of Universal the day 
 of a tempestuous life drawn on to the very evening ere 
 I begin. 
 
 " But those inmost and all-piercing wounds which are 
 wracking while uncured, with the desire of satisfying the 
 few friends which I have tried by the fire of adversity 
 the former prompting, the latter persuading have 
 caused me to make my thoughts legible and myself the 
 subject of every man however weak." 
 
 So to heal the bitter wounds of regret, of disappoint- 
 ment, of broken friendships and. of forgotten favors, he 
 
 7 
 
146 SLOW SALE OF THE WOEK. 
 
 betook himself to literature. What though the night of 
 age and death was closing upon him ! He would still do 
 what he might. What though youthful ardor had fled 
 for ever ! still had he the goads of mortification and dis- 
 appointment to urge him forward. Those racking 
 wounds might yet be soothed, the contempt of the world 
 be forgotten, the listlessness of his prison life be borne 
 amid the engrossing interest of a high intellectual pur- 
 suit. 
 
 The history, embracing a period extending from the 
 creation to the sixth century of Rome, was published in 
 1614. It is said to have had so slow a sale that the 
 publisher was ruined. The story, however, is doubtful. 
 In later times it was highly valued and was looked upon 
 as one of the finest monuments of British genius. Many 
 editions were published. It was long the best account 
 of the nations of antiquity composed by an Englishman. 
 It is now seldom read, and even many, not wholly igno- 
 rant, have forgotten that Sir Walter Raleigh was, in his 
 own age and long after, the first and most celebrated of 
 the British historians. 
 
 To compose this work he must have gone through an 
 amount of reading remarkable even in the age of 
 Camden, and his antiquarian society. It shows an 
 acquaintance with all classical historians, with the 
 deeper philosophy of Greece, and with the sacred 
 writings. Its style is singularly strong and natural. 
 With some of the obscurity of a metaphysician, it yet 
 in descriptive passages, is ever clear and easy. It is far 
 
HIS PUKE ENGLISH. 147 
 
 less confused than that of Bacon and more weighty 
 than that of Sydney. Its English, fresh and unassuming, 
 flows onward in graceful periods, with none of that 
 affectation of antiquity which marks the prefaces of 
 Spenser or the inflated pages of the Arcadia. The 
 language in that age had no acknowledged standard. 
 Each writer, therefore, selected for himself the guise 
 in which he would convey his thoughts. With his accus- 
 tomed independence, E-aleigh made a language of his 
 own, nearly approaching the tone of common conversa- 
 tion, and separated from it but by the absence of vulgar 
 phrases. He chose simplicity of expression in an age 
 when the chief merit of a writer was supposed to lie in 
 the discovery of a style that ran into exaggerated 
 euphuism like that of Sidney, or into curt sententious- 
 ness like that of Bacon. His English was the best of 
 his age with the single exception of that of Shak- 
 speare. 
 
 His thoughts are strikingly new ; not with the 
 labored singularity of those of Bacon, but with a fresh 
 and natural simplicity that flows from a peculiar genius. 
 Of all his contemporaries I should compare him chiefly 
 with Shakspeare. Both were more practised in the 
 world than other writers ; the one from mingling much 
 with its varied scenes ; the other from a diligent study 
 of actual life for dramatic purposes. Both wrote in a 
 language more nearly approaching that of our own 
 time. Both contributed to give to the present English 
 its naturalness, richness, and strength, and have taught 
 
148 HIS ORIGINALITY OF THOUGHT. 
 
 succeeding writers to avoid labored thoughts, and unna- 
 tural conceits. 
 
 The originality of Raleigh's nature shows itself in his 
 treatment of his materials. He does not simply copy 
 the ancient historians, but compares and collates them 
 with the skepticism of a Niebuhr. He turns contemp- 
 tuously from the authority of ancient names. " For 
 myself," he says, " I shall never be persuaded that God 
 has shut up all the light of learning within the lan- 
 thorne of Aristotle's brain." And he evidently looks 
 upon the Latin historians, particularly Livy, with the 
 same spirit which in the modern school of Beaufort, 
 Mebuhr, and Arnold, has led to a complete over- 
 throw of the received legends of Roman history. 
 Raleigh's fresh and animated researches, had they 
 fallen upon fruitful soil, might have prevented all those 
 servile copies of Livy and Dion Cassius, which, bor- 
 rowed from France, became the chief works upon that 
 subject, for more than two centuries afterwards. As an 
 example of his peculiar skepticism in Roman history, as 
 well as of his style, I add a passage from his History of 
 the "World. He is endeavoring to construct a probable 
 account of the exploits of the two Scipios in Spain. It 
 will recall to the reader many passages of similiar criti- 
 cism in Arnold and Niebuhr. 
 
 " The acts of these two brethren (Publius and Cn. Scipio), in their 
 province were very great, and, as they are reported, marvellous. And 
 pcradventure, if we durst be bold to say it, the victories of the Scipios 
 were neither so many nor so great as they are set out in Livy. This we 
 
MILITARY EXPERIENCE. 149 
 
 may be bold to say, that the great Captain Fabius, or Livy in his person, 
 maketh an objection unto Scipio, which neither Scipio nor Livy for him 
 doth answer ; that if Asdrubal were vanquished, as Scipio would say, 
 by him in Spain, strange it was, and as little to his honor as it had been 
 extremely dangerous to Rome, that the same vanquished man should invade 
 Italy. And indeed, it is an incredible narration, that Asdrubal, enclosed 
 on all sides, and not knowing how to escape out of battle, save only by 
 the steep descent of rocks, over a great river that lay at his back, ran away 
 with all his money, elephants, and broken troops, over Tagus directly 
 towards the Pyrenees, and so towards Italy ; upon which he fell with 
 more than three score thousand armed soldiers. Neither do I see how 
 it hangs well together that he chose a piece of ground very defensible 
 but most incommodious for his retreat, if he should happen to be van- 
 quished ; and yet that he sent all his money and elephants away before 
 him, as not intending to abide the enemy ; or how it could be true, that 
 these his elephants, being so sent before, could hinder the Romans (for 
 so they are said to have done in the last battle between him and Scipio) 
 from breaking into his camp. Wherefore we can no more than be sorry, 
 that all Carthaginian records of this war, and Spanish (if there were 
 any) being utterly lost, we can know no more thereof than what it hath 
 pleased the Romans to tell us ; unto whom it were no wisdom to give 
 too much credit." 
 
 In this criticism Kaleigh's military experience aids 
 his theoretical skepticism. His varied knowledge was 
 ever in use, and combined with his native independence 
 of thought to lead him to an impartial scrutiny of his 
 materials. The spirit of skepticism runs through all 
 the work. It dissects and questions the speculations of 
 the philosophers, as well as of the historians, and leads 
 him into many discussions in the earlier chapters, 
 which, while they take much from its popular interest, 
 give it a peculiar depth. Of these discussions Hume 
 
150 HIS METAPHYSICAL REASONINGS. 
 
 speaks contemptuously. To Mm they were only tedious 
 " Jewish and Kabbiiiical learning." 
 
 Yet as examples of novel thinking they indicate the 
 nature of Kaleigh's genius, while the lover of intellec- 
 tual subtleties will find them not unamusing. There is 
 an alluring quaintness in the titles of some of the books, 
 particularly as they stand as portals opening to the 
 Grand History of the "World. One is on " the Place of 
 Paradise," others, " of our base and fallen bodies and 
 that the care thereof should yield to that of the immor- 
 tal soul." " That man is as it were a little world with a 
 digression touching our mortality." " Of The Two 
 Chief Trees in the Garden." And similar themes. 
 
 Raleigh thus confutes Pantheism : " For the rest I do 
 account it not the meanest, but an impiety monstrous to 
 confound God and nature be it but in terms. For it 
 is God that only disposeth of all things, according to 
 his will. It is Nature that can dispose of nothing; 
 God commands, Nature obeys. God begets all things ; 
 Nature is begotten." 
 
 He calls great conquerors "Troublers of the world, 
 who have bought their glory with so great destruction 
 and effusion of blood." And with the instinctive recti- 
 tude of a man of genius, doubts the propriety of award- 
 ing fame to mere courage and military skill. 
 
 His plan of historical composition is imperfect. 
 Hume's criticism was just, and the work without its 
 singular introduction would have been more widely 
 read. Some features, however, it had which Hume 
 
A PASSAGE FKOM THE HISTORY. 151 
 
 might well have imitated. It abounds in descriptions 
 of scenery and manners. Kaleigh seldom carries the 
 reader to a new country without endeavoring to define 
 to him its nature and its resources. To do this he brings 
 into use all his varied knowledge. He quotes largely 
 from books of travel and late voyages. He even uses 
 Mandeville with some distrust and a degree of confi- 
 dence which modern discoveries have justified him in 
 awarding. Had he possessed more accurate sources of 
 information than the few researches of travellers in 
 that age he would have produced a work in this respect 
 resembling that of the trustworthy Arnold. 
 
 I quote but one passage more from the history of the 
 world. It is his account of Scipio Africanus. " This 
 is that Scipio, who afterwards transferred the war into 
 Afric, where he happily ended it to the great honor and 
 profit of his country. He was a man of goodly pre- 
 sence, and singularly well-conditioned, especially he 
 excelled in temperance, continency, bounty, and other 
 virtues that purchase love, of which qualities what 
 great use he made shall appear in the tenor of his 
 actions following. As for those things that are reported 
 of him, savoring a little too much of the great Alex- 
 ander's vanity : how he used to walk alone in the 
 capitol, as one that had some secret conference with 
 Jupiter ; how a dragon (which must have been one of 
 the gods and in all likelihood Jupiter himself) was 
 thought to have conversed with his mother, entering her 
 chamber often and vanishing away at the coming in of 
 any more, and how of these matters he nourished the 
 
152 ITS STYLE AND SUBJECT. 
 
 rumor by doubtful answers ; I hold them no better than 
 fables, devised by Historians, who thought thereby to 
 add unto the glory of Rome ; that this noble city might 
 seem not only to have surpassed other nations in the 
 virtue of the generality, but also in the worth of one 
 single man. To this end nothing is left out that might 
 serve to adorn this Roman champion. For it is con- 
 fidently written, as a matter of unquestionable truth, 
 that when a proconsul was to be chosen for Spain, there 
 durst not any captain of the principal citizens offer him- 
 self as petitioner for that honorable, but dangerous 
 charge ; that the people of Rome were much astonished 
 thereat ; that, when the day of election came, all the 
 princes in the city stood looking one another in the 
 face, not one having the heart to adventure himself in 
 such a desperate service ; and finally, that this Publius 
 Cornelius Scipio, being then about four and twenty 
 years of age, getting up upon a high place, where he 
 might be seen of all the multitude, requested and 
 obtained, that the office might be conferred upon him. 
 If this were true, then were all the victories of L. Mar- 
 cius no better than dreams, and either very unreason- 
 able was the fear of all the Roman captains, who durst 
 not follow Claudius Nero, that not long before was gone 
 to Spain propraetor, or very bad intelligence they had 
 out of the province, which Asdrubal, the Carthaginian, 
 as we heard even now, was ready to abandon. But 
 upon these incoherences which I find in the too partial 
 Roman Historians, I do not willingly insist." 
 
 Once more, after thirteen years of forced repose, he 
 
EALEIGH BECOMES HIGHLY POPULAR. 153 
 
 came forward before the world, the adventurous, rest- 
 less, valiant spirit he had appeared to his Elizabethan 
 contemporaries. His expedition to Guiana was the 
 single warlike enterprise that marked the sluggish 
 reign of James. It recalled to the nation something 
 of the realities of the times of Drake and Frobisher. 
 
 His enemy Cecil had died. Car, the favorite, had 
 fallen under a charge of poisoning, and was now a 
 prisoner in disgrace. The new favorite, Villiers, was 
 all-powerful. Raleigh's friends applied to Sir Wm. St. 
 John and Sir Edward Villiers, the uncles of the favorite, 
 offering them fifteen hundred pounds to influence their 
 nephew to obtain his release. The bribe succeeded in 
 procuring an act of justice which no solicitation nor 
 argument had been able to hasten. Raleigh was released 
 and placed by the royal commission at the head of a 
 naval force destined for Guiana. 
 
 In his fallen fortunes, through all his dreary imprison- 
 ment, the vision of Eldorado had never ceased at inter- 
 vals to dawn upon his mind in all its wonted brightness. 
 His youthful imagination survived disgrace and disap- 
 pointment. The poetic element of his nature remained. 
 He still hoped to repair his fortunes by one bold achieve- 
 ment, to win wealth, renown, and power, and to close 
 his varied life by securing the fortunes and greatness of 
 hig family. 
 
 He was now an object of general love and compassion 
 to the people, who glowed with hatred against Spain, 
 despised the pacific timidity of James, and longed for 
 
 7* 
 
154: THE SPANIARDS ANTICIPATE HIM. 
 
 nothing so much as a war with the Spaniard, and a 
 renewal of those glorious forays upon the sea which had 
 signalized and enriched the reign of Elizabeth. But 
 the old spirit of buccaneering had long since died out. 
 The famous mariners who had swept the Spanish main, 
 the Drakes, the Cumberlands, the Howards, were dead. 
 Of all that noble company Raleigh alone survived ; his 
 great faculties wasting unemployed in the Tower, and 
 the fame of his past achievements rising up more 
 proudly day by day, to the disgrace of the degenerate 
 king who had deprived the nation of its boldest com- 
 mander. The people therefore universally loved and 
 honored Raleigh. His old pride and unpopularity were 
 forgotten. And as he came forth from the Tower to 
 head a new expedition to the Spanish main, he was wel- 
 comed with general joy. 
 
 But Spain had already anticipated him. It had 
 treated with contempt the right which he had estab- 
 lished for England to the possession of Guiana, by 
 priority of discovery. It had already settled and built 
 a town in that country. And no sooner did Gondomar, 
 the Spanish ambassador, hear of Raleigh's preparations 
 than he complained of it to the king, as a violation 
 of the peace between the two countries. James was 
 intimidated. He repented of his concession to Raleigh. 
 But he could not now retract. He therefore assured 
 Gondomar that the expedition was not a military one, 
 and that Raleigh would not venture to violate the peace. 
 He betrayed to the Spaniard the exact number and 
 
155 
 
 power of Ms ships, together with the place where he 
 intended to land, and thus enabled him to warn his coun- 
 trymen in Guiana to guard against surprise. 
 
 Raleigh's fleet consisted of twelve ships, and he was 
 attended by a large number of adventurers. His princi- 
 pal object was to discover a mine of gold of incalculable 
 richness, which lay in El Dorado not far from the river 
 Orinoco. Hume thinks that the story of the mine was 
 a mere feint, and that his only real design was to attack 
 the Spanish settlements. He urges that so large a fleet 
 would not be required for a simple voyage of discovery. 
 
 But there is no probability in this theory. Ealeigh 
 evidently was a sincere believer in El Dorado. On this 
 belief he had now risked all that he possessed, his life, 
 fortune and fame. The expenses of the expedition were 
 paid with the remnant of his former property. The 
 eight thousand pounds which had been given in com- 
 pensation for his Sherbroke estate, with twenty-five 
 hundred pounds raised for him by his devoted wife upon 
 her estate in Surrey, were all ventured upon this last 
 scheme. The adventurers who accompanied him were 
 chiefly his own relatives or friends who had been 
 allured by his fame and confided in his wisdom. He 
 took with him his eldest son "Walter, and his staunch 
 friend, captain Keymis. It is plain that once more 
 his ardent spirit flamed high, tfrat his bold imagination 
 was on fire, and that he firmly believed that the glitter- 
 ing vision which had so often eluded him was now at 
 last within his reach. 
 
156 HIS LAST EXPEDITION. 
 
 Broken by age, for he was now sixty-six years old, pal- 
 sied and withered by confinement and sorrow, the hero, 
 undaunted, \vent forth from, England on his doubtful 
 voyage, as bravely and hopefully as he had broken into 
 the harbor of Cadiz. He wrote to his wife on his out- 
 ward passage that he had been very sick, but that his 
 son remained well, and that they had yet strength enough 
 to accomplish all they had undertaken. He was so 
 weakened by a fever when he arrived at the mouth of the 
 Orinoco that he was carried about in a chair. He sent 
 Keymis up the river to take possession of the mine. 
 The Spaniards fired upon the English, who immediately 
 attacked them, took the town of St. Thomas, and plun- 
 dered it. Young "Walter Raleigh fell dead among the 
 the first. Keymis did not reach the mine, but returned, 
 unsuccessful, to his commander with the intelligence of 
 his son's death. In the bitterness of his grief and dis- 
 appointment Raleigh reproached Keymis with having 
 deluded and betrayed him. The faithful captain went 
 to his cabin and shot himself, in mortification and 
 remorse. The adventurers, alarmed at their own guilt, 
 in having attacked and plundered a Spanish town during 
 profound peace, resolved to return to England, carrying 
 Raleigh with them. 
 
 Such was his last, disastrous voyage. In the account 
 which he sent Secretary. Winwood from St. Christopher, 
 he endeavors, with great art, to excuse himself. He 
 says that the capture of the town was not designed but 
 accidental. He lays the blame of the attack upon 
 
UK RETURNS TO DIE. 157 
 
 . Keymis, and skillfully brings forward the argument that 
 England's claim to Guiana justified all his proceedings. 
 But he had no heart to write his misfortunes to that 
 wife whose fortunes and happiness he had ruined. He 
 tells her to ask Winwood for a copy of his letter, which 
 will give her all the particulars, a for my brains are 
 broken," he adds, " and it is a torment to me to write, 
 especially of my misery." 
 
 When Raleigh landed at Plymouth, his frame quiver- 
 ing with disease and his golden vision vanished for ever, 
 he was received with sympathy and veneration by his 
 countrymen. To them he was still, though unsuccessful, 
 the gallant and gifted soldier, the firm though ill- 
 rewarded patriot. It is not likely, therefore, that James 
 would have ventured upon so unpopular a measure as 
 his execution had he not been forced to sacrifice him to 
 the solicitations of Gondomar. 
 
 Spain was resolved to have his head. She could not 
 feel secure while the conqueror of Cadiz and the brave 
 assailant of the armada was yet alive, sighing to renew 
 the achievements of his youth. Gondomar, therefore, 
 pressed the feeble king with threats and allurements. 
 He called Raleigh a pirate. He exclaimed that he had 
 broken a sacred peace, that he had plundered a Spanish 
 town, and had even proposed to his associates to waylay 
 and capture the plate fleet. The king's old dislike and 
 suspicion of Raleigh seconded the demands of the 
 Spaniards. He published a declaration professing his 
 detestation of the expedition, and charging his subjects 
 
158 ATTEMPTS TO ESCAPE. 
 
 to give in all the evidence they possessed in relation to 
 it. Raleigh's friends exerted themselves to save him, 
 but found James relentless. Lord Carew went on his 
 knees before the king, begging for Raleigh's life. James 
 answered that he had as well hang him as give him up 
 to the Spaniards, which he must certainly do. When 
 Carew persisted, he said all he could do was to give 
 Raleigh a hearing. 
 
 From Plymouth Raleigh was brought to London in 
 charge of his relative, Sir Luke Stukely, who had been 
 sent to arrest him. At Plymouth he might have escaped. 
 He afterwards lamented to his wife that he had not done 
 so. In order to delay his fate he is reported to have 
 feigned illness. He endeavored to escape in disguise 
 from a boat on the Thames, but was betrayed by the 
 infamous Stukely, apprehended and confined in the 
 Tower. He was examined before the chancellor and 
 other commissioners, and it was then resolved to execute 
 the sentence which had been passed upon him sixteen 
 years before. 
 
 He was told that he must prepare for death. Although 
 weakened by fever he was taken while in a severe ague 
 fit to the bar of the Court of the King's Bench, to receive 
 his sentence. The writ was read, and Yelverton, the 
 attorney, said : " My lords, Sir Walter Raleigh, the 
 prisoner at the bar, was fifteen years since convicted of 
 high treason committed against the person of his majesty. 
 His majesty now calls him to execution. Sir Walter 
 hath been a statesman and a man who, in regard to his 
 
THE APPKOACH OF DEATH. 159 
 
 parts and qualities, is to be pitied. He hath been a 
 star at which the world hath gazed; but stars may fall." 
 
 Raleigh was asked what he had to say why sentence 
 of death should not be passed upon him. He replied : 
 " My lord, my voice has grown weak by reason of sick- 
 ness." 
 
 Chief Justice. "Sir Walter, your voice is audible 
 enough." 
 
 Raleigh went on to urge that though never been 
 explicitly pardoned by the king, that he yet had received 
 an implied pardon. The chief justice interrupted him, 
 asserting that his former sentence still remained in force. 
 Raleigh then said that he threw himself upon the mercy 
 of the king. He was taken in custody by the sheriff 
 of Middlesex. A warrant for his execution had been 
 signed by the king, who would listen to no appeals for 
 mercy for the noble prisoner, though his own queen 
 seems to have been one of the intercessors. He was 
 condemned to be beheaded. 
 
 As death approached he grew calm and cheerful. 
 The sorrows of life could no more wound him. The 
 Dean of "Westmoreland, who attended him, was aston- 
 ished at his cheerfulness. He took the communion, but 
 persisted in professing his innocence. He asserted he 
 had done no wrong. He even amused himself at this 
 time by writing verses, and a fine poem, the Pilgrimage, 
 is ascribed to this late hour. On the morning of his 
 execution he was very cheerful, taking a hearty break- 
 fast and beguiling his time with smoking. 
 
160 HIS EXECUTION. 
 
 On Thursday, October 29, 1618, the great author, 
 discoverer and soldier was led to the scaffold. He wore 
 a smiling countenance. He saluted the lords and gentle- 
 men, whom he recognized among the crowd, with his 
 usual courtesy. In his speech to the sheriff he again 
 protested his innocence. The scaffold was then cleared. 
 He prepared for execution, distributing his hat, money 
 and other trifles among his attendants. He begged 
 Lord Arundel to intercede with the king that no defam- 
 atory writing might be suffered to appear against him 
 after his death. In concluding his request, he said : "I 
 have a long journey to go ; I will now take my leave." 
 He then felt the edge of the axe, saying : " It is a sharp 
 remedy but a sure one for all diseases." Passing around 
 the scaffold, he begged those near to pray that God 
 would strengthen and assist him. He then laid his 
 head upon the block and died. 
 
 His head was long preserved by his devoted lady in 
 a case. She survived her husband twenty-nine years, 
 during all which time she preserved this sorrowful and 
 dreadful memento. When she died it came in charge 
 of his son, Carew, who finally buried it. His body was 
 interred in the church of St. Margaret. 
 
 His family sank with him. Walter, his eldest son, 
 had fallen in El Dorado. Carew, born while he was a 
 prisoner, was educated at Oxford, and came to court 
 about five years after his father's death, under the 
 patronage of the Earl of Pembroke. James could not 
 bear to look upon him. He said he appeared to him 
 
HIS SON CAREW. 161 
 
 like the ghost of his father. Pembroke advised him to 
 travel during the king's life. "When Charles became 
 king, he petitioned the House of Lords to have his 
 father's estate restored to him. Charles sent for him, 
 treated him with great kindness, but told him that 
 Sherbroke had been conveyed to the Earl of Bristol, in 
 his father's reign, for ten thousand pounds, and that his 
 petition could not, therefore, be granted. The king 
 made it a condition of his favor, that Raleigh should 
 resign all claim to Sherbroke. The friendless youth 
 consented ; and Charles settled a pension of four hundred 
 pounds for life upon Lady Raleigh, with a reversion to 
 her son after her death. 
 
 He married Lady Philippa, widow of Sir Anthony 
 Ashley, who had a large fortune. In 1634, he was 
 made a gentleman of the king's bedchamber. In 1651, 
 during the revolution, when the Earl of Bristol had fled 
 to the continent, he petitioned the revolutionary Parlia- 
 ment to have Sherbroke restored. A committee of 
 the House reported favorably to his petition, but nothing 
 was done. Not long after, by the favor of General 
 Monk, he was made governor of the Island of Jersey. 
 He was the author of some poetry, and wrote a defence 
 of his father. His son Walter was knighted by Charles 
 H. but died young, the last of his race. 
 
 In view of the whole life of Sir Walter Raleigh, it is 
 difficult to determine upon which of his various great 
 qualities and successes his fame with posterity should 
 rest. In almost everything that he attempted he excelled. 
 
162 THE INTELLECT AND CHARACTER OF RALEIGH. 
 
 He was a poet, the author of sweet and touching verses. 
 A warrior unsurpassed in courage, coolness and decision. 
 A courtier of remarkable address. As Yelverton said 
 upon his trial, he was "a statesman at whom the world 
 gazed as at a star." His noble schemes of colonization 
 and discovery, have made the ]STew World the home of 
 the Anglo-Saxon. As an historian he was learned, saga- 
 cious, and original. His wide and boundless learning 
 flows without stint through his pages and wearies the 
 reader with a profusion of riches. He brings into his- 
 torical studies the same bold and creative spirit which 
 marked him as a warrior or as a discoverer, and there can 
 be no doubt, that had his work been properly studied 
 and appreciated by his successors, it must have produced 
 a complete revolution in historical research. In fact 
 Beaufort and Niebuhr had done little more than apply 
 to Greek and Roman history, the skepticism recom- 
 mended by Sir Walter. 
 
 The character of Raleigh was as varied and peculiar 
 as was his intellect. At one moment he was engrossed 
 with the pomp and pleasures of the world, at another 
 he fled with sincere penitence to enter into communion 
 with the deity. He loved nature, simplicity, and peace, 
 yet he chose to shine in the court of Elizabeth, the most 
 extravagant, and luxurious of his peers. He was fond 
 of fine dress, diamonds, stately pageants, and costly 
 entertainments : he was proud, revengeful, and fond of 
 power ; he sought to win the affection of his mistress the 
 queen, by a profession of unbounded love, and to gain her 
 
163 
 
 admiration by perilous exploits on land and sea. Yet 
 in the midst of this stimulating pursuit he was wedded 
 to one for whom he evidently continued ever afterward 
 to cherish a most unfaltering affection. There were 
 moments when Raleigh indulged in dissimulation and 
 falsehood. At others he was the most sincere and open 
 of his race. Nor can we avoid perceiving that his 
 nature, originally designed for purer purposes, was 
 gradually tainted by the influences of a courtier's life ; 
 and that his character wants that dignity and elevation 
 which we readily ascribe to his intellect. 
 
WILLIAM CAMDEN. 
 
 CAMDEN was born in the Old Bailey, London, May 
 2d, 1551. He was one of the few eminent Englishmen 
 who have come from the metropolis. His father was a 
 painter and stainer, a circumstance which Camden, in 
 his fame, never forgot, but left, at his death, a gilt bowl 
 to the company of painters and stainers of London, 
 inscribed with the words, " The gift of Win. Camden, 
 son of Sampson Camden, Painter, of London." His 
 mother was a Curwen, of an old family in Cumber- 
 land. 
 
 The historian was therefore poor by birth and low in 
 station, and little is known of his early life. When he 
 was about twelve years old, being seized with the 
 plague, which was then prevailing in London, he was 
 taken into the country for the benefit of his health, 
 and, on his recovery, was sent to St. Paul's School, 
 where, it is said, he delighted in the study of the lan- 
 guages. He soon after entered Oxford as a servitor, 
 and being disappointed of a scholarship in Magdalen 
 College was invited by his friend and tutor, Dr. Thomas 
 
HE GOES UP TO LONDON. 165 
 
 Thornton, to Pembroke. Here he became noted for his 
 devotion to study, and already began to indulge his 
 passion, for antiquarian research, a taste which was 
 shared by several of his acquaintances. "When Dr. 
 Thornton was made a canon of Christ's Church he car- 
 ried Camden with him, and entertained him for some 
 time at his house. At twenty Camden became a 
 candidate for a fellowship at All Souls, but failed 
 because his Protestant principles were displeasing to 
 the majority of the college. His circumstances now 
 obliged him to leave the University, but in 1588, after 
 the publication of the Britannia, Oxford bestowed upon 
 him the degree of Bachelor of Arts, and at a later 
 period that of Master. 
 
 From the University he came up to London, with 
 probably indifferent prospects, and after a brief stay in 
 the metropolis, seems to have wandered away to pass 
 several years in visiting different parts of England, in 
 the indulgence of his ruling taste. He was yet poor 
 and unknown, and probably travelled on foot from 
 shire to shire, examining the remarkable relics of anti- 
 quity, and collecting the first beginnings of that vast 
 fund of local knowledge which finally rewarded his 
 labors. 
 
 Camden was born an antiquarian. Of the few parti- 
 culars known of his childhood, he has himself related 
 the most important. He tells us that even when a 
 schoolboy he could never pass any object of an antique 
 appearance without pausing to examine it. As he 
 
166 HIS EARLY LOVE FOR THE OLD AND FORGOTTEN. 
 
 grew older his singular passion increased in strength. 
 At Oxford he still found leisure to gratify it, and even 
 inspired several of his fellow-students with his own 
 ardent love for the old and the forgotten. "When he 
 became second master of "Westminster School, every 
 vacation or holiday was devoted to distant rambles to 
 the sources of the Thames, or the banks of the Stour, 
 and so successful was he in his explorations, that, while 
 yet under thirty, the fame of his great researches had 
 spread over Europe. 
 
 Among his own countrymen his taste was soon 
 observed and encouraged, and he could hardly have 
 been born in an age more favorable to his peculiar 
 pursuits. The eminent men of the time, grown weary 
 of scholastic speculation, were turning with new ardor 
 to the collection and the study of facts. Bacon, 
 Raleigh, Sidney, and their great contemporaries were 
 all men of original research, and eager for new discove- 
 ries in every branch of learning. When, therefore, the 
 extent and usefulness of Camden's studies became 
 known, he was at once appreciated and sustained. 
 Sidney, amiable and gifted, was his earliest patron. 
 Cotton supplied him with books; the two Goodmans 
 not only aided him with money and books, but secured 
 for him the appointment in Westminster School. 
 
 The studies in which Camden was engaged were not 
 only new to his countrymen, but were singularly well 
 fitted, at that peculiar moment, to awaken and fix their 
 regard. The native pride of Englishmen in the age of 
 
HE RESOLVES TO WRITE OF BRITISH ANTIQUITIES. 
 
 Elizabeth, was heightened by their political situation ; 
 they were separated from the great nations of the 
 continent by their heretical faith and their insular posi- 
 tion ; they stood aloof from their Catholic neighbors, 
 and in defiance of the civilized world. And it was not 
 unnatural, at such a crisis, that their affections should 
 centre, with unusual warmth, upon their own beautiful 
 native island. The purer impulses of patriotism were 
 probably never so strong in England as they were in 
 the age of Raleigh and Camden. Whoever, therefore, 
 could recall the legends of ancient Britain, and invest 
 its most common-place regions with an historical 
 renown ; who could relate to his modern readers the 
 history of every shire, and every town ; could trace the 
 windings of its smallest stream ; repeat the local tradi- 
 tions that clustered around its banks, and recall the 
 ruined cities that once rose proudly at its side ; who 
 could paint so clear a picture of England, past and 
 present, as should be at once familiar and yet new, was 
 certain to arouse the enthusiasm of his countrymen and 
 to deserve their highest applause. 
 
 This was now the aim of Camden. Heretofore he 
 seems to have studied with the discursiveness of an 
 enthusiast, gratifying his love of a peculiar knowledge 
 with indiscriminate zeal. But he had now a definite 
 object, and he resolved to gratify his friends and his 
 countrymen by compiling an accurate account of British 
 antiquities. 
 
 Yet he little foresaw the great labors and difficulties 
 to which his patriotic undertaking must expose him. 
 
168 HIS LABORS. 
 
 His previous studies proved only the beginning of a 
 vast and ceaseless research. His first difficulty was the 
 want of materials : he was for a long time unable to 
 procure a correct copy of the Itinerary of Antoninus, 
 and succeeded finally by the aid of his foreign corres- 
 pondents. When he obtained the Itinerary it opened 
 the way to new labors. He found that the Roman 
 names of towns were often corruptions of the elder 
 British name, and that he must study "Welsh in order to 
 identify them. This language he acquired with less 
 difficulty because it was a living tongue, cherished in 
 that extremity of the island where the Britons had fled 
 from their Roman invaders. On reaching the period 
 of the Saxon invasion, however, his embarrassment was 
 redoubled ; the Saxon language had, in that day, com- 
 pletely died out, or become blended with the Norman 
 French, and no industrious scholars had yet revived its 
 grammar and its dictionaries for the use of the ardent 
 antiquary. He was forced, therefore, to restore a dead 
 language, which had lain unused for four centuries, and 
 which existed only in the fragments of a few forgotten 
 writers scattered in vario-us learned collections. Having 
 thus painfully acquired sufficient Saxon, a fresh obsta- 
 cle opposed him: The early English historians had 
 never been collected or published, and lay hidden, in 
 manuscript form, among the neglected treasures of the 
 private and public libraries. Camden pursued, found, 
 and finally published an edition of a part of these 
 writers for the benefit of future inquirers. 
 
 Thus Roman, Saxon, and Norman, had conspired to 
 
THE BEITANNIA. 169 
 
 perplex the zealous student but liis unyielding energy 
 finally triumphed over them all. In 1586, in the tenth 
 year from its commencement, the Britannia appeared, 
 with a dedication to Lord Burleigh. Camden was 
 about thirty-six when he published the first and imper- 
 fect edition of his great work, the completion of which 
 employed the remainder of his life. 
 
 The Britannia, the offspring of so much patriotic love 
 and such untiring ardor, was received with delight by 
 the Elizabethan public, as well as by all European 
 scholars. We can readily imagine with what joy such 
 intellects as Bacon, Raleigh or Burleigh, must have 
 hailed the appearance of such a work ; it sold rapidly, 
 and in three years passed through three editions, besides 
 two published abroad. Besides a wide renown, Cam- 
 den received, in consequence of his literary success, 
 several substantial rewards. Piers, Bishop of Salisbury, 
 in 1588 made him prebend of Iffercomb, although he 
 had never taken holy orders ; he also received the 
 degree of M. A. from his University : was made Head 
 Master of Westminster School in 1593, and in 1597, at 
 the solicitation of Sir Fulke Greville, was appointed 
 Clarencieux king-at-arms. 
 
 Camden exerted a wide influence upon the eminent 
 intellects of his time : the example of his success found 
 many imitators, and antiquities became the favorite 
 study of the age. His vast learning, his ardent spirit, 
 and the dignity of his patriotic emotions, conspired to 
 place him at the head of a school unrivalled in the 
 
 8 
 
170 CAMDEN'S ANTIQUARIAN FRIENDS. 
 
 annals of England for great acquirements and untiring 
 labor. The highest attainments of the modern scholar 
 seem feeble when compared with those of the contem- 
 poraries of Camden, and even Germany can hardly 
 equal the achievements of those strong men of the age 
 of Elizabeth and James the First. Spelman, Usher, Cot- 
 ton, Saville and Selden, were all Camden's friends, liv- 
 ing together in constant correspondence, cheering each 
 other by mutual sympathy, refusing to be won from 
 their studies by the temptations of wealth or power ; 
 and forming a phalanx of unselfish and devoted students 
 such as the world can hardly hope to possess again. 
 
 Of all his antiquarian friends, Sir Robert Cotton was 
 the most constant and devoted. Himself and his library 
 were said to be Camden's oracles. Sir Eobert was him- 
 self one of the best antiquaries of the age. He had been 
 knighted by James I., and was often consulted by him 
 in the affairs of the government. He shared, however, 
 in those liberal opinions which, with the advance of 
 knowledge, began to stir the British mind during the 
 reigns of James I. and Charles I. and was sent by the 
 latter to the Tower ; an indignity which so preyed upon 
 his spirits that he is said to have died from its effect. 
 Camden often accompanied Sir Eobert in antiquarian 
 researches through the island, and studied with him in 
 his magnificent library. This library, which was im- 
 proved by their mutual efforts and researches, after 
 being enlarged by the son and grandson of Sir Eobert, 
 was finally deposited in the British Museum. 
 
SPELMAN AND USHER. 171 
 
 Sir Henry Spelman, another famous antiquarian, and 
 one of Camden's intimate circle, was also a man of vast 
 and peculiar learning. He had been employed in the 
 service of the state, as men of ability usually were in 
 that age, but at fifty resigned his employment, to 
 devote the remainder of his life to literature. His vari- 
 ous works, but little known to the public, exist as great 
 store-houses from which inferior intellects plunder and 
 appropriate at pleasure. 
 
 Another of Camden's correspondents was Usher, 
 Archbishop of Armagh. Usher had all the peculiar 
 traits of the learned men of the time : he was wholly 
 devoted to study, conceiving every other occupation to 
 be worthless, and contemptible ; and so sincere was he 
 in this conviction that he resigned his whole patrimony 
 to his brothers and sisters lest it might prove an impedi- 
 ment in the way of his mental progress. Like his great 
 contemporaries, he leaned towards liberality in politics, 
 and in religion was accused of Puritanism. His library 
 was, for that age, of immense size, numbering ten thou- 
 sand volumes : he was many years younger than Cam- 
 den, and lived to the Civil War ; but even Cromwell 
 appreciated the learning of the studious prelate, and, 
 when he died, buried him with great pomp in West- 
 minster Hall. During the Civil War, when it seemed 
 unsafe for him to remain at home, Usher was invited to 
 a professorship at Leyden, and was even offered by 
 Eichelieu an asylum in France, with the free exercise 
 of his religion ; but he resolutely refused all invitations 
 to leave his native island. 
 
172 HIS WOEK DOES NOT ESCAPE CRITICISM. 
 
 "With such friends, and supported by the general ad- 
 miration of his countrymen, Camden could not but be con- 
 tent. He went on with new ardor to enlarge and improve 
 his Britannia. The employment was a pleasant one, 
 however laborious ; and the early passion, which had 
 been indulged only on vacations and holidays, he was 
 now enabled to gratify without restraint. His appoint- 
 ment as king-at-arms gave him a sufficient income, 
 and an honorable position ; he was surrounded by 
 friends and admirers ; and his name was repeated with 
 applause in all the courts of Europe. 
 
 Such prosperity could not be long without its pains. 
 A book appeared, entitled " A Discovery of certain 
 Errors published in print in the much commended 
 Britannia :" it was without the name of printer or book- 
 seller, and was evidently the assault of a concealed and 
 unscrupulous enemy. It charged Camden with gross 
 plagiarism, and endeavored to convict him of various 
 serious mistakes. Its author, he at length discovered to 
 be Brooke, the York herald, who had been an aspirant 
 for the place of Clarencieux ; and who, when Camden 
 obtained the post, had taken this means of proving his 
 rival's unfitness for the place, and his own superior 
 merit. 
 
 A few errors, no doubt, were to be found in the 
 Britannia, as Camden ingenuously confesses, but they 
 were not to be discovered by so superficial a writer as 
 Brooke. Camden showed very clearly, in his reply, 
 that his critic had made an error in every instance 
 where he pretended to have discovered one. The 
 
GLOVER AND LELAND. 173 
 
 charge of plagiarism was more imposing: Brooke 
 charged that Camden had merely copied from the 
 unpublished papers of two antiquarians, Glover and 
 Leland, which had been placed in his hands. 
 
 Glover had been Somersetshire herald: he was deeply 
 skilled in antiquities ; but had died early, before he 
 had been able to prepare anything for publication, 
 leaving behind him a confused mass of papers which 
 had been communicated by Lord Burleigh to Camden, 
 and Camden had made use of them as far as they 
 served his purpose, giving, however, all due credit to 
 Glover. 
 
 Leland, another unfortunate antiquary, was empow- 
 ered by Henry YIH., in 1533, to search the libraries of 
 all cathedrals and colleges, for the materials of an Itine- 
 rary ; and, in the meantime, was directed to employ a 
 curate to discharge the duties of the parish of which 
 he was rector, while he made a general survey of Eng- 
 land. He was an ardent student; and, having made 
 large collections, finally, in 1545, settled in London, 
 with the design of compiling his discoveries in one 
 vast work. He proposed to devote sixty books to an 
 account of the different counties ; six to a general sur- 
 vey of the British Isles ; and three to an account of the 
 English nobility and genealogies. But, unhappily, 
 hardly had he commenced his labor, when he went 
 mad : the vastness of the work he had undertaken, it is 
 thought, turned his brain. He died insane, leaving a 
 large collection of papers, of which Camden made 
 
174: CAMDEN'S VARIOUS WRITINGS. 
 
 some use; but which gave no ground for the charge 
 brought against him. The hostile criticism of Brooke 
 therefore soon sank into neglect, and the unlucky herald 
 sank with it. 
 
 Camden's life was a succession of literary labors and 
 triumphs. While master of "Westminster School he 
 published a Greek grammar, which had occupied his 
 attention for twenty-two years. The plan proved so 
 excellent that it was at once adopted in all the public 
 schools, and went through a vast number of editions. 
 
 In 1600, he published an account of the monuments 
 and history of Westminster Abbey ; and soon after an 
 edition of the early English historians, -dedicated to his 
 friend, Sir Fulke Greville. He is said, too, to have 
 meditated a civil history of England, a work which, had 
 he accomplished, would have given us a clearer view of 
 the early English than any succeeding writer has been 
 able to furnish. 
 
 Upon the discovery of the gunpowder plot, King 
 James was anxious that a correct narrative of that 
 remarkable instance of religious phrensy should be 
 drawn up by some able writer to serve as a justification 
 of his own conduct to foreign courts. He selected 
 Camden to be his apologist, and Camden performed the 
 task with his usual success. 
 
 During all his other literary avocations, he had been 
 constantly enlarging and improving his chief work. In 
 1607 he published the complete edition of the Britannia. 
 Time had only served to strengthen its reputation with 
 
HIS LAST WORK. 175 
 
 the public, and he was hailed on all sides as the Strabo, 
 the Yarro, the Pausanius of Britain. 
 
 The last work on which he was engaged was that which 
 gives him a place among historians, his annals of Eliza- 
 beth. Lord Burleigh had first suggested the design of 
 this work to him in 159T, but, although he commenced 
 it about that time, the death of Burleigh the next year, 
 and that of the queen which followed, damped the ardor 
 of the author, and he temporarily abandoned the design. 
 He was now engaged, too, in completing his antiquarian 
 researches, and had little time to devote to the lesser 
 object. But when the final edition of the Britannia was 
 published, he once more turned with all his wonted 
 industry and zeal to record the exploits of the great 
 queen. In common with all the best minds of the time, 
 Camden looked with awe and love to his tyrannical 
 mistress, not ignorant of her many weaknesses, but 
 excusing them all for the sake of her bold and patriotic 
 spirit. His work derives a striking interest from his 
 ardent admiration for Elizabeth. From 1608 to 1615 
 he gave all his attention to this subject, and the publi- 
 cation of his first volume was looked for with eager 
 expectation by the court and the public. In 1615 it 
 appeared, and was highly praised. Selden pronounced 
 this and the life of Henry VII., by Bacon, the only 
 biographies of British monarchs worthy of their theme. 
 
 A second volume was ready for the press by 1617, 
 but Camden prudently resolved that it should not appear 
 until after his death. He felt the danger of treating of 
 
176 THE SCHOLARS OF THE AGE. 
 
 characters and events too near his own time, and had 
 even given some offence by his first volume, particularly 
 in the part relating to the unhappy Queen of Scots. 
 He deposited the manuscript of the second, therefore, 
 in the hands of a friend, who retained it until 1625, 
 when it at length appeared. Another of his literary 
 labors deserves particular mention : a journal which he 
 had kept from the death of Elizabeth to the close of his 
 own life, and which he particularly intended for the use 
 of succeeding historians. 
 
 By frugality he had gathered a considerable property, 
 for, although his income had never been large, his 
 habits were always simple and regular. He was never 
 ambitious. Like Usher and Spelman he preferred a 
 life of study to the toils and danger of high office. 
 
 Avoiding the court and the gay circles of the city, 
 Camden wisely associated almost wholly with learned 
 men. The scholars of that time, more united than their 
 descendants, formed a peculiar and powerful class ; a 
 nobility of the intellect, who held a position in the eyes 
 of the world more illustrious* and conspicuous than that 
 of the feudal aristocracy. They addressed each other 
 with titles of admiration which appear, in the present 
 age, a strong exaggeration; to each other they were 
 " the glory of their time," " the brightest stars of the 
 age." The scholars of France and Germany, acknow- 
 ledging the common brotherhood, no sooner landed in 
 England than they hurried to feast their eyes upon its 
 great luminaries of learning. "When President Brisson, 
 
THE ADMIRATION THEY EXCITED. 17T 
 
 the French ambassador, came over to negotiate the 
 marriage of Elizabeth with the Duke of Anjou, he 
 hastened to pay his respects to Camden, then under 
 thirty, and the second master of "Westminster School. 
 Upon one occasion Camden was yisited by six German 
 noblemen, who begged of him his autograph that they 
 might carry back with them some proof of having 
 beheld him. Ortellius always addressed him in terms 
 of singular veneration ; and the learned Gruter sharply 
 reproved some young men of the Palatinate, who had 
 returned from England without having " consulted its 
 only oracle and beheld its brightest star;" they had 
 neglected to call on Camden. 
 
 In this apparent exaggeration there was much truth 
 as well as honest enthusiasm. The learned man of that 
 day was acknowledged by his contemporaries to be an 
 oracle and a star. Literature had but lately been 
 renewed. "Not many years had passed since the world 
 had been almost as barbarously ignorant as before the 
 discovery of letters. Even yet the possessors of know- 
 ledge were few and highly prized : they were invited 
 from court to court as rare and honored visitors, their 
 fame was sounded from land to land, and their names 
 and memories were treasured as valuable possessions in 
 their native country. 
 
 The power of knowledge, too, was far more strongly 
 felt in that early age than now ; for it had just effected 
 a striking change in the physical condition of mankind. 
 Under its influence Europe had been recovered from 
 
 8* 
 
178 THEIR INFLUENCE. 
 
 barbarism. Men of learning had everywhere been the 
 harbingers of the new era, and wherever they appeared, 
 civilization and refinement had followed closely in their 
 steps. They seemed to carry a blessing with them, and 
 by recalling the inventions of the past, gave rise to all 
 physical advancement. They pictured to the half- 
 civilized nobility of France and England the refinements 
 and comforts of Roman and Grecian life: they com- 
 pared the luxurious villas of Cicero and the palaces of 
 the Empire with the rush-covered halls of the Tudors 
 and the Plantagenets : they showed how, while the 
 haughty Elizabeth was clad in coarse woolen, the Roman 
 nobles had reclined on couches of silk, and a whole 
 Roman audience been covered by a silken canopy: 
 they compared the ill-built, unsightly habitations of the 
 modern merchant with those convenient dwellings which 
 had lined the streets of Rome : they contrasted the ease 
 of ancient manners with the unpolished demeanor of 
 Norman barons and Saxon earls: they compared the 
 luxurious feasts of Sallust or Lucullus with the coarse 
 revelry of the baronial hall : they described the broad 
 roads that penetrated every part of Italy, and pointed 
 with contempt to the narrow trackways that in England 
 were beset by sloughs and endangered by robbers : they 
 showed how literature had crowned ancient civilization 
 with a radiance that was immortal ; how eminent poets 
 and historians had alone preserved the glory of their 
 contemporaries from oblivion ; how, but for literature, 
 the past of Greece and Rome would have been as 
 
THEIR EFFECT UPON THE AGE. 179 
 
 unknown to the modern scholar as was the history of 
 Media and Assyria ; how literature had once been the 
 employment and the solace of emperors and warriors ; 
 how knowledge had been the source of all national 
 advancement, and had lifted the people of antiquity to 
 an excellence in arts, arms and domestic comfort, that 
 should make the half-barbarous moderns blush for their 
 own degeneracy. 
 
 By such pictures did the learned man of the middle 
 ages stir the minds of his contemporaries ; every fact 
 that he rescued from the darkness of the past threw 
 light upon the present, and hastened the progress of 
 physical and mental improvement. By showing what 
 Europe had been, he proved of what it was yet capable. 
 He taught the rude descendants of the Gauls and the 
 Germans to emulate the refinement of their ancient 
 masters the Romans. He taught them how to build 
 comfortable dwellings, to provide good roads, to renew 
 the forgotten inventions of ancient art. He was the 
 oracle to whom kings applied for instruction in govern- 
 ment and manners ; the star that guided the progress 
 of mankind ; and it was not unnatural, therefore, that 
 he should be looked upon with peculiar veneration ; 
 that he should be prized as a valuable possession, and 
 treated as a superior by the rude noble, and ignorant 
 monarch. 
 
 This feeling of veneration for learning still lingered 
 in the reign of Elizabeth, although sensibly declined. 
 Learned men, however, were the last to become con- 
 
180 THE VENERATION ONCE FELT FOR THEM DECLINES. 
 
 vinced that it was actually passing away. They still 
 kept up in words the shadow of their former greatness ; 
 and bestowed upon each other epithets of admiration 
 which, to the modern ear, seem extravagant and even 
 ridiculous. Civilization, however, had now ceased to 
 depend upon mere classical learning for its support. It 
 had already, in some arts, outstripped the skill of the 
 ancients. Its navigators had attained a daring emi- 
 nence more than Phoenician ; its geographers had 
 demonstrated many of the errors of Ptolemy; its 
 manufactures were beginning to rival the fabrics of 
 Tyre ; and a new literature had sprung up of which 
 Shakspeare, Bacon, and Spenser, were the first and 
 noblest fruits. 
 
 Learning, too, in the age of Camden, ceasing to be 
 wholly classical, began to assume a new vocation ; it 
 aimed to collect facts rather from actual observation 
 than from diligent study. It grew creative and origi- 
 nal ; and, since the time of Bacon, learning has gov- 
 erned the progress of mankind not by holding up to its 
 view the great Past, but the greater Future ; not by 
 making him a servile imitator, but by urging him on to 
 new creations and fresh progress. 
 
 One of the most valued of Camden's friends was the 
 sickly, studious and excellent De Thou, " the glory of 
 France and the Prince of Historians," as Camden, in the 
 ardor of his admiration, was wont to address him. 
 They held frequent correspondence and often assisted 
 each other in their common studies. Pe Thou, engaged 
 
CAMDEN CORRESPONDS WITH DE THOU. 181 
 
 upon his history of his own times, applied to Camden 
 for aid; Camden recommended him to use great 
 caution in treating of the history of Mary Stuart. 
 This caution, however, did not prevent De Thou's 
 relation of that episode from giving great offence to 
 King James, and Camden was fixed upon by the king 
 to write a refutation of his friend's narrative. His 
 " animadversions " on that part of De Thou's history 
 show the falseness of many of his statements. Their 
 difference upon this point, however, did not interrupt 
 their friendship. De Thou wrote to Camden, in 
 defence of his own narrative, asserting that he had 
 related nothing except on the authority of persons from 
 Scotland, who had been eye-witnesses of the facts, and 
 had laid no further stress upon Buchanan's account 
 except as it had been confirmed by them ; he requests 
 his friend, therefore, to clear him at court from the 
 suspicion of being hostile to either England or Scot- 
 land. 
 
 London formed the centre of learning under James 
 I., and here were gathered the chief scholars of the 
 nation. The feeble king, without any elevated taste 
 for literature, was still fond of good scholarship, and 
 capable of discerning it. His own folly was mingled 
 with a real love for learning and with a considerable 
 share of information. The only persons upon whose 
 sympathies he had any claim, in his own time, were 
 scholars, and his only pretension to the respect of 
 posterity is that he was the last learned monarch of 
 
182 TIIE FIRST BRITISH ANTIQUARIAN SOCIETY. 
 
 Great Britain. Yet his idle suspicion, about this time, 
 broke up one of the few valuable institutions of Ins 
 reign, the first British Antiquarian Society. 
 
 The learned men of the. metropolis had agreed to 
 meet weekly, for the better prosecution of their favorite 
 study, and Sir Henry Spelman has left the following 
 account of the origin of this society : " About forty 
 years ago," he says, " divers gentlemen of London, 
 studious of antiquities, framed themselves into a college 
 of antiquarians, appointing to meet every Friday 
 weekly, in term, at a place agreed upon, and, for learn- 
 ing's sake, to confer upon some questions in that faculty, 
 and to sup together. The place, after a meeting or two, 
 became certain at Darby House, where the herald's 
 office is kept, and two questions were propounded to 
 be handled at the next that followed; so that every 
 man had a se'night to advise upon them, and then 
 deliver his opinion. That which seems material was by 
 one of the company (chosen for the purpose) to be 
 entered in a book, so it might remain to posterity. The 
 society increased daily, many persons of worth as well 
 noble as learned joining themselves to it." 
 
 After having met regularly for twenty years, this 
 society was for a time broken up : " as all good uses 
 commonly decline," adds Sir Henry, but in 1614 it was 
 revived. " There meet," continues Spelman, " Sir James 
 Ley Knight, then attorney of the Court of Wards, since 
 Earl of Marlebury and Lord Treasurer of England, Sir 
 Robert Cotton, knight and baronet, Sir John Davis, 
 
ITS MEETINGS AKE SUSPENDED. 183 
 
 Sir Richard St. George, Mr. Hackwell, queen's solicitor, 
 Mr. Camden, then Clarencieux, and myself. Of these 
 the lord treasurer, Sir Robert Cotton, Mr. Camden 
 and myself had been of the original foundation, and 
 were all then living of that sort, to my knowledge, 
 saving Sir John Doderidge, knight, justice of the King's 
 Bench." 
 
 Several of the antiquarians, however, were known to 
 entertain liberal opinions, and King James grew 
 jealous of the designs of the associates. He feared 
 that they might discuss other subjects besides antiqui- 
 ties in their weekly meetings, and that their learned 
 inquiries might prove no support ta his cherished 
 prerogative. His dislike towards their association 
 becoming known to the members, they thought it 
 prudent to cease their attendance. A part of the 
 transactions of this society are yet preserved in the 
 Bodleian Library at Oxford. 
 
 Camden was now grown old. At sixty he had 
 retired to a house at Cheshurst, about ten miles from 
 London, and the closing years of his life were devoted 
 to his account of the reign of Elizabeth. About two 
 years before his death, he grew incapable of any 
 literary labor ; but his passion for antiquarian research 
 having no way declined, he resolved to devote a large 
 portion of his fortune to the encouragement of that 
 study among his countrymen. He founded, therefore, 
 a professorship of history at Oxford, where, in early 
 life, he had perhaps felt the want of direction and aid 
 in his own historical studies. On the 17th of May 
 
184: HIS DEATH AND FUNERAL. 
 
 1622, Dr. Piers, the vice-chancellor, announced to the 
 University that Mr. Camden had founded a History 
 Lecture, and had set apart for its support the consider- 
 able sum of 140 yearly, secured upon the income of 
 his manor of Bexley in Kent. The University 
 returned him a vote of thanks, and Degory "Whear, 
 nominated by the founder, became the first professor 
 and was author of several works. 
 
 Camden died soon after, November 9th, 1623, in the 
 seventy-third year of his age. Having never married, 
 from the fear of interruption to his studies, he left the 
 remainder of his property in charity to the poor and in 
 legacies to his relations. He gave his books of heraldry 
 to the herald office, and his manuscripts and printed 
 books to Sir Robert Cotton ; but by some confusion in 
 the terms of his will, the printed books, designed for the 
 Cottonian collection, were seized upon and removed to 
 the library of Westminster. 
 
 He was buried at Westminster Abbey, with great 
 pomp, the whole college of heralds, and great numbers 
 of the nobility and gentry, attending. The procession 
 was met at the doors of the abbey by the dignitaries of 
 the church, arrayed in their priestly robes ; a funeral 
 sermon was preached by the Rev. Dr. Sutton, and then 
 the great antiquarian was laid in the South Aisle, not 
 far from the tombs of the learned Causobon and the poet 
 Chaucer. A white marble monument was raised over 
 his grave, and upon it stood his effigy, bearing in its 
 hand a book, inscribed " Britannia/' 
 
 His life had been long and well spent. He was a 
 
HE NEVER TRAVELLED ABROAD. 185 
 
 member of the Church of England, a man of great sin- 
 cerity, consistency and goodness. His friends loved 
 him steadily and delighted in his society. " I am sure 
 you may make me a happy man without any discontent 
 to yourself," wrote the learned Sir Henry Saville, endea- 
 voring to persuade him to come and live with him in 
 his house at Eton College. And this warmth, of feeling 
 runs through all his correspondence with his friends. 
 
 Although possessing many admirers abroad, who 
 would have received him with uncommon distinction 
 and regard, yet Camden never travelled. His only jour- 
 neys were made along the quiet streams and among the 
 legendary spots of his native island. He preferred to 
 linger in obscure haunts, afar from the busy capital, 
 where he could mark at leisure the windings of river, 
 the hidden ruin, the Roman camp, or the relics of 
 palaces and towers that had been built in the days of 
 William the Conqueror. To a person so simple in taste 
 and so devoted to one pursuit, the glitter of Paris or the 
 learned solemnity of Leyden had little attraction. 
 
 The chief excellence of Camden's writings is their 
 truthfulness and labor. His Britannia is one of those 
 productions of an industrious intellect that startle 
 by their vastness: like Johnson's Dictionary or Gib- 
 bon's History, it seems almost incredible that a single 
 mind could have produced so extensive a work. His 
 motive, Camden asserts, in entering upon this under- 
 taking, was simply a love for his native country, and a 
 desire to revive the memory of its early inhabitants, nor 
 
186 HIS PATRIOTIC ARDOR. 
 
 is there any reason to doubt tlie truth of his patriotic 
 professions. In. the preface he thus relates the origin 
 of the work : "The great restorer of the old geography, 
 Abraham Ortellius, very earnestly solicited me, thirty 
 years ago, to acquaint the world with Britain, that 
 ancient island." And thirty years of enthusiastic and 
 ceaseless labor had alone enabled Camden to fulfill his 
 cherished design. " I submit them " (his labors), he 
 continues, " with the greatest deference and veneration, 
 to men of learning and sincerity, who, if they do not 
 approve, at least, I hope, will pardon what I have 
 attempted out of the zealous love I profess for my 
 native country." 
 
 Such was the patriotic ardor of Camden. The ancient 
 poets wrote in the hope of immortality, and the modern 
 author toils for a pecuniary return ; but the venerable 
 antiquarian was possessed by a rare and unselfish con- 
 viction. He believed that his long labors were destined 
 to add to the glory of his native land, and this simple 
 faith gives vigor to all his descriptions. With him there 
 is no coldness, tameness or weariness. His subject is to 
 him a perpetual joy, and he views his beloved island as 
 a graceful form whose charms he is bound to delineate 
 to the world every line must be imitated and every 
 varying color caught. He describes every shire, pur- 
 sues every river to its source, and candidly allows that 
 there may be some small towns which have escaped his 
 accurate survey. 
 
 Tradition is Camden's particular delight. He rejoices 
 
LEGENDARY LORE OF THE BRITANNIA. 1ST 
 
 to relate how the Stour flows by Chelham and Fulham, 
 where, "'tis a current report among the inhabitants, 
 that Julius Caesar encampt here in his second expedition 
 against the Britains, and thence it was called Fulham, 
 as if one should say, Julius' station or house." He 
 relates the following legend of Blackmore Forest : "At 
 the rise of the Frome, where the soil is most fruitful, 
 Blackmore Forest, once so well wooded but now bare, 
 affords excellent hunting. This is commonly called 
 " The Forest of the White Hart." The name arose from 
 a tradition that King Henry II., while hunting here, 
 among several deer which he had run down, beheld a 
 milk-white hind. He resolved to spare it. Unfor- 
 tunately, soon after, De La Lande, a gentleman of the 
 county, with some others, pursued and took it. The 
 king heard of its fate and was greatly enraged. He 
 imposed a fine upon all who had been engaged in the 
 act, and the land in the neighborhood, to this day, pays 
 into the Exchequer an annual fine called " White Hart 
 Silver." 
 
 When Camden comes to describe London, he revels 
 in legends and antiquarian lore. His patriotism will 
 not allow him to deny the tradition that Brute the 
 Second, nephew of Eneas, was the founder; but, although 
 not perfectly assured of this fact, he is certain that who- 
 ever was its builder, it began with a lucky omen. He 
 asserts that it was as prosperous, during the Roman, 
 Saxon and Norman rule, as any other city in England, 
 scarcely ever falling into any great calamity. He 
 
188 HIS MINUTE DESCRIPTION OF ENGLAND. 
 
 relates, exultingly, that when the Franks were approach- 
 ing to plunder it, the river Thames, ever the true friend 
 of London, enveloped in its fogs a band of Romans, who 
 came to rescue the city, and conducted them in safety 
 to its walls. The great Constantine, he contends, at the 
 request of Helena, his mother, had built around it a wall 
 of hewn stone, of which many fragments yet remained, 
 but the Londoners, when this wall fell through age, 
 refused to repair it, despising all fenced cities, like the 
 old Lacedaemonians, and trusting for defence rather to 
 their own courage. Ludgate, Newgate and Cripplegate, 
 he thought, were all relics of the seven gates that once 
 faced the walls of Constantine. 
 
 In this manner Camden passes over England, describ- 
 ing all the leading traits of the country and showing a 
 close acquaintance with the various races, who had suc- 
 cessively occupied its domains. "Whatever he saw him- 
 self is told accurately and well ; the legends he gives as 
 he hears them, with evidently a strong inclination to 
 maintain their truth. 
 
 Since Camden's time, the little island, which he so 
 enthusiastically loved, has become the ruling power of 
 the globe. The descendants of his countrymen have 
 built up the greatest empire and the greatest republic 
 the world has yet beheld. They have engrossed to 
 themselves all political and religious liberty ; they have 
 planted in every part of the earth the germs of civiliza- 
 tion and progress. For the final causes of these great 
 events, we must look to the Britannia. There are illus- 
 
189 
 
 trated the climate and soil of ancient England, the 
 strange blending of discordant races which took place 
 upon its bosom, and traits of whose conflicting natures 
 may yet be traced in the habits of their descendants ; 
 the long struggle which took place before these opposing 
 races could be blended into one united people ; the con- 
 flict of opinions which followed the cessation of military 
 violence ; the reaction of Saxon liberty against ]STorman 
 feudalism ; and almost every trait that tended to form 
 the national character of Englishmen. 
 
 Camden's "Annales Rerum Anglicarum," his only 
 purely historical work, has met with general favor. 
 Hume thought it the best historical production that had 
 yet been composed by any Englishman, and Selden pro- 
 nounced it equal to the biography of Henry YH., by 
 Bacon. It pleased the author's contemporaries, and has 
 not been wholly forgotten by posterity. Yet the " An 
 nals " want the warmth, zeal and peculiar inspiration 
 of the Britannia. Camden was an antiquarian rather 
 than a historian, and was better fitted to collect the 
 materials for historical composition than to produce a 
 powerful and engaging narrative. 
 
EDWAKD HYDE, EAEL OF CLARENDON. 
 
 CLARENDON'S life was one long error. His master 
 passion was a love of literature ; but lie chose to crush 
 the impulse of nature beneath a haughty and mis- 
 placed ambition. He left his quiet study and the gifted 
 company of authors with whom he had mingled in 
 early youth, to enter the rude arena of the law and 
 the struggle for court favor. His ambition was speed- 
 ily gratified. He became a lawyer of remarkable 
 eminence, and a statesman unequalled in power. 
 Charles I. made him his chosen friend and counsellor ; 
 he became the guardian of Charles II. in his exile, and 
 the chief of his ministry at the Restoration, and at 
 length he reached a position above every other subject 
 of the realm. The heir of the crown married his 
 daughter, and his descendants were destined to sit upon 
 the throne of the Tudors and Plantagenets. But sud- 
 denly he fell. His royal connections availed him 
 nothing. He was driven out of England by the general 
 hatred of his countrymen and the ungrateful policy of 
 his king; and the close of a life, once so prosperous, 
 
HIS ESTIMATE OF HAPPINESS. 191 
 
 was passed in a provincial city of France, in poverty, 
 neglect and contempt. 
 
 Strangely mistaken is the common estimate of good 
 fortune, if Clarendon is to be believed. He names in 
 his memoirs the three happiest periods of his life. He 
 passes with contempt those hours which had been gilded 
 with court favor, and employed in the highest exercises 
 of ambition; when, with Falkland and Colpepper, he 
 had directed the counsels of the first Charles ; or, when 
 in the joyous hours of the Restoration, amid titles, 
 wealth, power and royal connections, he stood next in 
 station to his sovereign, and might well amuse his leisure 
 by preparing for his family a palace worthy of royalty. 
 Such moments Clarendon forgets to dwell upon. Bril- 
 liant as they were with all the splendor of successful 
 ambition, they were not happy: their joy was hollow. 
 His nature claimed a higher gratification; and, amid 
 the pomps and pleasures of the world, sighed for some- 
 thing better. 
 
 The happy periods of his life, he asserts, were three : 
 one, when a fugitive from the rebels in the Isle of 
 Jersey, he commenced his great work the History of 
 the Rebellion; one, when, in 1649, he lingered in 
 poverty and neglect at Madrid, and felt amid the works 
 of Yelasquez and Murillo a love of art grow up within 
 him, almost equal in strength to his love of letters ; and 
 finally, when, fallen and deserted, his old passion for 
 literature and his dreams of immortal fame came to 
 solace his exile at Montpelier, and to crown his old age 
 with a joy that was denied to his prosperous youth. 
 
192 THE HYDES. 
 
 The Hydes were an old family of Wiltshire, who had 
 possessed an estate there since the Conquest. Respect- 
 able, however, as they were, they still occupied a 
 station in the micfdle walks of life, nor was there any- 
 thing in their condition that foretold the great fate that 
 awaited them. Little could Laurence Hyde, the grand- 
 father of Clarendon, a clerk in the Exchequer, foresee 
 that two of his great-grandchildren were to be queens 
 of England ! Laurence Hyde left a good estate which 
 he settled upon his wife, in whose prudence he had 
 great confidence, to be used by her for the benefit of 
 his four sons and four daughters. His children were 
 noted throughout the county for their excellent dispo- 
 sitions, and for living together in constant harmony, in 
 the practice of the old English virtues, of order and 
 content. 
 
 Henry, his third son, the father of Clarendon, was 
 educated for the bar ; but, preferred to pass the earlier 
 portion of his life until his thirtieth year in travelling 
 upon the continent ; he then returned to England, and 
 married. He possessed considerable property; was a 
 quiet, plain man, and lived contentedly at Dinton, in 
 Wilts, esteemed by his neighbors as a peacemaker and 
 a good man. He served in Parliament during Eliza- 
 beth's time; but, upon her death, lived wholly upon 
 his county estate, never visiting London, partly from a 
 love for retirement, and partly from motives of frugal- 
 ity. Another brother, Sir Nicholas Hyde, was a lawyer 
 of eminence, and became chief justice of the King's 
 Bench. Henry Hyde left four sons and five daughters. 
 
CLARENDON ENTEES OXFORD. 193 
 
 Edward, the future chancellor, was born at Dinton, 
 February 18th, 1608. He was educated until thirteen 
 years of age by the vicar of the parish, and was then 
 sent to the University. The younger son of a family of 
 moderate wealth, he must rely upon his talents for 
 advancement. He went up to Oxford with the hope of 
 being elected to a scholarship at Magdalen, and was pro- 
 vided with a letter from King James to Dr. Langton, the 
 head of the college, recommending his election. By some 
 informality he failed to obtain the place, at that time, but 
 the secretary of state having rebuked the principal for 
 not obeying the king's letter, he was elected to fill the 
 next vacancy. None having occurred for a whole year, 
 Hyde was by that time become an only son, his elder 
 brother having died, and he was soon after sent by his 
 father to the Inns of Court to study law, his uncle, 
 Nicholas Hyde, being then treasurer of the society. 
 He left at the University the character of a young man 
 of talent rather than of industry, and of having been 
 led by the example of his brother, into irregular habits, 
 he speaks of his removal from Oxford as having been a 
 most fortunate event. 
 
 At sixteen he was threatened with consumption, and 
 returning to Dinton, passed a year with his father for 
 the recovery of his health. Nor did he at the close of 
 that period return with much satisfaction to the study 
 of his profession. He confesses, in his memoirs, that at 
 this period of his life he loved literature better than 
 law, and was particularly fond of the Roman authors. 
 
 9 
 
194: HE MAKKIES. 
 
 He had also made some dangerous acquaintances 
 among military men, and growing too fond of their 
 society, shared in their dissipations. Yet he thought 
 afterwards, that he had learned something from these 
 associates. His uncle seems to have carefully watched 
 over his law studies, and every night spent some time in 
 questioning him upon what he had read during the day. 
 
 While travelling the circuit with Sir Nicholas, in 
 1628, he fell ill of the smallpox at Cambridge, and lay 
 for a long time in great danger. Another misfortune 
 soon after befell him ; his uncle,* from whose patronage 
 in his profession he must have hoped to profit, caught 
 the jail fever from a prisoner on trial before him and 
 died. 
 
 But a new motive to exertion proved more useful to 
 the young lawyer than hope of patronage. He had 
 fallen in love with a young lady of great beauty but of 
 small fortune, the daughter of Sir George Ayloffe. He 
 now determined to apply himself with undivided ardor 
 to his profession ; and having married, became con- 
 nected with many of the best families of England. He 
 ever recurs with a touching melancholy to this brief 
 period of his early marriage. But his happiness was 
 soon destroyed. His beautiful wife and their unborn 
 child died when they had been but six months married. 
 Overwhelmed with grief, Hyde, in his despair, thought 
 of flying across the seas, into some foreign land, to 
 abandon himself to his melancholy. 
 
 He found, however, a more effectual relief in devot- 
 
IIE IS PRESENTED TO LAUD. 195 
 
 ing himself to his profession, and when three years had 
 passed away, since the death of his first wife, he began 
 to look round for another. One requisite which he now 
 demanded in the lady was a fortune, and this he seems 
 to have found, united with many excellences, in the 
 daughter of Sir Thomas Aylesbury, master of requests, 
 to whom he was married in 1632. For thirty-five years 
 this lady shared his varying fortunes, having died not 
 long before his flight to the continent. About the 
 time of his marriage he lost his excellent parent, " the 
 best father, companion, and friend that ever was." 
 
 Hyde soon after made a less useful acquaintance, and 
 one whose unhappy influence led to the chief errors 
 of his future career. Archbishop Laud was now 
 endeavoring to engage the court and the nobility in 
 forcing his own narrow and bigoted opinions upon 
 the people. His chief aim seems to have been to 
 intimidate, and, if possible, to extirpate the Puritans, a 
 sect who he declared, if not suppressed, would one day 
 " set the kingdom in a flame." Instead of seeking to 
 guide and soften the violence of the new Reformers, 
 Laud excited their zeal to madness by bringing their 
 leaders to the pillory and the jail ; he endeavored to 
 exalt the power of the church to a height to which it 
 had never before aspired, and enforced unity of doc-' 
 trine with a pitiless and unsparing severity. Yet Laud, 
 in all matters except church government, was honest, 
 laborious, and prudent. Having lately been appointed 
 a commissioner of the treasury, he was desirous to 
 
196 HIS BUSINESS INCREASES. 
 
 qualify himself for the place by proper inquiries into 
 the laws of trade. Hyde, already much employed by 
 the merchants, was introduced by an eminent member 
 of that body to Laud, as a man well versed in mercan- 
 tile affairs. The archbishop, pleased with his peculiar 
 mental qualities, and probably with the rigidness of his 
 doctrinal opinions, became his patron and constant sup- 
 porter, and so recommended him to the judges of 
 Westminster, that Hyde gained speedily what in that 
 day was the chief reliance of the lawyer, the favor of 
 the bench. 
 
 Business now came in upon him rapidly. He was one 
 of the most successful practitioners at the bar; his 
 acquaintance enlarged ; and he became known not only 
 to many of the highest nobility, but to all who were 
 eminent in letters. 
 
 In the midst of an extending practice, Hyde could not 
 consent to deny himself the pleasures of literary society, 
 and he delights, in his memoirs, to dwell upon those 
 happy hours when, withdrawing from the labors of his 
 profession, he stole a brief enjoyment in the company of 
 the gifted writers of the time. He describes with minute 
 and fond attention the various characters of that brilliant 
 circle in which he rejoiced to think himself "the worst 
 man in the company." Just at the opening of the first 
 revolution, England possessed a literary society well 
 worthy of the exultation of Clarendon, and its eminent 
 members were in the habit of meeting frequently, before 
 the discords of party severed and destroyed it. 
 
mS LITERARY FRIENDS. 197 
 
 With Ben Jonson, the severe and classical reformer 
 of the stage, Hyde was intimate for many years. The 
 learned bricklayer constantly formed one of the favored 
 circle that met for mutual pleasure and improvement. 
 There, too, came the pure and gentlemanly Selden, 
 acquainted with all literature, and familiar with the 
 usages of courts, gifted with delightful powers of conver- 
 sation, and although inclining to republicanism, yet 
 never losing his regard for his royalist companions. 
 There came Cotton, learned and polite, but falling at 
 last into sensual indulgences, to the great grief of all who 
 knew him. There was Yaughan, rough, haughty, inso- 
 lent, and a republican. There was Sir Kenelm Digby, 
 graceful, beautiful, dissolute, and brave. There came the 
 modest and timid May, the translator of Lucan, who, 
 from a favorite of Charles I. and his foreign queen, 
 became the historian of the rebel Parliament, and whose 
 ashes, at the Restoration, were taken from their resting- 
 place in Westminster to be flung into a pit at St. Mar- 
 garet's. Clarendon, in his memoirs and his history, lin- 
 gers with delight over the memory of these eminent 
 men, the companions of his youth ; paints with delicacy 
 and enthusiasm their noble qualities ; surveys with gene- 
 rous forbearance their peculiar faults ; and rises almost 
 to the eloquence of a great author, in the ardor of love 
 and admiration with which he records their characters 
 and their fate. 
 
 In such society, and in the diligent pursuit of his pro- 
 fession, the life of the young lawyer passed calmly on- 
 
198 THE PROSPERITY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 ward, while around him everything seemed to promise 
 a continuance of prosperity. His country was advancing 
 in wealth and was yet in perfect repose, while almost 
 every other portion of Europe was disturbed by civil 
 convulsions or desolating wars. E"o monarch of his time 
 seemed so blest as Charles I. From his secure retreat 
 he could look out upon the convulsions which ravaged 
 the continent as the landsman from a promontory beholds 
 a storm and a shipwreck at sea. His kingdom was rich 
 and thriving ; its commerce was spreading over every 
 sea, and its plantations in the New World, so lately added 
 to its dominion, seemed to promise an unbounded 
 increase of power. "Who could foresee," exclaims 
 Clarendon, as he recalls that happy period, " who could 
 foresee the storm that must soon blast the glory and 
 beauty of England." 
 
 It was more remarkable that he himself did not per- 
 ceive the greater danger that hung over England in this 
 moment of boasted tranquillity ; that he did not see in 
 the cruel oppression of the Star Chamber, and in the 
 avowed purposes of the king, the progress of a tyranny 
 which must soon reduce Englishmen to the condition of 
 continental serfs. But honest loyalty blinded him to the 
 faults of his master. So long as the king was safe and 
 the church omnipotent, Clarendon believed that the 
 rights of his countrymen were secure. 
 
 His honest intellect could never penetrate the false 
 and unsettled characters of the Stuarts. He believed 
 Charles I. to be a man of honor when he had repeatedly 
 
CHAELES CALLS A PAKLIAMENT. 199 
 
 broken his pledges to liis people, and had practically 
 asserted the principles that kings were bound by no 
 oaths which they had taken to their subjects. Nor was 
 he yet convinced of his faithlessness when the king had 
 sacrificed his old friend, Stafford, to the rage of Parlia- 
 ment, and suffered him to be condemned for faults of 
 which he alone was guilty. To the false and frivolous 
 nature of Charles II. Clarendon was equally blind. He 
 evidently wasted his sincere love and loyalty upon that 
 most selfish and heartless of princes ; and even' when he 
 had himself fallen before the treachery of Charles, and 
 was expiating in undeserved exile, like a second Stafford, 
 the crimes of his master, Clarendon forbears to utter a 
 word of reproach against the king, who had repaid the 
 long services of his life with such selfish ingratitude. 
 
 In 1640, Charles I. was forced to call a Parliament, 
 when the nation was already excited by the progress 
 of Puritanism and by a secret dread of the purposes of 
 the court. It sat for a few weeks in the spring of that 
 year and was then hastily dissolved. In this Parliament 
 Hyde was elected from two boroughs. He began his 
 political career a reformer. He attacked the Earl Mar- 
 shal's Court, in which were tried all offences against the 
 privileges of the nobility, and which had become an 
 instrument of great injustice and oppression. His influ- 
 ence in Parliament was extensive ; he sat upon seven 
 committees during its continuance, and was noted for 
 his industry and activity. 
 
 The " short Parliament" was followed by that famous 
 
200 THE LONG PARLIAMENT. 
 
 assembly winch established the liberties of England and 
 America. A new Parliament was summoned for 
 November 4, the same year the author of the revolu- 
 tion. Hyde was one of its most active members. He 
 resumed his attacks upon the abuses of the government, 
 and gained an extensive influence ; but he soon betrayed 
 his peculiar hostility to any thing that might touch the 
 interests of the crown or the church. Living by his 
 fortune and his practice, no man could question his 
 honesty or rank him among the pensioned supporters of 
 the court. Yet he was, from the first, distrusted by the 
 reformers. He was the friend of Laud and was known 
 to entertain some of his extreme opinions. He was an 
 open friend to royalty, in opposition to those republican 
 tendencies which were already advancing among the 
 people. The republicans made frequent efforts to gain 
 him to their extreme measures, but when they found 
 him immovable endeavored to arouse a general preju- 
 dice against him, and even sought to invalidate his 
 election. Hyde, however, was still much employed in 
 the business of the House, and sat as chairman upon 
 many committees. 
 
 While presiding upon one of these occasions he gave, 
 as he believed, inexpiable offence to Oliver Cromwell, 
 who was present at the hearing, by the sternness with 
 which he rebuked the violence of certain republican 
 witnesses. When anything was urged that displeased 
 them, the witnesses grew clamorous and insolent, so that 
 Hyde was obliged to reprove them sharply. Cromwell 
 
FALKLAND. 201 
 
 immediately accused the chairman of partiality, and 
 became so violent and insulting that Hyde told him, if 
 he proceeded in this manner, he would dissolve the 
 committee. Crom^ ell never forgave the offence. 
 
 As the times grew more alarming, Hyde gave up his 
 professional business to devote all his attention to the 
 interests of his country. When, not content with attack- 
 ing abuses, the reformers began, as he believed, an 
 attempt to tear down the church and the monarchy, he 
 became the most resolute of their opponents. Their 
 leaders endeavored, by every art, to win him to their 
 side, and when they failed, marked him out for their 
 peculiar hostility. 
 
 Hyde had now formed an intimate friendship with 
 Lucius Gary, Lord Falkland. That pure and gifted 
 character had won his deepest regard. Late in life, 
 when age might have dulled his enthusiasm, Clarendon 
 could only speak of his friend as "that incomparable 
 young man." He was in fact " incomparable," for no 
 parallel can be found for him in all the history of the 
 time. Born to a large fortune, he had devoted himself 
 to severe |Judy, so that by his twenty-third year he had 
 read all the Greek and Latin fathers. He married, at 
 an early age, a lady who had only worth and intelligence 
 for her dowry, in preference to a wealthier one, who 
 was pressed upon him by his father. The father was 
 dissolute and extravagant. When Falkland discovered 
 that his parent was involved in debt by his own follies, 
 he offered to give up to him the whole family estates, 
 
202 IIIS CIIAKACTEE. 
 
 winch had been settled upon him by his grandfather's 
 bequest. He went abroad with his young wife, and 
 remained thus in studious exile, until his father died. 
 He returned to England Yiscount Falkland, but instead 
 of lingering amid the gaieties of London, immediately 
 withdrew to his rural estate. Here his house became 
 the resort of all the learned : his books, his fortune and 
 his company were ever at their service. Here Ben 
 Jonson was a constant visitor, with Chillingworth, the 
 great controversalist, and Hales, the learned professor, 
 from Oxford ; and here Clarendon delighted to steal 
 away from the ceaseless drudgery of business. 
 
 Falkland's character approached perfect goodness. 
 He was modest, generous, studious and refined. No 
 unchaste word ever passed his lips, no sarcasm ever 
 escaped him. Cheerful, composed and beneficent, he 
 spread happiness around him. Many were his secret 
 benefactions to indigent poets and suffering wits ; and 
 no one could do more than guess at the extent of his 
 generosity. Yet all this nobility of feeling and eleva- 
 tion of nature was concealed under a most unattractive 
 exterior. Falkland was small and plain, w^jpi a boyish 
 look, and eyes of singular brightness. As a speaker he 
 was ungraceful, his voice harsh, and his appearance un- 
 imposing ; but when he grew warm in debate the fire 
 of his eyes and the clearness of his reasoning made 
 amends for all deficiencies. 
 
 The first note of the revolution had aroused Falk- 
 land from his literary seclusioD. He entered Parlia- 
 
HYDE'S STEADY LOYALTY 203 
 
 ment, and, like Clarendon, began his career a reformer. 
 But, with Clarendon, he soon recoiled from the excesses 
 of the republicans. He was a friend to church and 
 king ; one of the most eminent of the opposers of the 
 republican faction. 
 
 But as the political disputes grew fiercer, Falkland's 
 friends observed that a great change had taken place 
 within him. He, who had once been all cheerfulness 
 and hope, was now become gloomy, sad, and desponding. 
 He grew negligent of his dress, and careless of appear- 
 ances, and even his books failed to win him from his 
 melancholy. His heart was evidently grieving hope- 
 lessly over the troubles of his country : his own posi- 
 tion dissatisfied and annoyed him. Opposed to the 
 rebellious Parliament, he was yet hardly more at home 
 by the side of the king. More discerning than Claren- 
 don, he perceived early the faithlessness of the court, as 
 well as the lawlessness of the people, and he feared that 
 the success of either must be equally fatal to England. 
 His hopeless anxiety was terminated by an early death. 
 He fell ut Newbury, one of the first victims of the 
 revolution. 
 
 Hyde's steady loyalty soon won for him the con- 
 fidence of the court. When the Parliament published 
 their " Remonstrance of the State of the Nation," Hyde 
 drew up an answer, which was seen by Lord Digby, 
 who carried it to the king. Charles directed it to be 
 published ; and soon after he selected Hyde, with Falk- 
 land and Colpepper, another zealous loyalist, to become 
 
204: HE JOINS THE KING AT YORK. 
 
 Ins most trusted advisers. He desired them to meet 
 frequently to consult upon his affairs, and promised to 
 do nothing without their approval. His promise, of 
 course, was soon broken. Yet the three friends con- 
 tinued to meet at Hyde's house, which was now become 
 the chosen resort of all who were well affected to the 
 king. Hyde, now an avowed leader of the loyalists, 
 had drawn upon himself the peculiar hatred of the 
 Commons. "When the king fled to York, to raise the 
 royal standard, Hyde remained in London until he 
 heard that his enemies were about to arrest him for 
 having given evil counsel to the king: he then went 
 down into the country as if for a little recreation, and 
 when the Parliament sent orders to him to return, fled 
 to the royal camp. The king received him with uncom- 
 mon distinction; bade him welcome to York, and 
 treated him rather as a friend than a subject. "When 
 the commissioners arrived from the Commons, to sum- 
 mon him to London, Hyde told them he would come 
 when the king gave him leave. The Commons, in 
 return, excluded him from their offers of mercy. 
 
 York was now filled with the court, the gentry, and 
 the royalists who had fled from Parliament. King, 
 nobles, and commons mingled together in unceremoni- 
 ous freedom. " Ned Hyde," as Charles familiarly 
 called him, was in high favor and employment. He 
 was constantly busy with pen, speech, and personal 
 influence, in strengthening the royal cause. The king 
 became so familiar with his writings, that one day he 
 
HE REFUSES OFFICE. 205 
 
 laid a wager of an angel with Falkland, that he could 
 discover Hyde's peculiar style among a thousand. A 
 short time after, Falkland brought to Charles a speech, 
 professedly written by Lord Pembroke. The king read 
 it with delight. He had not thought, he said, that Lord 
 Pembroke could have written so well. But he had lost 
 his angel. The speech was written by Hyde. 
 
 Meantime, several offices of trust and honor were 
 offered to him, but for preferment he showed little anxi- 
 ety. He declined the post of Secretary of State, out of 
 regard to a friend whom he thought more worthy of it 
 than himself. The king, however, continued to press 
 him to take office, and he at last consented to become 
 Chancellor of the Exchequer, was sworn of the Privy 
 Council, and knighted. In office he was active, labori- 
 ous, and wise, and had he been taken earlier into the 
 Councils of his king, might have saved England much 
 bloodshed and many misfortunes. 
 
 The civil war began. After a long interval of tran- 
 quillity, Englishmen once more learned to stain their 
 hands with each other's blood. London became an 
 armed fortress, the centre of sedition. Old Elizabethan 
 mansions, the scene of family enjoyment and domestic 
 peace, were fortified, attacked, defended, riddled with 
 bullets and blackened with fire. Brave English matrons 
 summoned their servants about them, and beat off rebel 
 assailants from their dwellings, as if they had long 
 practice in the terrors of war. And all over the island, 
 cavaliers, with blood-stained swords, swept by startled 
 
206 IS MADE ONE OF THE GUARDIANS. 
 
 cottages, and troops of iron-clad roundheads marched 
 through green lanes and quiet neighborhoods, in pursuit 
 of their vanquished foe. 
 
 From the first Hyde and Falkland had no hope for 
 the king. They believed him doomed. They saw that 
 he had entered upon a contest from which Henry VHI. 
 and the great Elizabeth had shrunk back in just alarm. 
 But they clung to his cause with pity and devotion. 
 Amid all the reverses of the royalists, Hyde preserved 
 an uncbanging cheerfulness. However sunk and de- 
 sponding might be his spirit, his countenance remained 
 ever serene. He stood by his beloved king with the 
 firmness of a loving heart. Step by step the cautious 
 parliamentarians won their way to victory. Early in 
 the conflict, at the battle of E~ewbury, Hyde lost his 
 incomparable Falkland, and one by one, that gallant 
 circle which had assembled, full of ardor and loyalty, at 
 York, was lessened by the bullets of the foe. At Naseby 
 all was lost. Hyde was selected, with Lords Capel and 
 Ilopton, to take charge of the youthful prince. He 
 parted from his master Charles I. with sorrow and 
 despair, yet ignorant that that venerated head must be 
 laid upon the scaffold. There is something unusually 
 touching in the fervent admiration and love with which 
 he always regarded his erring king. 
 
 He went with Prince Charles, then fourteen years of 
 age, to Bristol, and thence, after the battle of ISTaseby, 
 carried him into the isle of Jersey. Queen Henrietta, 
 who had never been well disposed towards Hyde, now 
 
ARTHUK, LOKD CAPEL. 207 
 
 summoned the prince to Paris, while Capel, Hopton, 
 and Clarendon remained for a time in Jersey. They 
 took a house in St. Hilary, the chief town in the island, 
 and here Hyde returned to the studies of his youth. 
 He commenced his history of the Rebellion, and wrote 
 various pieces in defence of the royalist cause against 
 the triumphant Parliament. The three friends lived 
 together in perfect concord. Their simple fare satisfied 
 their moderate desires. They amused themselves with 
 books, rural amusement, and morning walks along the 
 sands. 
 
 The character of Arthur, Lord Capel, has lately been 
 gracefully delineated by his descendant, Lady Theresa 
 Lewis. He was one of those noble natures that are 
 sometimes brought into bold relief amid great civil 
 convulsions. His form was almost gigantic in size, his 
 appearance fine and commanding. Born of a wealthy 
 country family, he sat in the Long Parliament and at 
 first opposed the measures of the crown. Soon, how- 
 ever, when the designs of each party became apparent, 
 he left the republicans to take his place among the 
 firmest supporters of the king. His loyalty and self- 
 sacrificing devotion to Charles were conspicuous even 
 among the many examples of these qualities for which 
 that period is remarkable. When the rebel forces, 
 having seized Capel's young son, held him up before 
 their front ranks to check the ardor of his father, Capel 
 bade them murder his son, for that Heaven would 
 avenge him. And he attacked the enemy as if no 
 obstacle intervened. 
 
208 HYDE IN THE ISLE OF JERSEY. 
 
 The society of the exiles was soon broken up. Capel 
 having ventured to pass over into England to engage in 
 an enterprise against the enemy, was taken prisoner at 
 Colchester, and for some time lay uncertain of his fate. 
 While in prison he heard that his master was con- 
 demned to death; the zealous loyalist immediately 
 wrote to Cromwell begging to be allowed to suffer in 
 his stead. Unmoved by such noble self-devotion, 
 Cromwell soon after caused Capel himself to be exe- 
 cuted ; when he was about to die he wrote to his wife 
 to be comforted, for that "more would celebrate his 
 name with praise than with sadness." 
 
 Lord Hopton having left Jersey, Hyde was alone. 
 He then went to live with Sir George Carteret, the 
 governor of the island, who received him with great 
 regard. His time passed pleasantly among his books, 
 although his poverty was so great that he was unable 
 to send for his wife and children. It was, however, one 
 of the happiest periods of his life. Ten hours each day 
 he passed in study, and daily wrote a full sheet. The 
 fame of his history reached King Charles in prison, and 
 it was an evident satisfaction to him, in the gloomy 
 close of his life, that his name and memory were to be 
 preserved to posterity by the pen of his devoted servant. 
 The king wrote to Hyde to thank him for his promised 
 work, and offered to send him some important par- 
 ticulars in his own hand, particularly those that had 
 happened since they parted. 
 
 In 1648, Hyde was aroused from his seclusion by a 
 summons from the Queen Henrietta to attend her son 
 
DISSENSIONS AMONG THE EXILES. 209 
 
 Prince Charles at Paris. He immediately hastened to 
 France, but found the prince gone to Holland. Hyde, 
 with several royalist companies, set sail for that 
 country; their ship was seized on its passage by an 
 Ostend privateer, and the adventurers made no scruple 
 to seize upon the property and jewels of the exiles, the 
 last relics of their decayed fortunes. Hyde thought 
 himself happy in being able to recover, by the inter- 
 vention of the magistrate of Ostend, his private papers 
 and manuscripts, which he valued more than all his 
 possessions. 
 
 Dejected, poor, and disunited, the exiles gathered 
 around their prince at the Hague. Violent dissensions 
 were already raging amongst them. Prince Rupert 
 hated Colpepper, and was not friendly towards Hyde. 
 The character of the young prince, too, was unpromis- 
 ing. He had none of the grave dignity and apparent 
 virtue which threw a veil over the faults of his father. 
 Good-natured, brave, but licentious, unprincipled, and 
 self-indulgent, he seemed little likely to conquer back 
 his kingdom. One hope alone cheered the fallen spirits 
 of the exiles : they believed that the Commons must 
 yet relent towards their imprisoned king, and that the 
 interest and the quiet of England would finally enforce 
 his restoration. This hope was now suddenly quenched 
 for ever. News came to the Hague that his majesty 
 the king had been executed like a traitor upon the 
 scaffold. The royalists were filled with horror and 
 despair. In their view the nation had committed an 
 
210 IIYDE IN SPAIN. 
 
 inexpiable crime ; their countrymen were parricides. 
 And for themselves, after their first grief and indigna- 
 tion were over, they ceased to hope. 
 
 Lord Cottington and Hyde were sent in 1649 as am- 
 bassadors to Spain from the wandering and dethroned 
 Charles II. They could hardly look for a flattering 
 reception in a kingdom which was already trembling 
 before the energy and fame of Cromwell. Upon their 
 arrival, they were treated with little ceremony. No 
 public notice was taken of their entry into Madrid, and 
 they were studiously overlooked. Hyde, however, was 
 charmed with the stately manners and graceful sports 
 of the Spaniards, their Moorish games of horsemanship, 
 and even their bull-fights, of which he has left in his 
 memoirs, a striking description. In Spain too, he 
 learned to value art. In the galleries of the Escurial he 
 became familiar with the masters of the Spanish school, 
 and studied at leisure the works of Murillo and Yelas- 
 quez. In after life, this passion was to revive with 
 new force, and to give birth to the famous Clarendon 
 Gallery. 
 
 Neglected by the Spanish government, and almost 
 moneyless, Hyde remained unnoticed at Madrid, study- 
 ing the manners and policy of the people among whom 
 he was thrown. He had perfect leisure. The ministry 
 scarcely noticed him, except when at rare intervals a 
 hope of success once more dawned upon the royalists. 
 When Charles II. entered Scotland, with some prospects 
 of advantages, his ambassadors were treated with more 
 
HIS POVERTY. 211 
 
 regard ; after his defeat at Worcester they were ordered 
 to leave Spain. Hyde set out for Paris, in such distress 
 that he had hardly money sufficient to pay for his daily 
 food. He paused, however, to visit the chief cities of 
 Spain and its eminent seats of learning. His mind in 
 the lowest stages of his fortunes, never ceased to gather 
 information. At Paris he found the royal family 
 divided, by constant disputes ; the Queen Henrietta was 
 displeased with the Duke of York, who was dependent 
 upon her bounty for his support : and for Hyde she had 
 never anything but enmity : the king too, was in Scot- 
 land hiding from his pursuers, and to complete the 
 gloom which hung over the prospects of the royalists, a 
 rumor had arrived of his death. 
 
 Soon after, Hyde with his wife and family went to 
 reside at Antwerp. They were reduced to want. 
 Hardly could he provide them with the common neces- 
 saries of life. For himself, although he was often with- 
 out money to buy suitable clothing, or fuel to defend 
 himself against the inclemency of the winter, and was 
 often forced to give up his pen because his fingers 
 became numbed with cold, yet all this might easily 
 have been borne for the sake of his king and his princi- 
 ples ; but the condition of his poor family, he tells one 
 of his correspondents, wrings his heart. In his distress 
 he took refuge with his old comforters his books and 
 his companions. At Antwerp he found a friend who 
 must have recalled the memory of Falkland. Sir 
 Charles Cavendish, deformed, little, and repulsive to 
 
212 THE RESTORATION. 
 
 look upon, had merit, genius, learning and courage suffi- 
 cient to make him renowned. He corresponded upon 
 scientific subjects with Descartes and Gassendi. He 
 had fought by the side of his brother, the Marquis of 
 Newcastle, in the fiercest battles of the civil wars, and 
 Clarendon ever remembered him as one of the most 
 gifted of that long succession of remarkable friends who 
 had secured his lasting regard. 
 
 An important circumstance now occurred. To relieve 
 Clarendon's extreme poverty, his daughter Anne was 
 invited into the service of the princess royal. Hyde 
 asserts that he opposed this appointment and yielded 
 reluctantly to the advice of his friends. Through this 
 connection with the princesses' court, Anne was thrown 
 into the society of the Duke of York, to whom she was 
 privately married. 
 
 Years of exile, poverty and despair were now to be 
 atoned for by a sudden change of fortune. It was the 
 Restoration. Cromwell had died, and no man in Eng- 
 land could fill the place of the Puritan despot. In their 
 anxiety and alarm the people could see no other mode 
 of preserving the quiet of their country than to summon 
 back their dissolute king and his train of wild cavaliers. 
 They came back to their native land reeking with foreign 
 vices and estranged from the habits of Englishmen. 
 In England an austerity of morals prevailed such as had 
 no parallel in history. The play-houses were shut, the 
 haunts of dissipation had been purged by the zealous 
 scrutiny of the Puritans, and in all, save politics, the 
 
ANNE HYDE, DUTCIIESS OF YORK. 213 
 
 decalogue was the law of the land. Suddenly, the bois- 
 terous cavaliers and their dissolute king broke in upon 
 this grave and austere nation, preparing in the midst of 
 the joyous welcome they received from their country- 
 men, the destruction of the national religion and the 
 ruin of the national faith. 
 
 Hyde, the purest of the new king's advisers, obtained 
 at first the consideration which his faithful services had 
 deserved. He was made lord chancellor and the head 
 of the ministry, and for some time possessed the entire 
 confidence of his master. He was, however, never eager 
 for titles or wealth, and while Monk was made Duke 
 of Albemarle, and Montague an earl, he persisted in 
 refusing promotion. But an event soon occurred which 
 forced him to distinguish himself by titles suitable to his 
 high position, since he was now become father-in-law to 
 the Duke of York. 
 
 Anne Hyde, unattractive in person and gifted only 
 with plain common sense, had fixed the affections of the 
 duke ; in the ardor of his passion he had either entered 
 into a contract of marriage or was even married to her 
 in private. When their secret could no longer be con- 
 cealed, Anne claimed with violence the performance of 
 his promise. The duke yielded to her entreaties, and 
 went to the king to ask his consent to their marriage. 
 Charles, at first willing to consent, partly, it is to be 
 hoped, from consideration for his father's friend, sent 
 the Duke of Ormond and the Earl of Southampton to 
 break the matter to the chancellor. The astonished 
 
214: THE QUEEN -MOTHER OPPO3KS THE MARRIAGE. 
 
 father listened with shame and indignation to their 
 relation ; he broke into violent reproaches against his 
 daughter, he cried ont that she must be sent a prisoner 
 to the Tower, and declared that he would be the first to 
 counsel her execution for the offence. His friends 
 hinted that she might already be married to the duke, 
 but the chancellor replied that then her guilt was greater 
 than before. At this moment Charles himself came into 
 the room and found his old servant and guardian weep- 
 ing. The king with his facile good nature endeavored 
 to console him by promising that the duke should make 
 her his wife. 
 
 This event necessarily drew the attention of the court 
 and the whole royal family. The queen-mother, always 
 a bitter enemy to the chancellor, no sooner heard of the 
 intended marriage than she hastened into England to 
 interfere. She pressed the duke not to dishonor his 
 royal blood by an ignoble connection. She even won 
 the fickle Charles to forget his promise to his ancient 
 friend ; and when, at her instigation, some of the chan- 
 cellor's enemies devised a false tale, which they swore 
 to be true, that his daughter's honor had been tainted 
 before she had met the duke, even James himself began 
 to waver. But afflictions now fell upon the royal family 
 the Duke of Gloucester and the princess royal, the 
 next heirs to the crown, died of small pox, and James, 
 obstinate in love as in faith and politics, grew melancholy 
 and gave up his usual amusements. The contrivers of 
 the plot against Anne's fair fame now confessed their 
 
CLARENDON'S UNPOPULARITY. 215 
 
 perjury ; even the queen-mother herself finally yielded, 
 and the chancellor's daughter was at length made 
 Dutchess of York. 
 
 He was immediately made a baron, and in 1661, at 
 the coronation, became Earl of Clarendon. The king 
 presented him with 20,000, to enable him to support 
 his honors decently ; and offered him a grant of ten 
 thousand acres of land, which he refused. 
 
 It is remarkable, that Clarendon, the wisest and 
 purest of the returned cavaliers, should so speedily 
 have become the most unpopular of them all. He 
 offended at once three great parties. The royalists he 
 displeased by his bill of Indemnity, which, while it re- 
 called all gifts or sales of property by the rebel govern- 
 ment, made no provision for the cases of those royalists 
 who had sold their estates for a small sum, in order to 
 send the money to the king ; and provided no compen- 
 sation for those who had been ruined by their steady loy- 
 alty. By the enraged cavaliers it was called " an act of 
 indemnity for the king's enemies and of oblivion to his 
 friends." Clarendon, too, awakened a bitter hostility 
 among low churchmen and dissenters by his " act of Uni- 
 formity," which compelled every clergyman to subscribe 
 to the forms of the Church of England, or be expelled 
 from his living. Two thousand clergymen were by this 
 sudden and illiberal measure driven from their homes, 
 and deprived of all support. Another act passed by 
 his influence imposed a fine upon every conventicle 
 or private assembly for religious worship, where more 
 
216 ITS CAUSES. 
 
 than five besides the family should be present ; and he 
 completed his unpopularity by a cruel law, which for- 
 bade the expelled clergy from coming within five miles 
 of their former parish : he would not only take away 
 their bread, but must sever for ever their connection 
 with their former homes. The only consolation the 
 dissenters could have in their affliction was, that the 
 laws against the Romanists were enforced as strictly as 
 those against themselves. 
 
 Other circumstances served to render Clarendon un- 
 popular among his countrymen. "No sooner had the 
 first joy of the Restoration subsided, than the nation 
 began to perceive that all those promises of religious 
 and political liberality which had been so readily given 
 by the king and the court, were little to be relied upon, 
 They found the king scarcely less inclined to arbitrary 
 measures than had been his tyrannical father : they 
 believed that he was secretly a Romanist, resolved to 
 restore the old religion by slow and gradual meas- 
 ures ; they were shocked at his licentious manners ; the 
 dissolute character of his courtiers; the little regard 
 that w T as paid in all the measures of the court to the 
 interest and glory of England ; and in the violence of 
 the reaction they visited the chief part of their dis- 
 pleasure and indignation upon the king's adviser and 
 chief minister, the chancellor. Clarendon's manners too 
 had never been conciliatory. Even in youth he never so 
 far overcame his stately reserve, as to mingle familiarly 
 with the members of his own profession; and as he 
 
THE CLARENDON GALLEKY. 217 
 
 grew older this indifference to popular favor increased. 
 He made no attempt to win the regard of those young 
 men of talent who were rising at the bar or in Parlia- 
 ment ; and when his old friends one by one had died, he 
 was left almost alone in friendless grandeur. 
 
 Even his fine taste in architecture and painting con- 
 tributed to his ruin. He laid, in 1664, the foundations 
 of a palace in Piccadilly, London, which was to surpass 
 the splendors of Whitehall. This unfortunate undertak- 
 ing, which he prosecuted with great ardor, finally 
 exhausted his fortune and covered him with popular 
 odium. In the midst of national disgrace and national 
 misfortunes the vast pile slowly ascended. Before it 
 was completed its master was an exile. 
 
 The ornament and the shame of the new palace was 
 its gallery of paintings. It was designed to contain 
 portraits of all Englishmen, who had become renowned 
 either for genius or station. There were seen the old 
 nobility of the Tudor times and the new aristocracy of 
 his own there were famous poets, eminent lawyers, and 
 worthy divines : and there were arrayed the various cos- 
 tumes of Englishmen since the middle ages, their 
 armor, decorations, and robes of state. The design was 
 certainly an excellent one, and has found many imita- 
 tors ; it preceded and perhaps suggested the gallery of 
 Versailles, of Windsor, of Florence, and of the Walhalla. 
 
 But it was whispered by the enemies of the chancellor 
 in the court and the city, that his fine gallery was made 
 up from the spoils of ruined royalists ; that many of the 
 
 10 
 
218 FATE OF THE PALACE AND GALLERY. 
 
 pictures had been purchased at low rates from rebels 
 who had ravished them from their loyal owners ; and 
 that others were presents from needy suitors for court 
 favor. Clarendon's passion for art was no sooner known 
 than many distressed royalists hastened to offer him the 
 wreck of their galleries, and it is not denied that in 
 many instances he accepted these melancholy gifts. 
 
 This palace, once so magnificent, has left behind it no 
 vestige but the name. On its owner's death it was sold 
 to the Duke of Albemarle, who again conveyed it to 
 Sir Thomas Bond. A hotel, the Clarendon, famous for 
 its excellent cookery, now occupies its site, and is said 
 to contain a few fragments of the old walls. The gal- 
 lery was equally unfortunate. "When the palace was 
 sold, the pictures were removed to Cornbury in Oxford- 
 shire. Here a portion of them, comprising many full- 
 length portraits, was sold by the second earl for twelve 
 hundred pounds. The third earl, a spendthrift, who lay 
 for some time in E"ew York jail for debt, after he had 
 ceased to be governor of the province, aided in dimi- 
 nishing it. Next it fell into chancery, and the Duchess 
 of Queensberry claimed and obtained a moiety of the 
 pictures which were removed to Bothwell Castle on the 
 Clyde. The remainder of this famous collection were 
 preserved at the Grove, Hertfordshire, by the family 
 of the chancellor, and have lately been brought to the 
 notice of the public by a gifted descendant of the earls 
 of Clarendon and Essex.* 
 
 * Lady Theresa Lewis. 
 
HIS FRIEND EVELYN. 219 
 
 In the sale of his house the chancellor's papers also 
 suffered greatly. More than a thousand letters were 
 parted with by the second earl in discharge of his debts. 
 A portion of them were purchased for Oxford, and 
 finally. Lord Hyde bequeathed the remainder to that 
 university, directing that they should be published and 
 the profits be applied to found a riding-school. 
 
 Clarendon, meanwhile, apparently unconscious of the 
 dislike of his countrymen, amused his leisure by urging 
 on the completion of his palace and his gallery. He 
 was also engaged in improving his house at Cornbury. 
 Evelyn, who had made his acquaintance abroad, while 
 both were exiles, visited him frequently, and aided, 
 by his taste and learning, in the arrangement of his 
 pictures and the decoration of the palace. The amiable 
 temper of Evelyn, his unaffected piety, and active 
 inquiring mind, had strong attractions for Clarendon. 
 He reminded him perhaps of that pleasant circle in 
 w r hich he had mingled before the rebellion, and called 
 up anew the loved Falkland, the austere Jonson, the 
 learned Chillingworth and Hales. He bought no pic- 
 tures without consulting Evelyn : Evelyn went down 
 to Cornbury to suggest improvements in the country 
 mansion, and Evelyn was almost the last person with 
 whom he conversed in England. 
 
 Clarendon was now at the height of his power. 
 Austere and dignified, the representative of an elder 
 and purer age, to the dissolute court around him he 
 became an object of envy and fear. He never con- 
 
220 HIS FALL DRAWS NEAK. 
 
 descended to join in their revels or to conform his 
 character to the modern vices, and he never hesitated 
 to show the contempt and disgust with which he 
 regarded that general licentiousness which had infected 
 the higher ranks. In return for this open contempt the 
 courtiers plotted against him in secret, and mimicked his 
 stately manner and long moral lessons for the entertain- 
 ment of the king. A favorite amusement of Charles was 
 to see Buckingham represent the chancellor. But as yet 
 Clarendon's power was unshaken. In council, among 
 the greatest lords of England, he spoke with a freedom 
 and decision that marked his superiority, a trait which 
 Mr. Samuel Pepys, who was at one of the sittings, pro- 
 nounced to be " mighty pretty." It was evident to all 
 that he was much elated by his prosperity. Naturally 
 fond of magnificence and worldly show, he had been 
 permitted to gratify his highest ambition, and for a 
 moment he yielded to the intoxication of success. 
 
 His fall, however, was now drawing near. Had he 
 sought to preserve the affection of Charles he might 
 have remained for life the greatest subject of England, 
 and it would have been easy by a ready compliance in 
 policy and religion for Clarendon to have maintained 
 his influence over the king. But, almost alone amid 
 his youthful peers, the chancellor possessed a good 
 heart and fixed principles, and these soon drew him 
 into opposition to the favorite measures of the king. 
 His first fault was the share which he took in the royal 
 marriage, and the generosity with which he defended 
 
HIS CHIEF CRIME. 221 
 
 the unfortunate queen from the persecution of her 
 estranged husband, and the insults of his favorite Lady 
 Castlemaine. 
 
 Still, however, this fault was pardonable ; for Charles 
 liked a bold spirit and was already tired of Lady 
 Castlemaine. Two motives of a far stronger character 
 led him to desire the fall of the chancellor. He was 
 fallen in love with Miss Stuart, one of the maids of 
 honor, and as he could not win her in any other man- 
 ner, was desirous of making her his queen. This 
 project Clarendon steadily opposed, and when Miss 
 Stuart was soon after privately married to the Duke of 
 Richmond, Charles, disappointed and enraged, believed 
 that the chancellor had hastened the marriage in order 
 to prevent the fulfillment of his own desires. Claren- 
 don, too, betrayed another fatal defect to the eyes ot 
 the king. He was a firm and decided Protestant. 
 Charles already a papist, who was concerting a plan for 
 restoring the ancient faith, perceived that the most 
 dangerous opponent of the scheme would be his own 
 chancellor. Disappointed love and religious zeal thus 
 conspired to steel the heart of the king against the 
 friend and guardian of his youth, and he was already 
 planning his ruin, when a sudden outbreak of the 
 popular dislike for the unfortunate minister made it 
 more than ever desirable to sacrifice him. 
 
 A series of events occurred the most lamentable that 
 have ever in the course of a single year fallen upon 
 England. The Plague destroyed more than a hundred 
 
222 THE PEOPLE INSULT THE CHANCELLOE. 
 
 thousand inhabitants in London alone. A fire, the 
 most destructive the world had known since the reign 
 of Nero, laid three-fourths of the metropolis in ashes, 
 and deprived two hundred thousand citizens of a home ; 
 and, in the moment of these domestic griefs, a hostile 
 fleet, for the first time since the invasion of the Danes, 
 sailed up the Thames, destroyed the English ships at 
 Chatham, and so alarmed the feeble advisers of Charles 
 that for a time they had resolved to abandon the 
 Tower and give up the capital of England to the foe. 
 
 The alarm of the Dutch invasion having soon passed 
 away, the court might have overlooked and forgotten it 
 entirely had not the insult to the national honor sunk 
 deep in the minds of the people. The citizens of London 
 assembled in crowds and clamored for vengeance upon 
 those advisers of the crown who had so nearly delivered 
 up the capital into the hands of a foreign invader. As, 
 the king passed through the streets they called out " a 
 Parliament, a Parliament." And it was plain that 
 nothing could appease the popular discontent but the 
 sacrifice of the unfortunate ministers. 
 
 The chief object of public hatred was the chancellor. 
 Though he had long ceased to possess any influence in 
 the council, and had ever opposed, to his own detriment, 
 the extravagance and carelessness of the king, Clarendon 
 was the victim for whose destruction the people clamored 
 incessantly. They affronted him in Westminster Hall 
 itself, when he sat at the trial of causes, by shouting 
 "Dunkirk House 1" they had seen with extreme disgust 
 
DEATH OF HIS GRANDCHILDREN. 223 
 
 his stately palace arising in splendor amid all the devas- 
 tations of the fire and the national losses upon the sea, 
 and it was a common rumor through the streets of 
 London, that the chancellor's house had been paid for 
 by the sale of Dunkirk. It was said, too, that his daugh- 
 ter, " Nan Hyde," had grown insolently proud since her 
 late rise in station ; that she was extravagant, vain and 
 selfish, and had already, by her wastefulness, involved 
 the duke deeply in debt. The people, to mark their 
 hatred for Clarendon, assembled in crowds before the new 
 palace, cut down the trees in front, broke his windows 
 with stones, and painted a gibbet upon his gate. They 
 cried out that he had undone the kingdom, that being 
 raised by his daughter's marriage above all fear of pun- 
 ishment, he had plunged the nation in ruin and disgrace. 
 In the midst of this popular odium another misfortune 
 befell him the two sons of the Dutchess of York were 
 seized with the small pox. "It was pretty," writes 
 Pepys, " to observe how, when my lord sent down to 
 St. James to see why the Duke of York came not, and 
 Mr. Poy who went returned, my lord did ask not how 
 the princes or the dukes do, as other people do, biit 
 'How do the children?' which methought was mighty 
 great and like a good man and a grandfather." The 
 two young dukes soon after died, to the sorrow of the 
 whole nation, which had already begun to look upon 
 them as its future rulers ; while Clarendon was thus 
 deprived of the influence he could naturally possess as 
 grandfather to the male heirs of the crown. 
 
224 HIS WIFE DIES. 
 
 Almost friendless in the midst of his grandeur, Cla- 
 rendon soon sunk before the blows of his enemies. His 
 misfortunes fell thickly upon him. His excellent wife, 
 the companion of thirty-five years of uncommon vicissi- 
 tudes, died in the commencement of his fall, and hardly 
 was he recovered from the first shock of his loss when 
 the king sent the Duke of York, on the 30th August, 
 16 $7, to demand the great seal. "Not satisfied with 
 depriving him of his office and of exposing him un- 
 guarded to his enemies, Charles, with his usual ingrati- 
 tude, took occasion to reflect upon the conduct of his 
 faithful servant in his speech to the new Parliament ; 
 and he thus lent his countenance to the impeachment 
 which the chancellor's enemies were preparing against 
 him. This impeachment was founded upon the most 
 frivolous and improbable charges. He was accused of 
 having advised the king to dissolve the Parliament and 
 to rely for support solely upon a standing army; of 
 having said that the king was a papist ; of betraying the 
 king's counsels to the enemy ; of selling offices, and of 
 having introduced arbitrary government into the Ameri- 
 can plantations. It was charged that he had advised 
 the sale of Dunkirk, and the Dutch war ; and, in fine, 
 that he had been the author of all those fatal measures 
 which had dishonored the reign of Charles H. 
 
 To all these accusations Clarendon simply replied by 
 the mouth of his son, Lord Cornbury, that if any one 
 of them was proved to be true, he would confess all the 
 rest. Conscious of perfect innocence, he felt that not 
 
HIS FRIENDS ADVISE HIM TO FLY. 
 
 a charge of all that were urged against him could be 
 sustained. His firmness alarmed the king and his ad- 
 visers. They felt that should he await his trial, the 
 real authors of the national calamities must be exposed. 
 They resolved, therefore, to drive him to a voluntary 
 exile. His friends, rendered anxious for his safety by 
 the arts and the threats of the court, advised him to fly 
 for a time abroad ; and when he resisted these well- 
 meant, but imprudent counsels, declaring that he would 
 not yield except to the express wishes of the king, 
 Charles sent him his commands to go. His confiding 
 loyalty, which would not suffer him to disobey the call 
 of his master, completed his ruin. Had he remained, 
 he must have triumphed over his enemies; but this 
 flight, contrived by his faithless king, served to spread 
 a general conviction of his guilt. 
 
 Evelyn, who visited him during his misfortunes, when 
 many who had been in the habit of courting his atten- 
 tion had deserted him, was with him the evening before 
 he fled. " I found him," he writes, " in the garden of 
 his new palace, sitting in his great wheel-chair, seeing 
 the gates setting up towards the north, and the fields ; 
 next morning I heard that he was gone, though I am 
 persuaded that had he gone sooner, though but to 
 Cornbury, and there lain quiet, it would have satisfied 
 Parliament. That which exasperated them was his 
 presuming to stay and contest the accusation as long as 
 'twas possible, and they were on the point of sending 
 him to the Tower." 
 
 10* 
 
HIS FLIGHT. 
 
 The chancellor's ruin, it is related, was planned and 
 carried out in the Lady Castlemaine's chamber. He 
 had deeply offended her by refusing to set the great 
 seal to a grant of land which the king would have 
 made her. When she heard that the seal had been 
 taken from him, and that he was about to leave Whitehall 
 degraded, she started out of bed, and rushed to the 
 window to witness his melancholy aspect. The king 
 had long been alienated from the chancellor, and used 
 to call him " that insolent man." Bab May, one of the 
 courtiers, when the great seal was brought to the king, 
 went down upon his knees to Charles, and congratu- 
 lated him that he could now be' called king of England. 
 But Charles, naturally penetrating, was not blind to the 
 real worth of the chancellor, and consented to sacrifice 
 him only because it was necessary to his personal ease. 
 Sir J. Gerard one day, to widen the breach between 
 them, told the king that the chancellor had said he was 
 " lazy, and not fit to govern." " Why," said the king, 
 " that is no news, for he has told me so twenty times to 
 my face." 
 
 On Saturday night, November 29th, 1667, Clarendon 
 set out from the new palace, now so nearly completed, 
 to his self-chosen exile. He was accompanied by his 
 two sons, some friends, and two servants. As he passed 
 for the last time through the stately halls, and threw a 
 parting glance upon his books and pictures, he little 
 thought that the most tranquil moments of his life were 
 yet to come. A boat was in waiting for him at the 
 
HE LEAVES AN ADDKES3 TO PARLIAMENT. 227 
 
 pier; and, after a weary passage of three days, lie 
 finally landed in France. 
 
 He left behind him an address to Parliament, defend- 
 ing his conduct, which was read in the House of Peers 
 by the Earl of Denbigh. He asserted in this paper 
 that he had never received a gratuity from any man, 
 and that he owed all his fortune to the bounty of the 
 king ; that he was in debt 20,000 ; that his income was 
 less than two thousand pounds a year; that he had 
 never possessed that influence over the king which the 
 country had attributed to him ; and he denied strenu- 
 ously the various charges which were alleged against 
 him in the articles of impeachment. This apology the 
 Parliament ordered to be burnt, and a sentence of 
 banishment was immediately passed against the author. 
 
 In the meantime Clarendon, having landed in France, 
 found himself exposed to mortifications and sufferings, 
 such as must have possessed peculiar bitterness to his 
 haughty spirit. The French government, at first dis- 
 posed to receive the distinguished exile with compas- 
 sionate attention, having formed a design of entering 
 into an alliance with England, resolved to propitiate the 
 people of that country by their harshness towards the 
 unpopular chancellor. Sick, poor and desponding, Clar- 
 endon hoped to find a resting-place at Rouen, to linger 
 out the term of his exile, and perhaps of his life ; but 
 he suddenly received orders from the court of Paris to 
 leave France immediately. He went to Calais, hoping 
 there to find a ship to carry him to Flanders or Spain ; 
 
228 HIS ADVENTURES AT EVREUX. 
 
 here, as he lay on a sick-bed, messengers arrived from 
 the French court directing him to leave the realm with- 
 out delay. His physician in vain urged that death 
 must be the result of obedience to this command : the 
 officers of the government told him that if he did not 
 go willingly, he must be carried by force. Fortunately, 
 however, a change took place in the designs of the 
 court, the alliance with England was abandoned ; and 
 Clarendon was finally permitted to go undisturbed wher- 
 ever he chose. 
 
 Hardly had this anxiety passed over before his life 
 was endangered by the violent hatred of his own 
 countrymen. A party of English seamen, drunken and 
 riotous, being at Evreux when the chancellor arrived 
 there, resolved to see him and demand of him their 
 back-pay, which they alleged was withheld from them 
 at his instigation. They flocked around the inn where 
 he lodged, burst open the gates, and rushing to the 
 chancellor's room, which had been barricaded against 
 them, broke open the door, and wounded a French 
 gentleman who was guarding the entrance. Clarendon 
 was in his gown, unable to stand, and sitting upon the 
 edge of the bed. One of the rioters aimed a blow at 
 him with a sword which fortunately struck him with 
 the flat part ; he was stunned, and fell fainting upon 
 the bed. They called him a traitor, and they threat- 
 ened that if he did not pay them their arrears, they 
 would carry him back to England. Some searched and 
 rifled his pockets, others pillaged his trunk and clothes. 
 
CLARENDON IN EXILE. 229 
 
 When lie awoke from his swoon, they dragged him 
 from the room into the open court and were about to 
 put him to death when the magistrates of the town 
 arrived in time to rescue him. The rioters were after- 
 ward seized, tried, and three of the most guilty were 
 broken on the wheel. 
 
 The remainder of Clarendon's exile was marked by 
 a pleasing tranquillity, in which he gradually forgot the 
 injustice of his countrymen and the neglect of his king. 
 He went first to Avignon, where he was received with 
 civility by all the chief personages of the place. 
 From thence he came to Montpellier, where in the close 
 of life he found happiness in composing his history. 
 He did not, however withdraw from society, and 
 received constant attention from the governor and the 
 nobility of the place", while all the English who passed 
 through Montpellier, came to visit the fallen chancellor 
 and to bring him tidings from England. He made 
 several applications both to Charles and James II. to be 
 permitted once more to see his native land before he 
 died, but all his solicitations were refused. Here at 
 Montpellier he wrote his " Reflections on the Psalms," 
 his answer to Hobbes's Leviathan, his vindication of his 
 own conduct, and here he completed his " History of 
 the Rebellion." 
 
 He died at Rouen, December, 1774, leaving four 
 sons and two daughters. His eldest daughter, the 
 Duchess of York, left two children, Mary, wife of 
 William of Orange, who ascended the throne of her 
 
230 HIS FAMILY. 
 
 exiled father, and Anne, the successor of Mary. His 
 second daughter married Sir Thomas Keightly, a knight 
 of the Bath. Of his sons, one was drowned at sea ; 
 Edward died a student at law in the Temple. His eldest 
 son, Henry, the inheritor of his titles, held several high 
 offices ; but the direct line of his descendants in the 
 third generation sank low in reputation and were deeply 
 involved in debt. The most talented of his children, 
 Laurence Hyde, Earl of Kochester, was conspicuous 
 during the reign of James II., William and Mary, and 
 Anne. He was impetuous, hasty, inclining to arbitrary 
 principles, and clung to the party of his connection, 
 James II., until he was dismissed from office because 
 he could not abandon his Protestant faith. The family 
 of the chancellor, so elevated by his good fortune and 
 worth, have taken their place among the historical 
 aristocracy of England, and an Earl of Clarendon is 
 still conspicuous among the leading politicians of the 
 conservative party. 
 
 Clarendon's literary position is not high. He had not 
 much learning and his style has few attractions. Ho 
 wrote with a full flow of language and a stately dignity 
 that pleased his contemporaries, but has long lost all 
 interest for the general reader. Rather a writer of 
 memoirs than an historian, his work wants method, 
 arrangement and taste. Some of his characters are 
 boldly drawn, and his evident fondness for literary men 
 renders him often exceedingly graceful and happy in 
 his delineation of their merits. But his attention to 
 
HIS CHAKACTEK. 231 
 
 public and professional affairs withdrew him too much 
 from those solitary labors necessary to the perfection of 
 the writer, and while aspiring to be an author, a lawyer 
 and a statesman, he failed to reach real eminence in 
 either profession. 
 
 In character he was pure, honorable and just. His 
 decisions as lord chancellor were always honestly given, 
 and were never tainted, like those of Bacon, by a sus- 
 picion of corruption. He w r as a tender son and a kind 
 husband and parent. His love of ostentation led him 
 into debt, but no one ever questioned his integrity. He 
 was a rigid churchman, loyal almost to passive obedience, 
 strict and stately in manners and conduct; but he wanted 
 chiefly more elevation of feeling and more liberality of 
 principle in politics and religion, to place him among 
 those who are of service to their generation and to 
 posterity. 
 
GILBERT BURNET, BISHOP OF SALISBURY. 
 
 POSTERITY has been no friend to Burnet, Bishop of 
 Salisbury. He has encountered the bitter hatred of 
 Swift, the calm contempt of Hume, and the more dis- 
 criminating severity of Mr. Macaulay. Swift hated 
 Burnet as a low-church bishop and a whig. He speaks 
 of his character and writings as equally contemptible. 
 " He is the worst qualified for an historian that I have 
 ever known," writes the angry dean. His history of 
 his own times to Swift was only a mass of fables. Its 
 secret narratives were only coffee-house scandals, its 
 observations were always mean and often false ; the 
 style was so full of vulgarisms that the author must 
 have kept low company in order to have learned them. 
 His language was certainly not English ; possibly it 
 might be Scotch ; the book was full of malice, misrepre- 
 sentation and vanity; it was indecent, it was full of bulls, 
 of silliness, and of foppishness, and words seem to fail in 
 expressing the contempt which Swift would lavish on 
 the unlucky history. In his opinion of Burnet's per- 
 sonal character, Swift was no less severe. He represents 
 
SEVERE STRICTURES ON HIS CHARACTER. 233 
 
 Burnet as being at nineteen a little Scotch parson, 
 affecting to be of importance; as having drawn in the 
 maiden daughter of a Scotch earl to marry him for his 
 youth and vigor, and as having risen through all the 
 stages of his successful life by means unworthy of an 
 honest and right-minded man. Swift was never mild 
 when he spoke of a whig and a low-churchman, and he 
 does not hesitate to call Burnet on several occasions " a 
 dog" and " a villain." 
 
 This unfavorable estimate of his character and wri- 
 tings is countenanced by the criticisms of Hume. He 
 ever calls Burnet poor authority, he speaks of him with 
 calm contempt, and sees in the ardent and honest pre- 
 late only a time-serving courtier and an intriguing dis- 
 sembler. 
 
 To Mr. Macaulay, Burnet is a purer but not a more 
 perfect conception. He paints him vain, meddling, 
 egotistical, and weak. He is despised by "William and 
 only endured by his friends. He does not doubt his 
 sincerity, yet he will not elevate him in our esteem; 
 and he passes over with slight notice these nobler quali- 
 ties, which have made Burnet worthy of the highest 
 respect and of lasting admiration. 
 
 But notwithstanding these unfavorable criticisms, 
 Burnet was the most famous and the most influential 
 prelate of his time. He was looked up to by the Pro- 
 testant interest of England as its champion and chief 
 support, against the secret plottings and open violence of 
 a proselyting court. His History of the Reformation in 
 
234: HIS TKUE POSITION. 
 
 England, received an honor that was never paid to any 
 other book. Its author was thanked by Parliament for 
 his able defence of Protestantism, and requested to con- 
 tinue it in another volume. The history became a joy 
 to English Protestants, an object of loathing to the 
 papist court. It spread all over Europe. It became 
 everywhere a great support to the reformers, and a 
 terror to its opponents. Burnet was admired at Rome 
 and at Paris as an honorable foe : at Geneva and Am- 
 sterdam as a defender of the faith. His other writings 
 were equally well received. His "Tour," his "Transla- 
 tion of Lactantius," and his political pamphlets were the 
 delight of his party and admired by all. The history 
 of his own times so decried by Swift and Hume has yet 
 been the chief authority for later authors. Hume has 
 made far greater use of it than he has cared to allow, 
 and the deeper researches of Mr. Macaulay have not 
 shaken its authority. It must still remain the best nar- 
 rative of those striking events that produced and accom- 
 panied the second English revolution. 
 
 Far from being an insignificant actor in these scenes, 
 Burnet was one of the most important men of his time. 
 His literary success and his active talents made him 
 conspicuous even in early youth. At twenty-three he 
 became the defender of the persecuted Presbyterians 
 against the tyrannical Scotch bishops. His conduct 
 was approved even by King Charles. Ten years after 
 he was driven out of Scotland as the head of a large and 
 dangerous party. Lauderdale accused him of being the 
 
HIS FAMILIARITY WITH KINGS AND COURTS. 235 
 
 cause of all the opposition. He fled to London. Here 
 he became the leader of the English Protestants. He 
 was forced again to fly from the frowns of the court. 
 But he did not remain in exile long. Soon he returned, 
 one of the leaders of that expedition which was to free 
 England for ever from the dread of Komanism. 
 
 From his youth, Burnet was the friend of the greatest 
 and best men of his time. The amiable Leighton was 
 his early adviser in his studies and his constant corres- 
 pondent until death. Archbishop Tillotson, the learned 
 and polished preacher, Bishop Lloyd, the careful orator. 
 Bishops Tenison and Patrick were his constant friends. 
 He retained the esteem through life of the purest men 
 in the church. 
 
 "With kings and courts he was singularly familiar. 
 The dissolute Charles and the papist James both found 
 pleasure in his society, and respected his frank sincerity. 
 When he came to Paris, while he was yet only a parish 
 Priest, Louis XIY. placed a carriage and servants at 
 his disposal, and directed his courtiers to pay him parti- 
 cular attention. On entering Rome, the pope sent him 
 a message desiring to see him, and offering to avoid in 
 his case the ceremonial usual on such occasions. When 
 Burnet fled from England to avoid the hostility of 
 James, he was received with unusual favor by the 
 reserved William and his more attractive queen. The 
 States of Holland, when James demanded the fugitive, 
 defended him with energy. And when that monarch 
 offered a great reward for his seizure, Burnet walked 
 
236 THE REMARKABLE SCENES HE WITNESSED. 
 
 boldly through the streets of Hague and no man offered 
 to harm him. 
 
 His friends were among the highest nobility. In 
 youth he had the patronage of the Duke and Duchess 
 of Hamilton and even that of Lauderdale, afterwards his 
 bitterest foe. Halifax, the tasteful patron of all literary 
 men, made Burnet frequent offers of friendly assistance. 
 The excellent Eussell and the patriotic Essex were his 
 constant companions. In later life, he was one of the 
 principal men at court, liked by almost every one for 
 his good nature and his obliging disposition. Even the 
 bitter Swift is forced to confess that " after all he was a 
 man of good nature and generosity." 
 
 Burnet lived through one of the most stirring periods 
 of English history. He was born in the reign of Charles 
 I., before the scaffold had closed that eventful life ; he 
 died when under George I. the English constitution had 
 settled into almost its present form. He saw in youth 
 the protectorship of Cromwell. He listened to some of 
 those long sermons which were preached to Charles H., 
 and relates how, on one fast day, there were six delivered 
 before the youthful king. He heard the shouts of joy 
 that swelled over England at the Restoration. He wit- 
 nessed the popularity of the restored king decline. He 
 shared that dread of Popery which filled every Protes- 
 tant heart in England, when it was found that their king 
 was a secret papist and his successor an avowed one. 
 He witnessed calmly the fierce excitement of Popish 
 plot and the execution of the beloved Russell. He saw 
 
ins FATHEK. 237 
 
 the narrow-minded James endeavor to rebuild in Eng- 
 land the power of the pope, by bribes to the unyielding 
 dissenters and threats to the undaunted church. He 
 fled from James' tyranny to return with "William and 
 Mary. He saw Protestantism once more relieved from 
 its terrors and a free government established in England, 
 which has been its best assurance of religious and civil 
 liberty. He lived through the reign of Anne to write a 
 sincere and faithful narrative of the whole of this busy 
 period. 
 
 Gilbert Burnet, Bishop of Sarum, was born at Edin- 
 burgh, on the 18th September, 1643. He was descended 
 from the younger branch of a respectable family of 
 Aberdeenshire. His father was generally respected and 
 beloved. His character was singularly pure. He prac- 
 tised the civil law until Cromwell's time, when he 
 retired from his profession, because he could not take 
 the necessary oaths under the protector. He was a 
 churchman with liberal sentiments and a devoted royal- 
 ist through all political changes. He possessed excellent 
 judgment and much learning and talent, but an unusual 
 diffidence is said to have prevented his rise in his pro- 
 fession. He was so humane that he would never receive 
 a fee from clergymen or the poor. A great part of his 
 earnings were bestowed in charity. His wife was the 
 sister of Johnstown, Lord Warristown, the head at the 
 time of the Presbyterian interest. But "Warristown 
 showed little favor to his royalist brother-in-law, and 
 Burnet was forced on three occasions to fly for his life 
 
238 BUKNET STUDIES LAW. 
 
 from Scotland. During Cromwell's reign he retired to 
 Ms estate, refusing all offers of preferment under the 
 new government, and here he remained until the Resto- 
 ration. His wife, the mother of the future bishop, was 
 a Presbyterian of great zeal in her religion and propriety 
 in her conduct. 
 
 The father devoted his leisure to the education of his 
 sons. He seems to have been a successful instructor. 
 At ten the younger Burnet could read Latin readily, 
 and entered the college of Aberdeen to acquire Greek. 
 Here he distinguished himself by his success in the 
 languages and in the Scholastic Philosophy. At four- 
 teen he was made master of arts. This early proficiency 
 speaks either the unusual talent of Burnet or the low 
 state of Scotch education. It arose, probably, from both 
 causes. The Scottish colleges of that period were not 
 strict in their requirements, and the young student was 
 at all seasons of his life active and industrious. Upon 
 leaving college Burnet commenced the study of his 
 father's profession, the civil law. 
 
 But he did not pursue it long. It was a time of 
 unusual religious excitement. Violent wars had but 
 lately been waged between the rival sects. In Scotland 
 the tendency to theological discussion was peculiarly 
 strong. As yet its active intellect had found no allure- 
 ments in philosophy or pure literature, and had fixed 
 with ardor upon doctrinal debate. Its eminent preachers 
 had gained a power over their congregations such as the 
 prophets of Israel might have exercised. They had 
 
BUT PKEFEKS THE CHURCH. 239 
 
 taught tliem the nicest subtleties of the Calvinistic faith., 
 and made every dogma dearer to them than life itself. 
 The meanest Scotch peasant could discourse of the doc- 
 trines of Election and Free-will in a manner that proved 
 how well he had studied and understood them. His 
 religion was the chief object of his life, the theme of his 
 daily conversation. His conduct was usually austere, 
 but he was even more severe in his condemnation of 
 doctrinal than of moral failings. 
 
 The nobility were often as devout as the peasantry. 
 And religion formed the leading interest of the nation, 
 the subject of its literature and the source of its policy. 
 
 Among such influences the young mind of Burnet 
 could not fail to be turned towards the church. His 
 parents were both likely to favor this choice. He began 
 to study theology. He read all the noted polemics and 
 studied both sides of the Protestant and Catholic ques- 
 tion? He was familiar with Bellarmine as well as with 
 Chamier. Fourteen hours a day he devoted to study. 
 At eighteen he became a probationer, a term used in 
 Scotland for one who was licensed to preach but had no 
 settled parish. He was offered a living by his friends, 
 but declined it because he thought himself too young to 
 perform its duties well. His time was now passed in 
 the society of eminent divines. Of these, Bishop Leigh- 
 ton seems to have been the most useful. The bishop 
 directed him in his course of reading and enforced, by 
 his example, those liberal principles which Burnet had 
 already imbibed from his parents. 
 
24:0 HE TRAVELS. 
 
 "When, in 1661, his father and his brother, a member 
 of the bar, died, his mother's relations endeavored to 
 prevail upon Burnet to give up the church and assume 
 his father's profession. They saw, no doubt, that his 
 talents were well suited to the law and that he must 
 attain high eminence in civil life. But Burnet clung to 
 his profession. He had adopted it upon principle and no 
 allurements of worldly advantage could draw him from 
 it. 
 
 He resolved to travel before taking a parish. In 
 1663 he went to England. His family influence ena- 
 bled him, though only twenty, to become known to the 
 eminent men of the time. He became acquainted with 
 Cudworth, Pearson, Patrick, and Tillotson, men looked 
 upon as pillars of Episcopacy, and with whom he after- 
 wards lived in intimate friendship in more dangerous 
 times. He conversed with the free-thinking Henry 
 More, and knew Burnet his namesake, the author of the 
 once famous Theory of the Earth. For a young man of 
 twenty these were useful acquaintances. He spent six 
 months very profitably in England, and then returned to 
 Edinburgh, where a living was pressed upon him by 
 Sir Kobert Fletcher of Saltown. He determined, how- 
 ever, upon a journey to the continent. He had seen 
 the great lights of the church in England, he was 
 now anxious to visit the seats of Protestantism abroad. 
 
 He first went to Holland, at that time the most 
 remarkable country in Europe. Holland had but 
 lately been rescued from the waves and from the mur- 
 
HE PAUSES AT AMSTERDAM. 24:1 
 
 derous tyranny of Spain. Yet it had started into a 
 sudden prosperity that excited the envy of the sur- 
 rounding monarchs. Its narrow territory was culti- 
 vated like a garden, and its busy people planted and 
 sowed beneath the roar of the North Sea billows. Its 
 harbors sent forth great fleets such as no other nation 
 could equal. Its cities were marked by security and 
 neatness at a time when Paris and London were beset 
 by robbers and covered with filth. Its government 
 was a republic in the midst of the darkest of des- 
 potisms. Its religion was Protestant when Popery was 
 rising from its discomfitures with a power more 
 menacing than ever. 
 
 Burnet paused at Amsterdam to study Hebrew under 
 a learned Rabbi, but he learned something more than 
 Hebrew. He conversed with the leaders of the various 
 sects who, under the free government of the States, 
 gathered around them their adherents and assailed each 
 other with unsparing violence. Here he saw the 
 Armenian, and the Calvinist, the Lutherans, the Unita- 
 rians, the Anabaptists, and the Papists, all enjoying a 
 common toleration, and engaged in incessant theological 
 discussions. At first view the scene was not encourag- 
 ing to the young Protestant. He could hardly look 
 with pleasure upon this disunion among those who 
 should have united against a common foe. But upon 
 conversing with the leaders of these sects he formed a 
 more favorable opinion of them. He found them 
 pious, sincere, and devoted men. He discovered that 
 
 11 
 
24:2 HIS PARISH. 
 
 their warmth in debate proceeded from their very 
 sincerity. And he learned from this view of opposing 
 sects not to scoff at all religion but to believe that 
 good existed in all. He was the more confirmed in his 
 zeal for toleration, a principle that he never ceased to 
 advocate until his death. 
 
 From Holland he went to Paris. Here he became 
 acquainted with many learned men, and listened atten- 
 tively to the famous preachers of the time. He 
 thought them too declamatory, but gave them credit 
 for remarkable talent. In the reign of Louis XIV. 
 the pulpit of Paris flourished equally with its litera- 
 ture. 
 
 From France Burnet returned to his native land. 
 His foreign tour had added much to his knowledge 
 without destroying his early piety. He came back 
 from the brilliant society of the continent to settle as 
 the pastor of an obscure country parish at Saltown. 
 Here he stayed nearly five years, and so diligently 
 performed the duties of his station as to win the general 
 esteem of his parishioners. He preached twice every 
 Sunday, and at least once during the week. He 
 cathechised thrice a week, administered the sacrament 
 regularly, and visited the sick and poor with great 
 assiduity. His benevolence and charity were conspi- 
 cuous. He was fond of extemporary preaching, for 
 which he prepared himself by careful meditation upon 
 his subject. Burnet was still a young man, but his 
 many virtues had already made him an example and a 
 
EPISCOPACY UNPOPULAR IN SCOTLAND. 243 
 
 reproach to many of his less scrupulous brethren of the 
 church. 
 
 Episcopacy had but lately been forced upon the 
 unwilling Scotch. The majority of the people were 
 Presbyterians. Under the Parliament and Cromwell 
 they had enjoyed a perfect supremacy of the Calvinistic 
 form. During all that period no prelate had been seen 
 in Scotland. When, therefore, Charles II. forced upon 
 the nation a new system of worship, and built up by 
 law the church of England in its midst ; when the 
 Scotch saw their favorite pastors driven from their 
 churches, and their places filled by an unknown crowd 
 of prelatical divines ; when they felt that in future they 
 must give up all their old dogmas and worship accord- 
 ing to the will of a tyrannical king, they were filled 
 with indignation. Episcopacy grew more unpopular 
 than ever. The great body of the nation indeed 
 submitted, but it was only because they saw no hope 
 of successful resistance. In some parts of the country 
 the more violent of the covenanters still continued to 
 hold their meetings in defiance of the English tyranny. 
 These unhappy men soon felt the penalties they had 
 incurred. Even in the desolate moors and heaths of 
 the western Lowlands where they had stolen away 
 hoping to enjoy the prized liberty of conscience, they 
 were hunted out by the emissaries of government, their 
 meetings broken up by armed force, and those who 
 were taken prisoners exposed to such tortures and pains 
 as only Popery in the times of bitterest persecution had 
 
244 CHARLES ATTEMPTS TO INTRODUCE IT BY FORCE. 
 
 been known to inflict. They were cast into prison, 
 beaten, tortured, and hanged. "Whole districts were 
 exposed to the cruel ravages of dissolute troopers who 
 hunted from house to house for the concealed cove- 
 nanters. To chase a covenanter was to these wretches 
 as good sport as to hunt a stag. They burst into the 
 assemblies of faithful worshippers with loud oaths and 
 ribaldry, such as would have become a legion of devils. 
 They shot down pastor and people while bent in prayer 
 or united in praise. They assumed the name as well 
 as the conduct of demons, and their captains were 
 known as Beelzebub, or Belial, or by some equally 
 appropriate title even among their own people. 
 
 By such means did King Charles attempt to convert 
 his subjects in Scotland to Episcopacy. It would have 
 required uncommon excellence on the part of the 
 ministers of that church to remove the hostile impression 
 which had thus been produced. Had they come in 
 meekness, compassion, and a self-sacrificing spirit, as if 
 resolved to heal the wounds occasioned by an injudi- 
 cious government, they might have awakened in the 
 minds of the depressed Scots some feeling of favor 
 towards those who could thus sympathize with their 
 misfortunes. 
 
 Yery different was the conduct of the new bishops, 
 who were sent from England, to restore Episcopacy. 
 Even Burnet had been disgusted by the idle pomp with 
 which they made their triumphal entry into Edinburgh. 
 They seemed to come like conquerors triumphing over 
 
LIVES OF THE NEW BISHOPS. 24:5 
 
 a fallen people, rather than as ministers of a faith that 
 professes a perfect humility : their very air savored of 
 spiritual pride, and their priestly robes, long unusual in 
 Scotland, recalled vividly the memory of papal prac- 
 tices and persecutions. Their coming seemed a fitting 
 prelude to that season of affection under which the 
 Scotch Church was to bow in sorrow all through the 
 rule of the last Stuarts, and which was to be ended 
 only when the great grandson of Mary should be driven 
 forth into exile, the last of her fated line. 
 
 The lives of the new bishops became a scandal even 
 to the Episcopalians in Scotland. They were violent 
 bigots in doctrine ; they neglected their most necessary 
 duties. Some never entered their diocese : others passed 
 their time in the society of men of loose character and 
 open impiety. They were vain, worldly and irreligious : 
 they took no pains to hide even their vices, and seemed 
 to rely wholly upon force for the establishment of the 
 Church and the conversion of the Scotch. Persecution 
 was their favorite argument. They encouraged the 
 violent policy of Charles, and the cruel extremities to 
 which it was carried by his ministers. 
 
 To the mild and good-natured Burnet such conduct 
 on the part of the heads of his church was singularly 
 displeasing. His good feeling was shocked by the 
 harsh measures which they advocated, his piety revolted 
 at their worldliness. He saw the impolicy as well as 
 the impropriety of their conduct : himself a zealous 
 defender of the Episcopacy, he could not but feel that the 
 
24:6 BI7RNET OFFENDS THE RULING PARTY. 
 
 bishops were destroying the hopes of his church: he 
 knew that the majority of the Scotch were people of 
 unusual austerity of life, and not apt to overlook the 
 failings of those of an opposite faith : he felt that the 
 keen glance of a thousand enemies was fixed with bit- 
 ter exultation on those scandals, which had destroyed 
 the good name of their oppressors: he resolved, not- 
 withstanding his youth, and the danger of the attempt, 
 to protest against their policy and practice. 
 
 At twenty-three he drew up a memorial, recounting 
 their misconduct, and having signed it distributed seve- 
 ral copies among his friends. It created much interest. 
 The bishops read it, and were enraged : they summoned 
 the young parish priest before them : they rebuked 
 him for having dared to advise his superiors : . they 
 charged him with reflecting on the king, for having 
 called them to his councils; at least they demanded 
 that he should as,k their pardon for what he had 
 done. 
 
 Burnet was not dismayed. He avowed his paper; 
 and, to prove that it was no anonymous libel, pointed 
 to his name at the close. He steadily refused to make 
 any apology. Sharpe, Archbishop of St. Andrews, a con- 
 vert from Presbyterianism, and the source of the most 
 violent counsels, lead the prosecution against Burnet. 
 But even Sharpe was alarmed by the boldness of the 
 young priest. He began to suspect that Lauderdale was 
 his instigator. The bishops did not succeed in making 
 Burnet ask pardon, and his fame was widely spread by 
 
THE DUCHESS OF HAMILTON. 247 
 
 his bold conduct. Lauderdale was greatly pleased with 
 it, and mentioned it to the king. Charles, who was 
 fond of declaiming against the bishops, was delighted 
 with the whole occurrence. It was, perhaps, one cause 
 of Burnet's favorable reception at his court. 
 
 In 1668, when moderate counsels prevailed in Sect- 
 land, Burnet was much consulted by the government. 
 In 1669, his reputation for learning and piety led to his 
 appointment as professor of divinity at Glasgow. Here, 
 it is said, 'his moderation made him unpopular both 
 with Episcopalians and Presbyterians. 
 
 He had now made the acquaintance of the Duchess 
 of Hamilton, and often visited her at her house. She 
 seems to have entertained an unusual friendship for 
 Burnet. His good qualities were such, that no one 
 who knew him well could avoid liking him. His gene- 
 rosity, candor, good-nature and moderation were rare 
 qualities in those days of violent factions in church and 
 state. 
 
 At the Duchess of Hamilton's house he met Lady 
 Margaret Kennedy, the daughter of the Earl of Cassillis. 
 She was a person of great piety, and inclining towards 
 Presbyterianism, was probably pleased with Burnet's 
 moderation. The duchess encouraged the young cler- 
 gyman to offer himself to this lady. She possessed 
 some fortune, and was an advantageous match for him. 
 In those times, says the biographer, it was no unusual 
 thing for the daughters of the nobility to marry clergy- 
 men. It is to be hoped that the good custom is not 
 
24:8 BUBNET MARRIES. 
 
 changed. They are married, and Burnet, to avoid sus- 
 picion of mercenary motives, settled the lady's fortune 
 upon herself. She was many years older than himself, 
 a circumstance that gave Swift a pleasant topic for 
 ridicule. 
 
 But the duchess was not satisfied with giving Burnet 
 a wife. She entrusted him with the papers of the late 
 Duke of Hamilton, and engaged him to write his 
 Memoirs. In connection with this charge, Burnet went 
 twice to London. In his first visit he became instru- 
 mental in reconciling Lauderdale with the Duke of 
 Hamilton. In 1672 he published his vindication of the 
 Church of Scotland, when he was yet under thirty. In 
 1673 he repaired to London with his Memoirs, to obtain 
 a license for their publication. 
 
 Here he met with much attention. He was immedi- 
 ately named one of the king's chaplains in ordinary. 
 The Duke of Lauderdale introduced him to Charles, 
 and mentioned to the king the subject of his Memoirs. 
 Charles read part of them, expressed his approval, and 
 directed that they should be licensed. 
 
 Burnet had a long private audience with the king. 
 They talked much of church matters. Charles's mind 
 was evidently won over to Popery^. Religious contro- 
 versy seems to have been the only subject that he ever 
 studied, and that he had examined in a superficial man- 
 ner. He had been converted by the weakest arguments 
 Romanism. His delight was to jeer at the failings of 
 churchmen. He disliked Episcopacy even more than 
 
IS INTRODUCED TO THE KING. 249 
 
 Presbyterianism. Charles told Burnet that the Episco- 
 palians when they argued against dissenters, laid great 
 stress, upon the authority of the Church, but when they 
 wrote against Catholics, they neglected it entirely. 
 Burnet replied by explaining to him the difference 
 between authority and infallibility. The king com- 
 plained of the bishops for neglecting their churches, 
 following the court, and entering into violent political 
 factions. Burnet, with his usual boldness, now turned 
 the argument upon the king, the head of the church. 
 He reproved his immorality. He spoke of its dangers, 
 and its consequences. Charles was living in open licen- 
 tiousness. His court emulated their monarch, and he was 
 accustomed to hear nothing but the language of gaiety 
 and license. It was a bold act therefore for the young 
 Scotch priest so openly to assail the favorite vices of his 
 king. Yet Charles was not offended. He liked bold- 
 ness. His sensual philosophy was not easily disturbed. 
 He only replied, " that he did not believe God would 
 damn a man for a little pleasure." 
 
 The Earl of Ancram, next introduced Burnet to the 
 Duke of York. The duke asked him for an account of 
 affairs in Scotland, but Burnet avoided the subject. 
 They then talked of religion. James spoke of the neces- 
 sity of an infallible church, of the swarms of sectaries, of 
 the rebellions, and massacres which had sprung from 
 Protestantism, of the death of his father and his ances- 
 tress, Mary, Queen of Scots. Burnet was as candid 
 with James as he had been with the king. He pointed 
 
250 RETURNS TO SCOTLAND. 
 
 out to him how ignorance and credulity had spread over 
 the church of the middle ages ; how the papal preten- 
 sion to infallibility had been the true source of all reli- 
 gious wars, how it must ever continue to occasion blood- 
 shed and disturbance. James professed to be pleased 
 with Burnet, and Burnet made no other use of his friend- 
 ship than an attempt to convert him. He begged the 
 duke to be present at a conference in which Chilling- 
 worth, the great controversialist, and himself would 
 discuss the question with the chief leaders of the Romish 
 persuasion. The proposal was declined. 
 
 When Burnet returned to Scotland, he found party 
 spirit more violent than ever. Hamilton and Lander- 
 dale had quarrelled. The latter became Burnet's open 
 enemy. The court measures had failed in Parliament ; 
 Lauderdale threw the blame of the failure upon Burnet. 
 He accused him of being the leader of the opposition. 
 To clear himself of this charge, Burnet went again to 
 London. Charles had been so incensed against him 
 that he had ordered his name to be stricken off the roll 
 of chaplains. The duke, however, remained his friend, 
 and brought him to the king. Charles became con- 
 vinced of his innocence and directed him to return to 
 Glasgow. But the violent and tyrannical Lauderdale was 
 now his bitter enemy. He could not return to Scotland 
 without danger of imprisonment. The time for modera- 
 tion was over in that unhappy country. Even the duke 
 cautioned Burnet against venturing in the power of his 
 foes. 
 
HE SETTLES IN LONDON. 251 
 
 Burnet must, therefore, seek a new establishment. 
 He proposed to settle in London. Here a large party 
 existed, who sympathized with his own moderation. 
 Among the citizens of the metropolis he was certain to 
 find audiences who would delight in his ready extem- 
 porary eloquence. The court alone opposed his project. 
 However much they might respect his sincerity, it 
 could not but be unfavorable to the designs of James 
 and Charles, to have so keen and popular a divine 
 watching their movements, and perhaps preparing an 
 early opposition. When Burnet decided to settle in 
 London, he felt that he must do so under the forms of 
 the court. He was first offered the parish of St. Giles, 
 Cripplegate, which he declined. He was then appointed 
 preacher of the Rolls Chapel, by Sir Harbottle Grim- 
 stone, master of the rolls. 
 
 Burnet entered London when the great metropolis 
 was just beginning to be agitated by the violence of 
 religious excitement. London was thoroughly Pro- 
 testant. Its wealthy merchants and hardy apprentices 
 still cherished a jealousy of Popery. Among its vast 
 population were many who regretted the austere days 
 of Cromwell, and who looked upon the gay and glitter- 
 ing court as an abomination and a curse. London con- 
 tained the seeds of many plots. The concealment which 
 its narrow streets and hidden corners offered to political 
 offenders, at a time when a police hardly existed, had 
 made it the refuge of all who desired the overthrow of 
 government. They were safer there than they would 
 
252 THE LONDONERS HOSTILE TO THE COUKT. 
 
 have been in the heaths of Yorkshire. , All who sought 
 political notoriety hastened up to the capital : all who 
 wished for eminence of any kind must seek it there. 
 The huge city was full of restless spirits, for the most 
 part dissatisfied with the government, who were ready 
 to join in every movement that promised to be popular 
 and to swell the general discontent. When, therefore, 
 the agitation against Romanism commenced, there were 
 thousands, indifferent to all religion, who aided by their 
 unscrupulous artifices to swell the public alarm. 
 
 London had long suspected and disliked the court. 
 The contempt which the courtiers entertained for the 
 unpolished citizens, had been returned by the latter 
 with a thorough hatred. The morals of the French 
 regime were looked upon with proper loathing by the 
 Puritanical citizens. But when it was rumored that, 
 with foreign manners, Charles had also brought over a 
 foreign religion, the dislike of the city increased into a 
 suspicious dread. The open apostasy of the Duke of 
 York confirmed this feeling. The city now watched 
 the court with all the keenness of religious zeal, con- 
 vinced that, amid its trifles and its pleasures, it enter- 
 tained the design of destroying the Protestant faith. 
 The suspicion was well founded. Charles had already 
 sold the consciences of his countrymen to Louis. He 
 had pledged himself to profess the Romish faith, and he 
 only delayed the avowal of his determination until the 
 moment when he should be able to restrain the violence 
 of his Protestant subjects by a standing army. 
 
PERSECUTIONS IN SCOTLAND. 253 
 
 The House of Commons shared the feeling of the city. 
 They looked with suspicions dread upon the court: 
 they, too, believed that a design had been formed by 
 the king to deprive them of their civil and religious 
 liberties. They had lately turned their attention to 
 Scotland, and had beheld there a scene of persecution 
 and oppression, such as might well forewarn them of 
 what might possibly be the doom of their own country. 
 Charles, so mild and tolerant in his professions to his Eng- 
 lish subjects, had shown no mercy to the Scotch. His 
 minister Lauderdale had been left to gratify his utmost 
 cruelty among the feeble and unprotected convenanters. 
 In vain had the Duke of Hamilton and the liberal party 
 in Scotland remonstrated against those enormities. 
 Charles sustained his minister and neglected his accusers. 
 Lauderdale heard of their failure, and redoubled his 
 oppressions : he sold favors, offices and even justice. 
 The whole government of Scotland fell into his hands ; 
 and he reigned over that kingdom more like a Roman 
 proconsul than the minister of a constitutional king. 
 
 His violent conduct awakened the indignation of 
 the House of Commons. They commenced an inquiry 
 into his measures, and among other witnesses summoned 
 Burnet. They de'manded that he should give an account 
 of Lauderdale's conduct. Burnet hesitated. Much as 
 he hated the minister's tyranny, he would not repeat 
 what he had heard only in private conversation. Four 
 times he was summoned to the bar of the House, and 
 urged to answer. At length he yielded when he had 
 
254 BURNEf AS A PREACHER. 
 
 been threatened with the effects of their high dis- 
 pleasure. He confessed that he had heard Lauderdale 
 say that he wished the Presbyterians of Scotland would 
 revolt, that he might bring over the Irish papists to cut 
 their throats. Notwithstanding, however, the efforts of 
 the Commons, Charles still sustained Lauderdale. 
 
 As a preacher, Burnet was highly esteemed in the 
 capital. His church was always crowded with hearers : 
 his zealous extemporary preaching, and his moderate 
 principles recommended him to dissenters as well as to 
 churchmen. In the common dread of Popery the lines 
 of sectarian difference seemed to grow faint and indis- 
 tinct. He now won the support of all Protestants by 
 his controversial writings. In 17T6 he published an 
 account of the discussions between himself, Stillingfleet 
 and the Jesuit Coleman. 
 
 The origin of this discussion was curious : Sir Philip 
 Tyrwhit, a papist, had fallen in love with a Protestant 
 lady, and, to gain her affections, professed himself of 
 the same faith with herself. The lady suspected his 
 sincerity ; but, to quiet her scruples, he took the sacra- 
 ment with her in the Protestant form. They were mar- 
 ried. After marriage the fatal secret was revealed. The 
 lady found that she had linked herself for life with one 
 who believed her to be a heretic, and for ever lost. 
 They lived together for some time unhappily. At last 
 the wife determined to attempt the conversion of her 
 husband. She came to Burnet to request his aid. It 
 was arranged that he and Stillingfleet should discuss 
 
HIS ARGUMENT WITH COLEMAN. 255 
 
 the points of faith with any Romish divines that might 
 be willing to meet them in the presence of herself and 
 her husband. A day was appointed: the two Pro- 
 testants appeared. They found the Jesuit Coleman 
 waiting to oppose them. The argument took place, and 
 -Burnet recorded and published it. Coleman was secre- 
 tary to the Duke of York, and active in making prose- 
 lytes. The public sided with Burnet ; but unfortunately 
 the lady with Coleman. Some time after she yielded 
 her religion to the arguments of the Jesuit, or the 
 solicitations of her husband. 
 
 The publication of this argument gave Burnet great 
 weight with the Protestant party. He wrote in a 
 manner plain and popular. He knew, too, how to suit 
 his subject to the public taste. His History of the 
 Reformation, which appeared soon after, possessed 
 an interest that appealed to every Englishman. 
 
 The dread of Popery had now assumed a definite form. 
 It was believed firmly by three-fourths of the Protestants 
 that a great plot for the destruction of their faith had 
 just been discovered. It was a scheme of the Jesuits 
 by which the Romanists were to massacre their Pro- 
 testant neighbors and assassinate the king. They were 
 to set fire to London and call in a French army. This 
 story was sustained by the discovery of some papers 
 belonging to Coleman, the Jesuit, and by the murder 
 of Godfrey, the justice, before whom the deposition of 
 the informer, Gates, had been taken. The House of 
 Commons, the city of London, and the greater part of 
 
256 HIS HISTOBY OF THE KEFOEMATION. 
 
 the nation, were seized with an alarm approaching mad- 
 ness. Protestants in their terror adopted something of 
 the persecuting spirit of their opponents. The prisons 
 were crowded with papists. In the courts of justice the 
 lives of innocent men were sacrificed upon the oaths of 
 the vilest of mankind. The terror was increased by new 
 informers who every day added something to the horrors 
 of the plot, until even in the midst of London no citizen 
 could feel safe unless he was armed and saw the guard 
 patrolling from street to street. 
 
 The plot was a fiction, yet there was good ground for 
 Protestants at that moment to tremble. They felt that 
 their king was a papist and in close alliance with Louis. 
 Romanism in many years had not presented so imposing 
 an aspect. France, the ruling power in Europe, over- 
 awed the Protestant states and seemed about to over- 
 whelm them. Its ambitious king was a bigot in matters 
 of religion. He stood ready at a moment to interfere 
 in the affairs of England, and to aid her traitorous mon- 
 arch to destroy the liberty of his subjects. 
 
 In this moment of alarm Burnet's History appeared. 
 It recounted the story of the English Reformation. It 
 set in a fair light the arguments upon which the church 
 of England rested. It renewed the memory of Popish 
 persecution and intolerance. 
 
 No book was ever better received. It was greeted 
 with loud applause from all Protestants. Parliament 
 thanked the author for his first volume and begged 
 him to continue it an honor which it has never paid 
 
HE MAKES A STRANGE CONVERT. 257 
 
 to any author before or since. It was translated into 
 French, Latin and German, and whereverit went became 
 the text-book of the Protestant, an object of loathing 
 and alarm to his opponents. 
 
 During the Popish jplot Burnet acted with his usual 
 moderation. He endeavored to save the lives of several 
 of the accused. And he was frequently consulted by the 
 king. Charles offered to make him Bishop of Chichester 
 if he would come into his measures. Burnet declined. 
 
 About this time he made a singular convert. He had 
 been called to attend the sick-bed of one of the victims 
 of Wilmot, Earl of Rochester. The writings and the 
 life of that nobleman were equally profligate. He is 
 remembered for having written the most licentious 
 volume of poetry in the language, and for having lived 
 a most dissolute life. Yet at this time he had grown 
 weary of his vices, and learning how assiduously Burnet 
 had visited the lady, sought his acquaintance. The 
 acquaintance grew into intimacy. Once a week the 
 earl and Burnet met to go over the leading objections 
 against Christianity, and to converse upon religious 
 topics. Burnet believed that he had made a sincere 
 convert of Wilmot. He published in 1680 an account 
 of their conferences. 
 
 The effect which he had had upon the courtier led 
 him to attempt the conversion of the king. The incident 
 bears a close resemblance to that of his interview with 
 Wilmot, He was summoned to the dying bed of Mrs. 
 Eoberts, once the mistress of Charles. He visited her 
 
258 ATTEMPTS THE CONVERSION OF THE KING. 
 
 often and believed her to be penitent. As some atone- 
 ment for her past faults he urged her to write a letter to 
 the Mng, warning him, as with her dying voice, of the 
 dangers of a life of immorality. At her request Burnet 
 drew up the letter, but the sick woman had never suffi- 
 cient strength to write it. He then resolved to write 
 himself, as he says, a very plain letter to the king. He 
 set before Charles his whole past life, the effect of his 
 own example upon his people, the judgments which had 
 already befallen him and those to which he might justly 
 look forward. He alluded to the ill-success of the king 
 in all his plans, both foreign and domestic, as a proof 
 that he had forfeited the favor of heaven. It was the 
 anniversary of the beheading of Charles I. Burnet, 
 indelicately yet with the purest motive, ventured to tell 
 Charles that what had befallen his father on the 30th 
 January should move him to regard this appeal. He 
 carried the letter himself to the palace and gave it to 
 Chiffinch, the confidential servant of the king. Chiffinch, 
 who had often borne missives of a very different import, 
 never carried one so startling. Lord Arran told Burnet 
 afterwards that he had held the candle while Charles 
 read it. He read it attentively twice over and then 
 threw it in the fire. When Arran mentioned Burnet's 
 name some time after, the king spoke of him with great 
 sharpness. 
 
 This rather indelicate proceeding was in keeping with 
 Burnet's whole character. His disposition was warm 
 and hasty. He never saw a wrong that he did not 
 
HIS VARIOUS WORKS. 259 
 
 hasten to redress it. Where others would have been 
 restrained by modesty or good' taste, Burnet broke 
 through the usages of society in pursuit of a good object. 
 Thus, when he had just succeeded in reforming "VVilmot, 
 his warmth of feeling urged him to attempt the conver- 
 sion of Charles. His good heart was touched by the 
 spectacle of that thoughtless monarch destroying himself 
 and corrupting his people. He wrote, therefore, in a 
 strain so bold and urgent as none but himself would 
 have ventured to employ. He wrote at the hazard of 
 giving deadly offence. It was no light matter to rebuke 
 the vices of a tyrannical king, to recall to his memory 
 the disgraceful termination of his wars, and to warn him 
 to avoid the fate of his unhappy father. Yet Burnet 
 ventured all for the sake of doing Charles a service. 
 Perhaps he never once thought of the consequences. 
 
 The excitement of the Popish plot passed away. Its 
 violence, which had for a time intimidated the court, 
 was succeeded by a reaction in its favor. Charles, 
 towards the close of his reign, abandoned all pretence 
 of moderation. He became almost as tyrannical as his 
 father. 
 
 Burnet was never idle. His church was thronged. 
 He preached with untiring fervor. He wrote inces- 
 santly. In 1682 he published three works, his life of 
 Sir Matthew Hale, a second volume of the History, 
 and a reply to an attack upon that book. He was 
 offered preferment if he would come over to the court 
 measures, but he steadily declined it. His friends were 
 numerous and powerful. Lord Russell, the Earl of 
 
260 THE RYE-HOUSE PLOT. 
 
 Essex, Halifax, Tillotson, Chillingworth, and many 
 others delighted in his society. So incessant were the 
 calls at his house that he found himself obliged to avoid 
 society by a singular expedient. He built a laboratory 
 and for a year gave himself up to experiments in 
 chemistry. His versatile mind had been charmed by 
 the novelty of a science that was just becoming popular 
 in England. Here, immersed in a new study, he kept 
 aloof from politics, and avoided those rash counsels 
 which towards the close of the reign of Charles engaged 
 the attention of the leaders of his party. 
 
 "When the Ryehouse plot was discovered, it was 
 generally believed that he would be found implicated 
 in it, since two of his most intimate friends, Essex and 
 Russell, were of the number of those arrested. But 
 Burnet had acted on this occasion with more than his 
 usual caution. He had candidly told those noblemen 
 that he was resolved to reveal any treasonable designs 
 he might chance to hear, and they had been careful 
 not to commit themselves in his presence. 
 
 Yet when the earl and Lord Russell were committed 
 to the Tower, Burnet manfully stood by them to the last. 
 He was strongly attached to Lord Russell. He was 
 with him constantly in his imprisonment. Burnet was 
 not a writer of great sensibility, but even the history of 
 his own times grows touching when he relates the last 
 scenes of Russell's life. He paints the patience, firm- 
 ness, and piety of his friend with a simplicity that is 
 almost artistic. 
 
 The night before his execution, Russell conversed 
 
EXECUTION OF HIS FRIEND KUSSELL. 261 
 
 calmly with Burnet and Tillotson upon religious topics. 
 He said he thought a sudden death desirable. His 
 own calm courage sustained the spirits of his friends. 
 His children, some of whom were quite young, were 
 brought in, and he took leave of them with composure. 
 His lady next came. She endeavored to command her 
 feelings and parted from her husband without disturb- 
 ing his calmness. Russell then retired to his chamber. 
 It was now midnight. Burnet waited all night in an 
 outer room. At two Russell laid down, and was fast 
 asleep at four, when he was called. He rose and 
 dressed quickly. He was told that the plot had proved 
 to be unfounded, and said he rejoiced at it for the sake 
 of his party. He asked Burnet what he should give 
 the executioner, and was told ten guineas. Even at 
 that moment a ludicrous idea arose in his mind. " It 
 is a pretty thing," said he, " that one should pay for 
 having his head cut off." 
 
 At ten o'clock the sheriff's officers came to carry him 
 to the place of execution. He accompanied them 
 without reluctance. Burnet and Tillotson went with 
 him. A crowd surrounded them as they passed, some 
 of whom insulted the prisoner, and others wept at the 
 spectacle. Russell was touched by the affection of the 
 one, but showed no anger at the others. As he beheld 
 the crowd gathered around the scaffold, he said he 
 hoped soon to be in a much better assembly. Having 
 alighted, he walked four or five times around the 
 scaffold. He delivered his last speech to the sheriff. 
 
262 HIS SPEECH PROBABLY WKITTEN BY BITKNET. 
 
 He prayed; then bared his neck, and laid his head 
 upon the block. It was cut off in two blows. 
 
 So beloved was Russell, that the night before his 
 execution Lord Cavendish came to beg him to ex- 
 change clothes with him and make his escape, while he 
 remained in his stead. But Russell would not expose 
 his friend to danger. They embraced tenderly, but 
 when Cavendish was turning away Russell turned to 
 him again and besought him to apply himself to reli- 
 gion, expressing to him how great a support and 
 comfort he now found in it in his extremity. The 
 Duke of Honmouth also sent him word that he would 
 surrender himself if it would produce his release. 
 Russell replied that " it would be no advantage to him 
 to have his friends die with him." 
 
 The speech which he had delivered to the sheriffs 
 was supposed to be the production of Burnet. It pro- 
 fessed his zeal for the church of England ; his desire 
 that churchmen would be less severe, dissenters less 
 scrupulous. He avowed his firm belief in the Popish 
 plot. He proclaimed his innocence, and asserted that 
 he was killed by law, the worst kind of murder. He 
 hoped, he said, that it might end with him. 
 
 This speech gave great offence to the court. Burnet 
 and Tillotson were summoned before a cabinet council 
 and charged with being its authors, Tillotson easily 
 proved his innocence ; he had only heard the speech 
 read. But Buraet was more strongly suspected. Its sen- 
 timents and its composition sounded like his own. He 
 
BUJKNET IN PARIS. 263 
 
 was known to be daring and hostile to the court, and it 
 was only by unusual caution that he had escaped the 
 fate of his friends. Had a shadow of proof existed 
 against him, he would have been one of the earliest 
 victims of the cruel policy of Charles. Burnet, how- 
 ever, defended himself boldly. He addressed himself 
 to the king. He told him that at the request of his 
 lady he had written down a minute account of every 
 event during his attendance upon the prisoner. Charles 
 desired him to read it. He did so. The king listened 
 attentively, and seemed astonished at many particulars. 
 The lord keeper asked Burnet if he intended to print 
 it. Burnet replied that it was written only for his 
 lady's use. He retired from the council unharmed, but 
 convinced that he could 110 longer be safe in England. 
 
 He went over to Paris. It was the reign of Louis 
 XIY.j and the French metropolis reflected the gaiety 
 and magnificence of its king. In the splendor of that 
 opening reign, no one could foresee how dark would be 
 its close. No one could dream that the gay and stately 
 monarch, who now gave law to Europe, and held Eng- 
 land as his tributary, would behold, before he died, 
 his finest armies defeated, his flourishing kingdom 
 impoverished, and his cherished glory tarnished by the 
 successors of the feeble Stuarts. In France, all was 
 magnificence and exultation. Everything conspired to 
 gratify the vanity of its king. He chose to encourage 
 letters, and a crowd of gifted men sprang up to cele- 
 brate his victories and adorn his reign. The drama and 
 
264: HIS WIDE KENOWN. 
 
 the arts flourished in France, as they had never done 
 before. The pulpit resounded with the unrivalled elo- 
 quence of Massillon and Bourdaloue. Great generals 
 appeared at the head of the French armies, more 
 renowned than all their predecessors, and skillful states- 
 men arose who could carry out the magnificent plans 
 of Louis. To visit Paris in those days, was to go to the 
 source of luxury, elegance, and good taste. From 
 thence English writers borrowed their rules of compo- 
 sition, as English milliners did the style of bonnets. 
 The literature of France, the taste of Paris, were the 
 standard of Europe. 
 
 Burnet's reputation had gone before him. His 
 writings were well known to all Roman Catholics. The 
 active, bustling, Scotch clergyman was received in 
 Paris with unusual honors. Rovigny, the uncle of his 
 friend, Lady Russell, took great pains to make him 
 known to every person of eminence. Here he first 
 made the acquaintance of Marshal Schomberg, who was 
 afterwards to share with him -the dangers and the 
 triumphs of the expedition of "William against England. 
 "While Burnet was at court, one of the king's coaches 
 was sent to wait upon him, and the courtiers were 
 directed to pay him marked attention. He was even 
 told that a pension would be offered him. 
 
 The Marshal Bellefont had been introduced to Burnet. 
 The marshal was a Roman Catholic of unusual piety, 
 spending much time in reading the scriptures, and prac- 
 ticing the virtues of a hermit in the midst of a dissolute 
 
THE DUCHESS DE LA VALIERE. 265 
 
 court. He was very weak but sincerely pious. This 
 good man formed the design of converting Burnet. Not 
 confident, however, of his own powers of persuasion, he 
 determined to make the beautiful Duchess de la Yaliere, 
 who had retired in penitence to a convent, the instru- 
 ment of the conversion. The duchess desired Burnet 
 to come to the grated window of her convent, and 
 converse with her upon the topic of religion. There she 
 recounted to him the steps of her conversion. How 
 she, who had shone in the brightest of earthly courts, 
 had come with weeping and lamentation over her past 
 errors, to submit to the strict discipline of the Carme- 
 lites. Although the duchess did not succeed in her 
 object, yet Burnet was convinced of her piety and con- 
 trition. His intercourse with these and other Roman 
 Catholics, gave him a better opinion of their religion 
 than was common among Protestants. He found them 
 of great austerity of life, and shocked at the immorality 
 and impiety which prevailed among the higher orders 
 of their clergy. They were anxious for a reformation 
 in their church. He was introduced to the famous 
 Bourdaloue, and was charmed with his mildness of man- 
 ner and excellent heart. He met also many Protestants 
 who had hastened to visit him as the great defender of 
 their faith. They yet lived on peacefully among their 
 Romanist brethren, unconscious of the dark days that 
 were approaching. The Edict of Nantes was not yet 
 revoked. 
 
 Burnet prepared to return home. His friends advised 
 
 12 
 
266 HE FLIES TO THE CONTINENT. 
 
 him not to venture into England, but he replied that he 
 was conscious of no crime. Soon after his return to 
 London, the dislike of the court showed itself openly, 
 and he was forbidden to lecture and preach at the Rolls 
 chapel. 
 
 Charles died. A Roman Catholic, the first since the 
 reign of Philip and Mary, sat on the throne of England. 
 Burnet felt that he was not safe. He availed himself 
 of the lenity which marked the opening of the rule of 
 James to obtain permission to travel. Halifax inter- 
 ceded for him, and he was suffered to depart. James 
 no doubt often regretted that he had allowed the active 
 and popular Scotchman to escape unharmed. 
 
 Burnet fled to the continent. He determined to 
 spend some time in travelling. But the continent pre- 
 sented a mournful, disheartening spectacle to the Pro- 
 testant divine. Everywhere he beheld the persecution 
 and decline of his own faith, the triumph of his oppo- 
 nents. 
 
 The year 1685 was a fatal one for Protestantism. In 
 February a papist ascended the English throne. In 
 June, the elector of the Palatinate became a Catholic. 
 In October, the King of France revoked the Edict of 
 Nantes, and startled, all Protestant Europe by the spec- 
 tacle of a general persecution of his dissenting subjects. 
 
 Continental Protestants bowed their heads in shame 
 and horror. The strongholds of their faith were broken 
 up. England, which had so long awed their enemies, 
 seemed ensnared into their hands. The states of Hoi- 
 
PERSECUTION OF THE PROTESTANTS. 267 
 
 land were intimidated. Calvinistic Geneva trembled 
 for its own independence. While every Protestant city 
 was crdwded with troops of naked and starving fugitives, 
 who had fled from France to bear witness to the bitter- 
 ness of spirit with which the mildest papist viewed their 
 heretical faith. 
 
 At the moment when the persecution of the Pro- 
 testants was at its height, Burnet made a tour through 
 the southern provinces of France. With his usual daring 
 he flung himself in the midst of danger, to observe and 
 to record the sufferings of the church. His mild and 
 tolerant nature glowed with indignation at the horrors 
 which he beheld. Men and women of all ages were 
 stripped of all their property, driven from place to place 
 and hunted like wild beasts. Females were carried into 
 the nunneries to be whipped, starved and barbarously 
 treated. A general rage for persecution seemed to seize 
 upon the Roman Catholics. Persons, who had been 
 long esteemed for their mildness and moderation, now 
 grew furious persecutors. Neighbors, friends, and even 
 relatives, rivalled the barbarities of the Inquisition. 
 Many of the Protestants had been driven to renounce 
 their faith, but they were known by their mournful 
 looks and conscience-smitten countenances ; they walked 
 with downcast glance and hesitating step. They were 
 watched by the persecutors with unceasing vigilance. 
 If they attempted to escape they were stopped by the 
 guards that lined the frontiers. And the men were sent 
 to the galleys, the women to the nunneries. If the 
 
268 FATAL TO LOUIS XIV. 
 
 new converts did not receive the sacrament at death, 
 they were refused the rite of burial. Their bodies were 
 flung out to be devoured by the dogs. 
 
 The persecution of Protestantism in France was the 
 source of the downfall of Louis XIY. It showed Pro- 
 testants of every land what they might expect from the 
 mildest Catholic rule. It warned them of the bitter 
 hatred which lurked beneath the fairest professions of 
 their opponents. If the enlightened, generous and 
 polished Louis was forced by his religious principles to 
 become a persecutor worse than Diocletian, the papist 
 kings of other countries were still more to be distrusted. 
 The news of the dreadful events in France passed over 
 into England. Burnet published an account of his tour 
 and pictured to his countrymen the effects of that vast 
 Inquisition which had been employed to extirpate the 
 Huguenots. He wrote only what he had beheld. But 
 the simple narrative was sufficient. It was what the 
 Englishmen wanted to steel their hearts against the 
 liberal professions of James. "When James demanded 
 toleration as the only mode of opening the way for 
 Popery, his people smiled at his insincerity. When he 
 courted the favor of the dissenters in his designs against 
 the church, they could point to the doom of their Cal- 
 vinistic brethren in France as the test of true papal 
 toleration. The barbarities of Louis roused that feeling 
 of hatred against Romanism in England which opened 
 the way for the success of William. 
 
 Protestants had never been persecutors. No rude 
 
PROTESTANTS NEVER PERSECUTORS. 269 
 
 scene of oppression had ever followed the establish- 
 ment of the liberal faith. "Wherever they ruled over 
 Roman Catholics they, at least, allowed them their 
 liberty and their lives. They treated them, it is 
 true, in that age as a dangerous class, but they did 
 not drive them from their homes, send them to the 
 galleys, or force them by severe penalties to deny 
 their cherished religion. The papist in all Protes- 
 tant countries found a home and a shelter. English- 
 men, therefore, looked upon the conduct of Louis as 
 the more inexcusable. Had he been provoked by the 
 oppressive policy of Protestant kings to retaliate upon 
 his own subjects, they might have seen some excuse for 
 his violence. Or had the French Calvinists plotted 
 against his authority, he would have been yet more 
 pardonable. But there was no excuse. His act was the 
 mere whim of an absolute king, governed by a blind 
 and cruel superstition. It was disapproved of by many 
 liberal Roman Catholics. 
 
 "When Monmouth. was preparing his unfortunate 
 expedition against James, Burnet was in Paris. His 
 friends warned him that he was watched by the court. 
 He carefully avoided all connection with the invaders. 
 In company with Brigadier Stoupe, a Protestant officer 
 in the French service, he made a tour through Italy. 
 
 In those days of intolerance it was a bold thing for the 
 most conspicuous Protestant writer to venture into the 
 heart of the Romish power. Some of his acquaintances 
 cautioned him against the danger of the attempt. 
 
270 BUENET AT ROME. 
 
 Burnetj however, was never timid. His bold and san- 
 guine temperament made him overlook danger, and he 
 entered Italy, where a Protestant was usually sent to 
 the Inquisition, as calmly as he would have walked the 
 streets of Amsterdam. 
 
 His boldness was admired. The famous Protestant 
 writer was received with unusual distinction. When 
 he visited Rome, the pope, Innocent XL, no sooner 
 heard of his arrival than he sent the captain of the Swiss 
 guards to acquaint him that he would give him an audi- 
 ence in bed in order to avoid the ceremony of kissing 
 his toe. Burnet excused himself from an interview. 
 The Cardinals Howard and D'Estres paid him many 
 civilities. Howard showed him the letters which he 
 had received from England, announcing the approaching 
 triumph of his faith. The Catholics were convinced 
 that that seat of their foes was soon about to fall under 
 the power of the church. Yet at Rome the policy of 
 James was condemned. The pope was an enemy of 
 the ambitious Louis, and regretted to see England, the 
 only power that could check his progress, fall so com- 
 pletely into his designs. 
 
 Burnet soon grew intimate with the cardinals. One 
 evening he was present when Cardinal Howard was 
 distributing relics to two French gentlemen. With his 
 customary heedlessness he whispered to the cardinal in 
 English, " that it was surprising that a Protestant of the 
 church of England should be at Rome helping them off 
 with the wares of Babylon." The cardinal smiled and 
 
HE VISITS GENEVA. 271 
 
 repeated the remark in French to the two gentlemen, 
 adding that they should tell their countrymen "how 
 bold were Protestants and how mild Catholics at Rome." 
 Burnet's indiscretion in conversation soon made him 
 looked upon with suspicion. He did not, indeed, com- 
 mence religious discussions, but he was never willing to 
 allow his own side to go undefended. In fact he was a 
 thorough polemic. He loved a religious dispute. It 
 was his favorite mode of attempting conversion. He 
 had proposed it to both James and Charles. He had 
 tried it, though with no flattering result, upon Lady 
 Tyrwhit. It was hardly to be hoped that he could keep 
 silent even at Rome. His indiscreet speeches were 
 reported to the government. And Prince Borghese sent 
 him an intimation to withdraw. 
 
 During this tour he visited the Lutherans at Stras- 
 burg, the Calvinists at Heidelberg, and staid some time 
 at Geneva. Here he found the city crowded with 
 French Huguenots, who had come naked and penniless 
 to crave the aid of their Protestant brethren. The city 
 was alarmed at their numbers and importunity. It 
 feared, too, lest its reception of these unhappy fugitives 
 should bring danger upon itself, and it doubted the 
 support of the Catholic cantons should any difficulty 
 arise. The power of Louis overshadowed the little 
 republic and threatened it with destruction. 
 
 The conduct of the afflicted Protestants was not such 
 as could reassure their friends. Their sectarian differ- 
 ences raged as violently as ever. They were exceed- 
 
272 WILLIAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 ingly strict in all doctrinal matters and loose in conduct. 
 Even the refugees, who had just sacrificed so much for 
 religion, to Burnet did not seem more charitable or more 
 correct. The clergy of Geneva repeated their prayers 
 with indifference, and delighted in long dry sermons 
 that wearied out their hearers. They were very jealous 
 of the smallest difference in doctrine, and were plunged 
 in endless controversies. Such was the discouraging 
 state of Protestantism in all Europe. 
 
 From his tour through Southern Europe Burnet came 
 "back, intending to settle in some part of the Nether- 
 lands. But he received an invitation from the Prince 
 of Orange to come to the Hague. William was well ac- 
 quainted with his character and influence, and was glad 
 of his support. 
 
 William's was a strange nature. He hated society 
 and conversation: he disliked all kinds of amusement 
 except hunting: he seemed altogether cold and pas- 
 sionless. His education had been neglected : he never 
 could submit to restraint. From his instructors he 
 seemed to have learned only the extreme fatalism of 
 Calvin. He fled from business, and was no student. 
 One great passion alone animated his dull existence, 
 the desire to humble Louis XIY. 
 
 "With the cold and reserved prince, Burnet seems to 
 have grown into habits of intimacy. To judge from his 
 own history, he must have succeeded in making "William 
 talk. His first act was to inform him of a plot which 
 had been laid for seizing him, and carrying him into 
 
HIS QUEEN". 273 
 
 France. A Savoyard had noticed that "William was in 
 the habit of riding on the sands of Seheveling, near the 
 sea, with but few attendants. He proposed to land 
 from a small vessel that could lie near the shore ; seize 
 the prince, and carry him on board of the vessel. Wil- 
 liam heard the story with his usual coldness and uncon- 
 cern. But when it was mentioned to his princess, she 
 became alarmed. She directed Fagel and other lead- 
 ing men to be informed of it. The states desired that 
 William in future would use a guard. 
 
 William opened to Burnet his political principles. 
 He said that he disapproved of James's conduct in 
 England. He spoke favorably of the Church of Eng- 
 land, but condemned its severity towards other sects. 
 According to Burnet the silent William held a long 
 conversation with him in the presence of Mary upon 
 the subject of the Church, its ceremonies, history and 
 doctrines. No doubt the burden of the conversation 
 fell to the loquacious Scotchman. 
 
 The queen was more likely to be influenced by 
 Burnet than her husband. Lady Russell had already 
 recommended him to her favor. Mary was religious, 
 charitable and sensible. Her father gave her no allow- 
 ance for the support of her dignity ; nor ever sent her 
 presents and jewels. Yet, she was always liberal to 
 the poor, and maintained her own dignity. She had 
 read much in history and divinity. But with English 
 affairs she was little acquainted. She employed Burnet 
 
 12* 
 
JAMES II. ENRAGED. 
 
 to give lier a full account of the politics of her native 
 island. 
 
 With his old thoughtless ardor, Burnet was no sooner 
 established at the Hague, that he commenced giving 
 advice. He pressed William to increase the fleet of 
 Holland, so as to be ready for any emergency. He 
 prevailed upon him to write a letter to James in favor 
 of the Bishop of London ; and he even ventured to ask 
 the queen what share in the government she wished to 
 assign to William, in case they should obtain the crown 
 of England. 
 
 The favorable reception of Burnet at the Hague 
 aroused against him the hostility of James, while the 
 effect of his later writings increased the anger of the king. 
 Burnet had translated " Lactantius on the death of Per- 
 secutors," a theme which could not be very pleasing to 
 the Catholic powers. And he had, besides, given in his 
 " Tour" a striking evidence of the persecuting spirit of 
 the Roman Catholics. The force of his indignant pic- 
 tures had been felt by every Protestant in England. 
 He had aroused a feeling there such as James could 
 never allay. A new circumstance increased the king's 
 displeasure Burnet was about to marry a lady of large 
 fortune and great influence in Holland. 
 
 The Lady Margaret had died ; and Burnet was now 
 engaged to Mrs. Mary Scott, a descendant, on her 
 father's side, of the Scotts of Buccleugh, and on her 
 mother's, a De Ruyter, connected with many of the 
 
SUBNET'S SECOND WIFE. 275 
 
 noblest families of Gueldres. He seems to have been 
 unusually happy in the choice of his wives ; for the lady 
 was of a pleasing appearance ; painted, drew, and was 
 a perfect musician. She spoke English, French and 
 Dutch. Her understanding was fine, and her temper 
 sweet : her knowledge in religious matters would have 
 become a student of divinity ; and her fortune was un- 
 usually large. In order to marry, Burnet must be 
 naturalized : he made application therefore to the states 
 to become a naturalized citizen of Holland. 
 
 But James resolved to destroy the fair prospects of 
 his adversary: he ordered him to prosecuted for treason. 
 There was no ground for this violent proceeding, except 
 a passage in a letter to the Earl of Middleton, in which he 
 had threatened James with the disclosure of certain pas- 
 sages in his past conduct, and the application which he 
 had made to become a citizen of Holland. Yet, on 
 these grounds a sentence of outlawry was passed against 
 him. A demand was then made to the states that he 
 should be given up to the English government. But 
 the states refused, urging that, according to the law of 
 nations, he was now one of their own citizens, and that 
 they were bound to protect him. Burnet triumphed 
 in the defeat of the king. But Abbeville, the English 
 envoy, boasted that he would carry him away by force ; 
 and James promised a large reward for his apprehen- 
 sion. Burnet received information that 5,000 had 
 been offered to any person that would murder him ; 
 and that a warrant lay ready drawn, but not yet signed, 
 
276 
 
 WILLIAM PKXX. 
 
 in tlie secretary's office in London, for the payment of 
 3,000 to a person not mentioned, who had agreed to 
 seize and destroy him. Yet, the undaunted priest 
 showed no signs of fear : he was as careless among 
 the plots of his enemies as he had been among his 
 congregation at St. Clement's. It was one source of 
 Burnet's safety in those dangerous times, that all men 
 allowed him to be fearless. His audacity startled even 
 his enemies. 
 
 About this time Penn, the famous Quaker, came over 
 to Holland. " He was," says Burnet, " a vain talking 
 man : he had such an opinion of his own power of per- 
 suasion, that he thought no one could resist it." His 
 discourse was tiresome, Burnet thought, rather than per- 
 suasive ; one great talker seldom admires the con- 
 versation of another. He came over with the hope of 
 persuading "William and Mary to approve of the king's 
 measures, and had several long audiences. Burnet was 
 sometimes present. "William was favorable to tolera- 
 tion; but did not think the test could be given up 
 without injury to the Church of England. 
 
 " Many," said Bumet, " thought that Penn was a 
 concealed papist." His intimacy with Petre and Sun- 
 derland gave rise to this report. Burnet and Penn 
 were often together. They both agreed upon the prin- 
 ciple of toleration, and Penn pressed Burnet to come 
 over to England, accept a pardon from James, and 
 assured him of high preferment in the Church. He 
 told Burnet a remarkable prophecy which had been 
 
WILLIAM PREPARES TO INVADE ENGLAND. 277 
 
 made by a man who professed to hold converse with an 
 angel, that in 1688 a change should take place that 
 would astonish the world. The prophecy was fulfilled, 
 but in a manner that Penn little anticipated. And 
 when IB u met, after the revolution, met the Quaker 
 courtier in London, he asked him if that was the event 
 predicted. Penn remembered the prophecy ; was con- 
 fused, and made no reply. 
 
 In 1688 the reign of the direct line of descendants 
 from the unhappy Mary, Queen of Scots, was to end in 
 England. Their careers had been marked only by their 
 faults and their misfortunes. James I. had been 
 despised, and Charles I. beheaded by his subjects. 
 The restored Charles had deluged the nation with 
 immorality, and sought to betray the religion of his 
 people. James IT. had carried the family vices to their 
 highest pitch, and by tyranny at home, and misconduct 
 abroad had destroyed the glory and happiness of his 
 kingdom. It seemed as if a curse rested upon the 
 descendants of Mary, and made them a blight and a 
 disgrace to the land which was stained with her blood. 
 
 A great expedition was prepared in Holland, for 
 the invasion of England, and Bui-net has the credit of 
 being one of its earliest instigators. One of his first 
 counsels to William had been to prepare for a sudden 
 emergency. His busy, active, intriguing temper made 
 him of great use to the prince. His thorough know- 
 ledge of English affairs ; his popularity as a Protestant 
 controversialist ; his wide acquaintance among eminent 
 churchmen and noblemen, made him early one of 
 
278 JAMES UNSUSPICIOUS. 
 
 William's chosen advisers. He was employed to draw 
 Dykvelt's instructions when that minister was sent over 
 to test the temper of Englishmen, and from the success 
 of Dykvelt they were probably drawn well. 
 
 In England, James entertained a strange delusion. 
 He believed himself despotic, when all his authority 
 was gone. He continued to violate the laws of Eng- 
 land, when its army, its people, and its nobility were 
 united in a conspiracy against their popish king. The 
 birth of a son to James, an event which was wont to 
 fill all the realm with joy, hastened the movements of 
 the discontented. So long as Mary had been sole heir 
 apparent to the crown, the Protestants felt that some 
 distant hope of relief from their present dangerous cir- 
 cumstances remained, but when it was announced that a 
 male heir was born, who would doubtless be educated in 
 the principles of his father, there seemed no refuge but 
 in revolution. In their disappointment and despair, 
 Protestants attempted to throw discredit upon the birth. 
 They asserted that James was endeavoring, for the sake 
 of his religion, to palm off upon the nation a supposi- 
 titious child as his own. This scandal was generally 
 believed. Burnet has devoted some pages to its proof 
 and considered the fact of the imposture indisputable. 
 William even laid considerable stress upon it in his 
 address to the people of England. At all events it 
 proves how low had sunk the reputation of the unfor- 
 tunate Stuart, when so many eminent men believed him 
 capable of a gross and intentional imposture. 
 
 England looked to William for relief. Affairs at the 
 
THE EXPEDITION SAILS. 279 
 
 Hague had been managed with unusual prudence. A 
 large fleet and army lay awaiting the summons of the 
 prince. In October the troops went aboard in the 
 Zuyder-Zee. The prince and his court prepared to 
 embark. Burnet saw the princess just before their 
 departure: she seemed depressed. The expedition 
 sailed on the 19th October, and was driven back by a 
 storm. But one ship, however, was lost. Mary ordered 
 prayers to be said four times a day for its success. 
 
 On November 1st it sailed again. A fair wind bore 
 the vast fleet down the British Channel, while the 
 shores on either side were lined with crowds of specta- 
 tors. Just an hundred years had passed since the 
 Armada' had sailed over those waters to carry Popery 
 and the Inquisition into England. And now a second 
 armament approached its shores, under more fortunate 
 auspices, to drive out the last Catholic king. Burnet, 
 one of the chief promoters of the expedition, has 
 described its majestic progress, bearing new principles 
 of government, a liberal monarch, and an assurance of 
 religious freedom, to the British isles. On the 5th the 
 fleet was sheltered in Torbay. Burnet was in the van. 
 On landing he hastened to the prince, who took him 
 heartily by the hand. " Doctor," said he, " what do 
 you now think of predestination?" Burnet replied 
 that "he could never forget the providence of God, 
 which had appeared so signally on this occasion." 
 The prince, usually so cold and reserved, seemed at this 
 moment even cheerful. But he soon relapsed into his 
 usual gravity. 
 
280 FLIGHT OF JAMES II. 
 
 William might well show a momentary excitement. 
 The great object of his life was accomplished. He 
 stood on British ground, invited by the wisest and great- 
 est Englishmen to become the defender of their liberties 
 and their faith. He stood there the champion of Pro- 
 testantism and of liberal government, as Louis XIY. 
 was of despotism and superstition. He felt that he 
 now drew near to the hour wiien Louis should be hum- 
 bled. He saw himself already master of England, and 
 about to form that great European league which should 
 reduce the power of France. This had ever been 
 Willam's ambition. To fight at the head of the allied 
 powers against that monarch who had ravaged his 
 favorite Orange, and pillaged and desolated the fertile 
 fields of Holland, was what William believed to be 
 his destiny, and this destiny was now nearly accom- 
 plished. 
 
 James fled. England was without a king. The 
 great question was everywhere agitated how should the 
 succession be arranged. Halifax proposed that the 
 crown should be given to William, and that after his 
 death it should pass to Mary and Anne. At this pro- 
 position Burnet was indignant. His warm zeal for the 
 absent princess, who was detained in Holland by the 
 severity of the season, would not permit him to keep 
 silent. He said the proposition was an ill return for 
 the patriotic conduct of Mary, that it was unjust and 
 ungrateful, and would meet with wide opposition. He 
 avowed his own resolution to oppose it. And when he 
 believed that it was the secret design of William lie 
 
THE SUCCESSION. 281 
 
 hastened to him and offered to retire from his court 
 rather than be obliged to oppose his wishes. 
 
 But the succession was arranged in a manner that 
 ensured to England liberty and good government. The 
 Revolution of 1688 was accomplished almost without 
 bloodshed and with little popular commotion, yet its 
 influence for the benefit of man has been unbounded. 
 It checked the onward march of Popery, and ensured 
 to the feeble Protestant states of Europe a protector in 
 William. It formed a barrier against the ambitious 
 designs of Louis, and led to those signal triumphs of 
 British arms in the reign of Anne, which prostrated the 
 overgrown power of France. It established in England 
 a political and religious liberty under which the strong 
 intellect of its people has grown up and become fully 
 developed* It reached even America. The tyranny 
 of James had been felt and hated in Massachusetts Bay 
 almost as much as in London. When William brought 
 back liberty to England the principles of freedom flou- 
 rished anew in America. 
 
 In this great revolution Burnet had a leading part. 
 It is impossible to estimate how much influence his 
 earnest advocacy of moderation and liberality had upon 
 the conduct of William, but it must have been great. 
 His impulsive, generous, and heedless nature seems to 
 have won the confidence of the prince. With Mary he 
 was even more a favorite than with her husband. He 
 instructed her in the politics of England, and often 
 guided her in her religious difficulties. Evidently he 
 
282 BURNET MADE BISHOP. 
 
 gained a large influence over the rtfmds of both William 
 and Mary, and imbued them with many of his own 
 opinions in religious and civil affairs. 
 
 In March, 1689, Burnet was made Bishop of Salis- 
 bury. He had so little expectation of this preferment 
 that he had asked the king to give it to his old friend, 
 Dr. Lloyd. The king said it was intended for another 
 person, and soon after nominated Burnet to the see 
 with many obliging expressions. The queen added that 
 she hoped he would now put in practice those notions 
 with which he had 'taken the liberty to entertain her. 
 Archbishop Bancroft refused for some time to consecrate 
 him, but was at last forced by a threat of prsemunire 
 to issue a commission for that purpose. No sooner had 
 Burnet entered the House of Lords than he declared 
 his resolution to support only moderate measures. 
 Burnet had now an opportunity of recommending him- 
 self to the favor of the house of Hannover. When the 
 succession was under discussion William desired him to 
 propose the limitation of the crown to that family. 
 This was not done until some time afterwards, but 
 Burnet's exertions in favor of her cause were acknow- 
 ledged with gratitude by the electress Sophia. She 
 wrote to him several letters expressing her esteem and 
 her hope of one day being able to prove her regard 
 for him. 
 
 Through the reign of William and Mary he conti- 
 nued a favorite. One strange idea, however, possessed 
 his mind, that William reigned by right of conquest. 
 
HIS CONDUCT. 283 
 
 This idea he enforced upon his diocese in a pastoral 
 letter. The letter was burned two years afterwards by 
 order of Parliament, by the common hangman. A 
 doctrine so offensive to the pride of Englishmen was 
 confined, with the single exception of Charles Blount, a 
 free-thinker, to Burnet. Yet it was a strange reverse 
 that one of the last publications of that author, whose 
 history had been honored with the expressed approbation 
 of the Parliament under Charles, should be burnt igno- 
 miniously by the Parliament of William. 
 
 Burnet entered upon the duties of the diocese of 
 Salisbury with the same zeal that had characterized him 
 in his little parish at Saltoun. The bishop was no less 
 devoted than the country clergymen. Since he had 
 fled from Scotland he had mingled in the highest of 
 earthly scenes. He had lived in luxurious courts, sur- 
 rounded by tempters who would gladly have led him to 
 sacrifice his principles at the price of worldly advance- 
 ment. He had resisted the temptation and the flat- 
 tery of kings. He had passed through the scenes 
 of worldly grandeur without a stain upon his piety. 
 He had mingled in fierce political strife, and had 
 joined in planning and carrying out a revolution without 
 ever losing the purity of a priest in the ardor of a poli- 
 tical exile. And now that he came back to resume his 
 professional duties his conduct was marked by the same 
 earnestness and ardor as ever. He had not, like many 
 of his contemporaries, assumed the Episcopal robes only 
 to gratify his idle vanity, and to pass the close of his 
 
284 HIS CONSISTENCY. 
 
 life in indolent dignity ; to appropriate the revenues of 
 his diocese in amassing a great fortune for his children ; 
 or to gain power and influence by exalting the church. 
 But he entered upon a high charge with the simple 
 desire to do good. 
 
 In his diocese he was humane, charitable, moderate 
 and laborious. One of his first acts was to write a work 
 upon Confirmation, a copy of which he sent to every per- 
 son who desired to receive that rite. He preached con- 
 stantly, lie obliged his clergy to reside in their parishes 
 and discountenanced pluralities. Every summer he made 
 a tour through his diocese confirming and preaching. 
 His conduct towards dissenters was so moderate that it 
 gained him many enemies. He permitted a meeting- 
 house to be retained at Salisbury at a time when dis- 
 senters were not allowed to worship openly. His mode- 
 ration is said to have won over many to the church. 
 "When Dr. Reach, a dissenting minister, had incurred 
 prosecution by a sermon which contained treasonable 
 matter, Burnet interceded for him, and obtained his 
 pardon. 
 
 Such was Burnet's consistency. The humane and 
 philosophical principles which he advocated in early 
 life, he continued always to profess in the face of every 
 danger to himself and of the opposition of bitter enemies. 
 So high was the opinion of his generosity and mildness^ 
 that even those who had been most hostile to him, often 
 came to seek his assistance. 
 
 The Earl of Rochester, in the reign of James, had 
 
HE RETURNS TO LITERATURE. 285 
 
 been one of those who had driven Burnet from Eng- 
 land. In the reign of "William he made use of the 
 bishop's influence to save his family estate. " My Lord," 
 wrote the earl to the man he had persecuted, " the good 
 offices your Lordship told me you had endeavoured to do 
 me with the Queen, of your own accord and generosity, 
 incline me to desire to be obliged to your Lordship for 
 presenting the following petition to her Majesty. I 
 should say a great deal to your Lordship for my own 
 confidence in addressing all this to your Lordship, some 
 passages of my life having been such as may very pro- 
 perly give it this name." Again Rochester writes, 
 "Among all her favors (Lady Ranelagh), one that I shall 
 never forget, was her desire and endeavour not only to 
 renew for me the acquaintance I formerly had with your 
 Lordship, but to knit it closer into a friend." This was 
 humble language for the proud earl to use, who not 
 many years before had ruled in the councils of James 
 and Charles. But it is a happy proof of the generosity 
 and good nature of Burnet. He was also of assistance 
 t the Earl of Clarendon and several others of the fallen 
 party. 
 
 Burnet now returned to literature. He wrote with 
 all the ardor of youth. In 1694 died his old friend 
 Archbishop Tillotson, whose funeral sermon he preached. 
 The next year Queen Mary died, and Burnet wrote her 
 " character." In 1698 he lost his second wife by small 
 pox. Finding himself engaged with a family of children, 
 he soon after married again on their account. His third 
 
286 HIS THIRD WIFE. 
 
 wife was Mrs. Berkley, a daughter of Sir Richard Blake. 
 At seventeen she had married Robert Berkley, of "Wor- 
 cester. In James' reign they fled from England, to 
 travel through the United Provinces. The husband 
 
 O 
 
 died in 1693. During her widowhood, Mrs. Berkley 
 commenced writing a " Method of Devotion," which 
 was afterwards published and passed through three edi- 
 tions. And she also employed herself in watching the 
 completion of Worcester Hospital, for which her husband 
 had left a sufficient bequest. She died in 1T07, before 
 Burnet Her life was afterwards written in an account 
 of " British ladies celebrated for their attainments in 
 literature, the arts and sciences." In her will she 
 directed her body to be laid by the side of her first hus- 
 band, the beloved of seventeen. " Not, she adds," out 
 of any want of respect or kindness to my present hus- 
 band, who has by his great kindness deserved from me 
 all the gratitude and acknowledgments of love and 
 respect I can testify." But her heart evidently in the 
 close of life went back and rested with him whom she 
 had loved as a girl. By this lady Burnet had two chil- 
 dren, who died in their infancy. 
 
 His appointment as tutor to the Duke of Gloucester 
 marked the year 1698. The young duke was the heir 
 apparent to the throne. He was the last of seventeen 
 children whom the Princess Anne had lost in their in- 
 fancy. Gloucester alone remained, and his education 
 was a matter of deep interest to the nation. Should he be 
 imbued with those principles which had so fatally marked 
 
HIS TUTOESHIP. 287 
 
 his Stuart ancestors, England would have cause to mourn. 
 Should he inherit the moderation of William, his country 
 would rejoice. Among all the eminent prelates of that 
 time, the king selected Burnet as the person best fitted 
 to form the mind and character of his successor. He 
 knew his sincerity, learning and liberality of opinion, 
 and he felt that should he undertake the office he would 
 perform it with his usual zeal. 
 
 But Burnet, at first, was unwilling to accept it. The 
 duties of the new appointment would interfere with 
 those of his diocese. He declined to take new labors 
 upon himself. He wrote to the Earl of Sunderland to 
 use his influence with William that he might be excused, 
 and to Archbishop Tenison to aid the request. His 
 friends, however, told him that he owed it to the nation, 
 not to decline an office that might hereafter ensure the 
 permanence of his own principles in the state. Burnet 
 at length consented. But he desired leave from "William 
 to resign his bishopric, which he thought must be neg- 
 lected should he continue to hold it. William was 
 surprised. He was not accustomed to such disinterest- 
 edness. He refused to accept Burnet's resignation, and 
 agreed that the duke should reside all summer at Windsor, 
 in the diocese of Salisbury, and that the bishop should 
 be allowed ten weeks every year to visit among his 
 churches. 
 
 The young duke was a diligent scholar. The excel- 
 lence of his disposition was known, and had endeared 
 him to the nation. Burnet's appointment was popular. 
 
288 HIS DEVOTION TO HIS PUPIL. 
 
 An attempt to remove him indeed was made in the 
 House by his ancient enemies the tories, on the pretence 
 that he was a Scotchman, and the author of the unfor- 
 tunate pastoral letter that had been burned by act of 
 Parliament. But the motion was rejected by a great 
 majority. The country rejoiced to see their young prince 
 under the care of that prelate who had hastened the 
 downfall of Popery in England, and had sailed in the van 
 of that expedition which had driven out its popish king. 
 
 Burnet was a good instructor. He taught the duke 
 history, geography, politics and religion. Three hours 
 every day he spent on these subjects, besides overlook- 
 ing his other instructors. He explained to his pupil the 
 forms of government of different countries, the occupa- 
 tions of the people, their trade and manufactures, their 
 advantages and disadvantages. He recounted the his- 
 tories of Greece and Rome and related to him Plutarch's 
 Lives. He conversed with him upon the feudal laws 
 and the Gothic constitutions. These studies seem exten- 
 sive for a boy of nine or ten. Gloucester died in 1700, 
 amid the general regret of the nation. 
 
 Queen Mary, pleased with Burnet's " Pastoral Care," 
 had urged him to write an " exposition of the thirty-nine 
 articles." This work, which was now published, was 
 denounced by the lower house of the convocation of 
 clergy but was defended by the upper. Tenison, Sharp, 
 Stillingneet and Lloyd united in applauding it. In 1704 
 Burnet proposed a plan for the augmentation of small 
 livings, which was afterwards passed by Parliament. 
 
HIS RETIREMENT. 289 
 
 The year 1706 was marked by the rapid publication of 
 sermons, pamphlets, an exposition of the church cate- 
 chism and other writings. His mind still retained its 
 amazing fertility. 
 
 About five or six years before his death he grew 
 weary of the busy world and withdrew to a residence 
 in St. John's Court, Clerkenwell. Here he would see 
 only his particular friends; but these were the most 
 eminent men of the time. Here came the dukes of 
 Marlborough and Newcastle, the earls of Godolphin and 
 Halifax, and many others of rank or eminence, to con- 
 verse with the great revolution bishop. The conversa- 
 tion of such a man must have been remarkable. He 
 had seen and been familiar with more men of real great- 
 ness than almost any other man of his time. He had 
 shared in all those scenes of danger and of triumph 
 which now formed the boast of Englishmen. His 
 memory was strong and ready. He talked fluently, 
 though with the broad Scotch accent. He had a sharp 
 eye for the defects of others, although none for his own. 
 His learning was of a wide yet popular character that 
 could never seem pedantic. And his hasty and earnest 
 speech must have carried along his listeners as his bold 
 extemporary eloquence had charmed the crowded con- 
 gregations of the city. 
 
 He had good health to the end of life. " His large, 
 bold-looking" frame endured labors and studies without 
 failing. His habits were unusually regular. He rose 
 at five in summer and six in winter. The first two 
 
 13 
 
290 HIS CHARITIES. 
 
 hours of each day and the last half-hour were invariably 
 spent in religious meditation. He always read morning 
 and evening prayers to his family. Six or eight hours 
 of each day were passed in his study. His table was 
 plain, plentiful and cheerful, his equipage simple, and 
 all his expenses moderate. In his family he was kind 
 to his servants and perhaps too indulgent to his children. 
 
 His charities were secret and extensive. He set apart 
 500 yearly for this purpose, but often exceeded that 
 amount. He delighted to aid distressed clergymen, 
 their widows and children. Besides maintaining a 
 charity school for fifty children, at Salisbury, he aided 
 many others. His benevolence extended to all parties. 
 When Martin, of his own diocese, resigned his prebend 
 after the revolution, because he could not conscientiously 
 take the necessary oaths, the bishop allowed him half 
 its yearly value until his death. 
 
 Burnet remained ever an unfailing whig, and he was 
 one of the most active of his party. He seemed to think 
 that religion was not inconsistent with party bitterness. 
 His political writings are a better proof of his sincerity 
 than of his impartiality. However generous he might 
 be in act towards his political opponents he never spares 
 them in word. He can see the slightest defects of a 
 tory. He paints their characters not, indeed, with the 
 coarseness or bitterness of Swift, but with a general 
 disapproval in which his strokes of praise are almost 
 lost. He never forgot to associate them with the days 
 of the popish plot and the tyranny of James. To be one 
 
THE WHIGS. 291 
 
 of that party was to long for the return of the pretender 
 and arbitrary rule. They were, necessarily, cruel, 
 bigoted and tyrannical. Nor was this impression 
 strange. He who had seen the persecution of the Cove- 
 nanters in the lowlands, the violent policy of Charles 
 and James, the support which the tories had given to 
 those monarchs in their harshest measures, could not 
 fail to dread their return to power. 
 
 But in the whig party Burnet had cause for sympathy 
 and triumph. It represented his own moderate princi- 
 ples. It spoke of toleration to the dissenter and charity 
 to the churchman, of liberty to the king and self-respect 
 to the people. It had attained wonderful success, and 
 in all its triumph Burnet had shared. It had brought 
 over liberal sentiments of government with William and 
 had ensured their continuance by a proper limitation 
 of the crown. It had decided that no papist should 
 ever after sit on the throne of England. It had restored 
 the ancient glory of the nation. Britain, from a depen- 
 dency of Louis XIV., had risen up to strike down that 
 mighty champion of despotism in humiliation and dis- 
 may. The whig commander, Marlborough, had inflicted 
 such fatal blows upon France as she had not felt since 
 the days of Agincourt and Cressy. France lay prostrate 
 at the feet of the whig party of England, suing for a 
 disgraceful peace. But this was not the highest merit 
 of the whigs in the eyes of Burnet. They had saved 
 Protestantism. Once more, as in the reign of the bold 
 Elizabeth, Protestants everywhere looked for support to 
 
292 THEIR FALL. 
 
 England. Once more his native country formed the 
 centre of a grand league for freedom of thought. So 
 long as England was ruled by whigs, the sectaries of 
 Geneva and Amsterdam might pursue their endless 
 quarrels without a fear of being abandoned to the mercy 
 of their Catholic neighbors. 
 
 But in 1710 the whig party was about to fall. Its 
 leaders had been so long used to power that they 
 believed themselves its necessary possessors. Marl- 
 borough and Godolphin, Sunderland and Somers were 
 names almost as weighty in England as that of the 
 queen. Anne grew jealous of her great subjects. She 
 entertained something of the old spirit of the Stuarts, 
 and could hardly feel herself a queen while she was 
 governed by a faction. She resolved to dismiss the 
 haughty whigs and bring into power their more sub- 
 servient opponents. 
 
 Burnet heard of her intention and trembled for his 
 country. His honest zeal against toryism blazed forth 
 again with his ancient ardor. He believed the nation 
 was about once more to be delivered into the hands of 
 Popery and the Stuarts, and he hastened to remonstrate 
 against the purpose of the queen. 
 
 Anne saw him and heard his remonstrance. He 
 spoke to her with the same bold plainness with which 
 he had spoken to Charles and James and William. He 
 told her there was a report that she was about to favor 
 the Jacobites ; that if she were indeed about to make 
 such a bargain for delivering up her people she would 
 
LITERATURE REIGNS WITH ANNE. 293 
 
 darken the close of a glorious reign; that she would 
 open the way for a popish successor. He urged that 
 the present ministry had served her with fidelity and 
 with such success that their removal would astonish the 
 world. He suggested that should she name a papist as 
 her successor the Jacobites would take means to destroy 
 her life in order to hasten the triumph of her cause. 
 Anne heard him patiently. She said little. She even 
 seemed to assent. But her measures soon after proved 
 how little effect he had produced. His party was turned 
 contemptuously out of office, as if Anne delighted to 
 humble those proud spirits who had so long governed 
 their queen. 
 
 Literature reigned with Anne. No sooner had the 
 party of Addison and Steele gone out of power than the 
 scholar-like Harley and the gifted Bolingbroke united 
 in gathering round them a circle equally brilliant. 
 Swift and Pope, Prior, Parnell and Gay, were the ad- 
 visers and confidants of the new ministry. Friendship 
 grew up between the great lords and the greater poets, 
 which lasted with their lives. Offices, pensions and 
 gifts of considerable sums were showered upon the 
 literary men of the day. " Little Harrison," an inferior 
 poet, received " the prettiest place in Europe," and 
 Swift never found his ministerial friends weary of listen- 
 ing to his solicitations for the rising author, or in giving 
 aid to starving poets. Even party yielded to the claims 
 of letters ; and Congreve and Steele, both whigs, were 
 kept in office by their generous opponents. 
 
294 SWIFT. 
 
 Swift was the chief source of tins literary enthusiasm. 
 He became the untiring friend of every man of genius. 
 He made the fame and fortune of Pope, Parnell, and 
 Gay, and aided all who seemed deserving. He im- 
 pressed upon the ministry the dignity of literature, and 
 upon the author eminence of those intellectual traits by 
 which he was raised above mankind. And he has such 
 claims to the regard of men of letters of every age, that 
 they have united in veiling the harsher traits of his 
 character under a halo of generous respect. 
 
 Swift revelled in sarcasm. He delighted to pierce his 
 foe by the strokes of most delicate irony, or the coarse 
 blow of bitter satire. He was the wittiest writer of an 
 age of wits. In the reign of Anne every one wrote 
 satires. They were the favorite weapons of the time. 
 Addison, humorous and mild, could grow sarcastic in 
 the " Freeholder." The melancholy Parnell could assail 
 a whig with a gay bitterness that almost shocks the ear 
 in w T hich yet rings the pathetic melody of the " Hermit." 
 Pope amused his leisure with contriving tortures for 
 Curl or John Dennis, and embodied the spirit of his 
 age in his memorable " Dunciad." Montague and Prior 
 had grown famous by a satirical song. Bolingbroke and 
 Harley amused themselves at the cost of the Whigs. 
 Pasquinades, burlesques, parodies, and every species of 
 satire, flew from hand to hand, and governed popular 
 opinion. 
 
 It was unfortunate for Burnet that he lived in such 
 an age. His weakness of character laid him open to a 
 
BURNET THE BUTT OF THE DAY. 295 
 
 thousand attacks. The whole circle of tory wits fast- 
 ened upon him as their lawful prey. The good bishop 
 fell into the hands of a thousand tormentors who showed 
 him no pity. His indiscretions in conversation were 
 told with pleasant exaggeration from courtier to cour- 
 tier, until the whole drawing-room was convulsed with 
 laughter. His apparent vanity, his bustling self-im- 
 portance were sure marks for satire. His three rich 
 wives, his dissipated son, his blind hatred for toryism, 
 his partiality for dissenters, even his visits to "Wilmot's 
 victim and Charles's dying mistress were not spared by 
 the untiring wits. 
 
 His indiscretions in conversation were exceedingly 
 ludicrous. When he was in Paris the Countess of Sois- 
 eons, the mother of the Prince Eugene, and several 
 other ladies, had been imprisoned on charge of poison- 
 ing. The prince afterwards came over to visit England. 
 Burnet asked Marlborough to give him an opportunity 
 of meeting the prince. At the dinner, to which he was 
 in consequence invited, he resolved to sit silent and un- 
 known. Eugene, seeing a dignified clergyman among 
 the guests, asked who he was ; and, learning that it was 
 Burnet, of whom he had heard so much, addressed him, 
 asking him when he was last in Paris. Burnet had for- 
 gotten the year. He hesitated ; and then replied with 
 more than his usual mal-adroitness, " that he believed 
 it was the year when the Countess de Soissons had been 
 imprisoned." His eyes suddenly met those of the Duke 
 of Marlborougb : he felt his mistake ; was confused, and 
 then redoubled his fault by asking pardon of the prince. 
 
296 HIS BLUNDERS. 
 
 The whole company was embarrassed, and the unlucky 
 prelate, covered with confusion, fled from the room in 
 dismay. Once, when Lady Stair had introduced Mr. 
 James Lindsay, the last earl of Balcarras, to him, he 
 asked her in the midst of a large company " What had 
 become of that wicked wretch, Lady "Wigton?" She 
 was the sister of Balcarras. 
 
 Such were the stories told of his habitual blunders. 
 It is easy to imagine how the tories enjoyed these petty 
 discomfitures of their great foe. How Arbuthnot and 
 Pope, and Swift, all alive to the ludicrous, and over- 
 flowing with party zeal, would rejoice to make the 
 famous whig a laughing-stock to his contemporaries. 
 
 Burnet was indeed fallen. Under the rule of the 
 triumphant tories he lived in constant humiliation and 
 distrust. He feared that the great work which had been 
 accomplished at the revolution, was to be undone by 
 the reigning faction. On all sides he heard avowed 
 doctrines of passive obedience, and of hatred to the 
 moderates, almost as violent as those which had marked 
 the reign of James. He believed that within the heart 
 of the ruling party a project was forming almost as ter- 
 rible to Englishmen as that which Oates and Dangerfield 
 had professed to reveal. He was certain that many 
 powerful statesmen were engaged to bring back the 
 popish pretender. He feared that the design was 
 neither unknown nor disapproved of b;y the queen. 
 These opinions were shared by all the whigs, although 
 in Burnet they were probably more violent than in any 
 other man. Popery was to him a constant terror. He 
 
297 
 
 could not think of it without horror. And when he 
 believed that the fatal thing was about to be brought 
 back to that country from which he had thought it 
 expelled for ever, his sermons and his pen grew as 
 sharp against the tories as when he had exhorted at 
 the Rolls chapel against the secret wiles of Charles. 
 
 The tories turned aside his blows with ridicule. Even 
 the gentle Parnell grew angry to hear his friends 
 called Jacobites and papists. Those who remember 
 his fine lines to his patron Bolingbroke, will be pleased 
 to learn how he could treat his foes. He tells in verse 
 the following story of Burnet : 
 
 " From that dread hour, bane of Sarum's pride, 
 Which broke his schemes, and laid his friends aside, 
 He talks, he writes that Popery will return, 
 And we and he and all his writings burn. 
 What touched himself was almost faithful proved, 
 (Oh, far from Britain be the rest removed ); 
 For as of late he meant to bless the age 
 With flagrant prefaces of party rage. 
 O'erweighed with passion and the subject's weight, 
 Lolling, he nodded o'er his elbow seat, 
 Down fell the candle ; grease and zeal conspire ; 
 Heat meets with heat, and pamphlets burn their fire. 
 Here crawls a preface on its half-burnt maggots, 
 And then an introduction brings its faggots ; 
 Here roars the prophet of the northern nation 
 Close by a flaming speech on moderation. 
 Unwarned by these, go on the realm to fright 
 Thou Briton, boasting of thy second-sight. 
 In such a crisis may you safely tell 
 How much you'd suffer if religion fell. 
 
 13* 
 
298 POPE AND SWIFT ON BUKNET. 
 
 The author of the Hermit was evidently no satirist. 
 His feeble ridicule leaves no wound. It wants the 
 poison with which Swift and Pope touched their shafts. 
 But Burnet was now busy with his History of his Own 
 Times. The nature of this work had gone abroad, 
 although it had not been published. Its violent whig 
 doctrines, its unfavorable mention of his leading oppo- 
 nents, the artless vanity of the author, his personal de- 
 tails of his wives, his acquaintances, his relatives, and the 
 share he had taken in the events of several reigns, 
 were well known to his friends and foes. He seems 
 to have been singularly indiscreet in showing the me- 
 moirs. His design was that they should not be pub- 
 lished until six years after his death. And yet Pope 
 was enabled to write while Burnet was yet living a 
 parody so amusingly accurate, that he seems to have 
 been acquainted with their most insignificant charac- 
 teristics. 
 
 The " Memoirs of P. P., Clerk of this Parish," did not 
 appear until 1727, although written long before. They 
 were printed in that laughable, indecent and inhuman 
 volume of Miscellanies of which Pope and Swift were 
 not ashamed to confess publicly the authorship. P. P., 
 like Burnet, writes the history of his times. The satire 
 upon Burnet's political narrative is exact. "After this 
 the book (the Parish Clerk's Memoirs) is turned 011 a 
 sudden from his own life to a history of all the public 
 transactions of Europe, compiled from the newspapers 
 of tjiose times. I could not comprehend the meaning 
 
THE WIITG3 IN OFFICE. 299 
 
 of this, till I perceived at last, to my no small astonish- 
 ment, that all the measures of the four last years of 
 the Queen, together with the peace of Utrecht, which 
 have usually been attributed to the Earl of Oxford, Duke 
 of Ormond, Lords Harcourt and Bolingbroke, and other 
 great men, do here most plainly appear to have been 
 wholly owing to Robert Jenkin, Amos Turner, George 
 Pilcocks, Thomas White, but above all P. P." 
 
 A gleam of triumph cheered the closing years of the 
 great whig prelate. The rule of the tories ended with 
 the life of Anne. Her sudden death brought ruin upon 
 that party. If Burnet had been revengeful, his utmost 
 malice might have been satisfied with the doom of his 
 opponents. But those eminent men whom he had so 
 feared as concealed Jacobites and papists, now only 
 merited his compassion. The amiable, accomplished, 
 and indolent Oxford was a prisoner in the Tower, trem- 
 bling for his head. Bolingbroke, more guilty, had fled 
 attainted and impoverished to France. Prior was a 
 prisoner with Oxford. And Swift, so lately the pride 
 of letters, the ruling mind of his time, had now shrunk 
 back moody and misanthropic to his deanery in Dublin, 
 hoping to escape in insignificance the fury of his foes. 
 
 The Hanoverian family were warm friends to Burnet. 
 He had long corresponded with the electress Sophia. 
 George I. was a revolution king, whose title and whose 
 principles had been determined by that act of settlement 
 in which Burnet had had so large a share. Among the 
 great whig lords who now hastened to greet the royal 
 
600 HIS DEATH. 
 
 head of that party, none was more welcome than he. 
 Bnrnet now published a third volume of his History of 
 the Reformation, a kind of appendix to that work. 
 Perhaps in this hour of triumph he delighted to recur 
 to these labors of earlier days which he believed to have 
 greatly aided the success of Protestantism in England. 
 
 At all events he could now die in peace. No trace 
 of a coming storm could even his vigilant eye discover 
 upon the fair horizon of England. The last popish plot 
 had been defeated. The Jacobites were in prison or 
 exile. A whig king sat upon the throne. The dread 
 of Popery which had pursued him all his life through 
 must have faded at last for ever. His vocation was over. 
 He had no plots to unravel, no Jesuits to encounter, no 
 dismal pictures to draw of the triumph of Popery in 
 Britain. He was seized with a cold and fever. His 
 relative, the eminent Cheyne, with Sir Hans Sloane, 
 attended him, but could not save him. He died March 
 27, 1714-15, in the seventy-second year of his age, calm, 
 peaceful, and happy, engaged to the last in religious 
 exercises, and taking an affectionate leave of his family. 
 He was buried at St. James, Clerkenwell, London. In 
 his will he directed that the "History of his Own 
 Times" should not be published until six years after his 
 death, and should then be given to the world entire. 
 He would have none of it suppressed. 
 
 The Earl of Halifax, a wit, a nobleman, a statesman, 
 and a fine writer, has recorded in few lines the character 
 of his friend. " Dr. Burnet," says Halifax, " is, like all 
 
HALIFAX GIVES HIS CHARACTER. 301 
 
 men who are above the ordinary level, seldom spoken 
 of in a mean ; he must either be hated or admired. He 
 has a swiftness of imagination that no other comes up to. 
 His friends love him too well to see his small faults, or 
 if they do, think that his greater talents give him a 
 privilege of straying from the strict rules of censure. 
 He produces so fast that what is w^ll said in his writings 
 calls for admiration ; and what is incorrect deserves an 
 excuse. He is not quicker in discerning other men's 
 faults than he is in forgiving them. All the repeated 
 provocations of his adversaries have had no other effect 
 than the setting his good nature in so much better light, 
 since his anger never yet went further than to pity them. 
 His quickness makes writing so easy a thing for him that 
 his spirits are neither wasted nor soured by it. The 
 soil is not forced, everything grows and brings forth 
 without pain. He makes many enemies by setting an 
 ill-natured example of living which they are not willing 
 to follow. His indifference to preferment ; his contempt 
 not only of splendor but of all unnecessary plenty ; his 
 degrading himself to the lowest and most painful duties 
 of his calling, are such unprelatical qualities that, let 
 him be never so orthodox in other things, in these he 
 must be a dissenter. Yirtues of such a stamp are so 
 many heresies in the opinion of those divines who have 
 so softened the primitive injunctions so as to make them 
 suit better with the present frailties of mankind. Xo 
 wonder, then, if they are angry, since it is in their own 
 defence, or that from a principle of self-preservation 
 
302 HIS FAMILY. 
 
 they should endeavor to suppress a man whose party is 
 a shame, and whose life is a scandal to them." 
 
 By his second wife Burnet left three sons and two 
 daughters. The fate of the latter is unknown, but the 
 former inherited something of their father's abilities. 
 William, the eldest, was so dull in youth that it was be- 
 lieved he would never rise to any eminence. But when 
 he was about nineteen his mind began to unfold itself. 
 Burnet was unusually careful of his children's education. 
 He provided them with private tutors at a considerable 
 expense, sent them as gentlemen commoners to the uni- 
 versities, then allowed them to finish their studies at 
 Ley den, and afterwards permitted them to travel for 
 two or three years abroad. "William became a lawyer. 
 He held a place under the whigs of 1,200 a year, but 
 suffered severely by the South Sea scheme. He was 
 then appointed governor of New York and New Jersey. 
 From thence he was removed to the government of 
 Massachusetts. He entered Boston in great pomp, but 
 soon fell into disputes with the people by adhering 
 rigidly to his instructions. These difficulties &eemed to 
 wear upon his health. He soon after died of a fever, 
 amid the regret of the people, who respected while they 
 opposed him. His descendants are still found in America, 
 and several have become eminent. Gilbert, the second 
 son, inherited his father's virtues as well as name. He 
 died early, before he had an opportunity of distinguish- 
 ing himself. 
 
 The third, Thomas, was one of the gay rakes of the 
 
THOMAS BUBNET. 303 
 
 time. He studied law at the Temple ; his associates, 
 it was rumored, were the wild debauchees who, under 
 the name of Mohocks and Scourers, infested the streets 
 of London at night, attacking the watchmen and insult- 
 ing passengers ; who amused themselves by rolling old 
 women in empty hogsheads and running their swords 
 through passing chairs. But his talents were far above 
 those of his brothers. In the midst of his dissolute 
 career he wrote several pieces in defence of the whigs.' 
 One day his father, seeing him grave and silent, asked 
 him what he was meditating. "A greater work," 
 replied the graceless son, " than your lordship's His- 
 tory of the Reformation my own reformation." "I 
 shall be heartily glad of it," said the bishop, "but 
 almost despair to see it." After his father's death 
 Thomas became an eminent lawyer and writer. In 
 1734: he published an edition of Burnet's History of his 
 Own Times, with an excellent life of his father at the 
 close. He was knighted, and died a justice of the 
 common pleas. 
 
 Burnet's whole life was singularly prosperous. Amid 
 the troubled scenes through which he passed, he 
 escaped safe from every danger and rose 'over every 
 difficulty. His course was ever upward, and it was 
 unusually rapid. In youth he gained a reputation that 
 spread over Scotland, and recommended him to the 
 English court. His manhood gave him a weighty 
 influence such as few others beside him possessed. The 
 parish priest of Saltoun had become one of the great 
 
304 
 
 lights of his time. He was tempted to desert his 
 principles, by the offer of a bishopric, before he was 
 thirty-five, and was sustained in his resistance to the 
 temptation by the applause of the great body of his 
 countrymen. In age Burnet was the adviser and 
 companion of kings. One of the famous names of 
 Europe. The source of this advancement was labor. 
 His life was one of endless toil. He never was satisfied 
 in repose. His remarkable mental activity found 
 relief in unceasing study, in a great profusion of 
 writing, in devotion to the duties of his party and his 
 religion. 
 
 In his activity, his versatility, his love of literature, 
 of scientific experiments, of politics, and of his profes- 
 sion, he must remind the reader of Lord Brougham. 
 In character they are remarkably alike. Both are 
 known as impetuous, restless, good-natured men, 
 learned, inquisitive, and eccentric. In his political 
 tendencies and his zeal for education, his ardor for 
 religious and civil liberty, Burnet was not surpassed by 
 the gifted modern. A history of his own times from 
 the pen of Brougham would reflect, though in a 
 polished way, the leading features of that of his coun- 
 tryman. 
 
 feFs~writings are ' still popular. His History 
 of the Reformation is in the hands of every student of 
 religious progress. The lives of Hale and Wilmot are 
 widely read. The History of his Own Times is a work 
 of unusual interest. Even its great faults lend it a 
 
HIS STYLE. 305 
 
 peculiar charm. The ^nnocenLj^anit^ the earnest 
 sincerity, his fear and hatred of tory .principles, his 
 blind approval of those of the whigs, lend to Burnet's 
 narrative a vigor and an artlessness that win the 
 attention of the reader. His learning, upon any single 
 topic, was not great, but his knowledge extended over 
 a wide circle of subjects peculiarly well suited to the 
 designs upon which lie entered. His_chief works had 
 a political and controversial bearing. They were 
 intended to serve the purposes of his party in the gov- 
 ernment or the church. They were written hastily, and 
 seem rather to satisfy the understanding than the 
 taste. It is a sufficient test, therefore, of his real 
 ability, that notwithstanding many faults, they have 
 attained a reputation with posterity that has not yet died 
 out. 
 
 His style was at times so coarse as to merit all the 
 severity of Swift's remarks. It was disfigured by 
 Scotticisms of the broadest character and of vulgarisms 
 that might well countenance the suspicion of the critic 
 that he must have learned them in low company. 
 Some of Swift's remarks upon his unfortunate phrases 
 may amuse the reader. Says Burnet : " "When the 
 peace of Breda was concluded, the king writ to the 
 Scottish council, and communicated that to them and 
 with that signified that it was his pleasure that the 
 army should be disbanded." Swift : " Here are four 
 thats in one line." 
 
 Burnet : " Home was convicted on the credit of one 
 
306 
 
 evidence. Applications, 'tis true, were made to the 
 duke of York for saving his life ; but he was not born 
 under a pardoning planet" Swift : " Silly fop !" 
 
 Burnet : " Thus Cromwell had all the king's party in 
 a net; he let them dance in at pleasure, and upon 
 occasions, clapt them up for a short time !" 
 
 Burnet : " Their discourses were long and heavy ; 
 all was pyebald, full of many sayings of different lan- 
 guages." Swift : " A noble epithet ! How came 
 Burnet not to learn this style? He surely neglected 
 his own talents." The phrases for a court ; a pardoning 
 planet ; clapt up ; left in the lurch ; the mob ; outed ; a 
 great beauty ; went roundly to work ; Swift collects as 
 a few of the beauties of Burnet's style. But Burnet 
 looked upon mere style as of little importance so long 
 as his arguments fell clear and weighty upon his oppo- 
 nents and his facts sustained his arguments. He 
 despised that laborious nicety with which the fine 
 writers of his time selected their language and softened 
 their periods. In his hurried and earnest writing he 
 had no time for the exercise of taste, even had he 
 possessed it. But he had none. He was not conscious 
 of his own faults. It is doubtful whether he could feel 
 the beauty of Addison's writings or appreciate the 
 simplicity of Swift. It was no wonder, therefore, that 
 the literary men of the time were unwilling to admit 
 Burnet among their number ; that they looked upon his 
 coarse and careless writing as the vain attempt of a 
 tasteless pedant to join the ranks of the immortals ; 
 
EXAMPLES OF HIS STYLE. 307 
 
 that they pursued him with shouts of ridicule and con- 
 tempt which have come down even to posterity and have 
 deprived him of much of that real esteem which would 
 otherwise have been his reward. 
 
 Yet there are times when Burnet writes in a man- 
 ner not unworthy of his severe critic, Swift. There 
 is, in fact, a strong similarity between the better parts 
 of Burnet's writing and that of the eminent dean. He 
 often attains a simple strength almost tasteful. I add a 
 few examples of his purer style. He thus notices 
 the effect of a depraved theatrical taste. 
 
 " The stage is the great comiptor of the town and 
 the bad people of the town had been the chief cor- 
 ruptors of the stage, who run most after those plays 
 that defile the stage and the audience. Poets will seek 
 to please, as actors will look for such pieces as draw 
 most spectators. They pretend their design is to dis- 
 courage vice, but they really do recommend it in the 
 most effectual manner. It is a shame to our nation and 
 religion to see the stage so reformed in France and so 
 polluted still in England. Moliere for comedy, and 
 Racine for tragedy, are great patterns ; few can, as few 
 will care to, copy after them. But till another such 
 appears, certainly our plays are the greatest debauchers 
 of the nation." 
 
 He relates his impressions of the kings and queens he 
 had known/ " I have had the honor to be admitted to 
 much free conversation with five of our sovereigns, 
 King Charles the Second, King James, King William 
 
308 CHAELES II. AXD WILLIAM II. 
 
 III., Queen Mary and Queen Anne. King Charles' 
 behavior was a thing never enough to be commended ; 
 he was a perfectly well-bred man, easy of access, free 
 in his discourse, and sweet in his whole deportment ; 
 this was managed with great art and it concealed bad 
 designs : it was of such use to him that it may teach 
 succeeding princes of what advantage an easiness of 
 access and an obliging behavior may be ; and it often 
 dissipated those resentments which his ill conduct in 
 acting, both public and private, possessed all thinking 
 people with very early and all sorts of people at last. 
 And yet none could go to him but they were in a great 
 measure softened before they left him. It looked like 
 a charm that could hardly be resisted, yet there was no 
 good nature under that nor was there any truth in him. 
 King James had great application to business, but with- 
 out a right understanding : that application gave him a 
 reputation till he came to office. If he had not come 
 after Charles he would have passed for a prince of sweet 
 temper and easy of access. King William was the 
 reverse of all these ; he was scarcely accessible and was 
 always cold and silent; he minded affairs abroad so 
 much and was so set on the war that he scarce thought 
 of the government at home. This raised a general 
 disgust, which was improved by men of ill designs until 
 it perplexed all his affairs and he could scarcely restrain 
 the torrent at home while he w^as the adviser of all 
 abroad. Queen Mary was affable, cheerful and lively, 
 spoke much and yet was under great reserve, minded 
 
CHIEF DEFECT OF HIS WHITINGS. 309 
 
 business and came to understand it well ; she kept close 
 to rules, chiefly to those set her by the king ; and she 
 charmed all that came near her. Queen Anne is easy 
 of access and hears every thing very gently ; but opens 
 herself to so few, and is so cold and general in her 
 answers, that people soon find that the chief application 
 is to be made to her ministers and favorites, who in 
 their turns have entire credit and full power with her. 
 She has laid down the splendor of a courtier too much, 
 and eats privately, so that, except on Sundays and a few 
 hours twice or thrice a week at night, in her drawing- 
 room, she appears so little, that her court is, as it were, 
 abandoned." 
 
 ""The chief defect of Burnet's writings is their want of 
 sensibility. He never touches the feelings. Even the 
 most affecting details come from his pen with a coldness 
 that robs them of half their effect. It was impossible 
 for him to write the history of the sufferings of England 
 and Scotland under the Stuarts, without relating many 
 circumstances in themselves singularly pathetic, but he 
 never aims nor had he the power to weave these details 
 into a moving and graceful picture. He could not 
 narrate the miserable doom of the Protestants under 
 Louis XI Y., nor recount the last moments of Russell or 
 of Stafford, without some show of emotion; but the 
 sympathy of the writer is surpassed by that of his 
 reader. With this want of sensibility was joined an 
 absence of the imaginative power and a thorough 
 dislike to poetry. In Dryden he could only see "a 
 
310 BUKNET AS AX OBATOK. 
 
 monster of immorality and impiety of all sorts." He 
 calls the author of Alma "one Prior" and relates with 
 something of exultation that he had been " taken from 
 a tavern." Of Yirgil his opinion would coincide with 
 that of many moderns. He thinks him rather an 
 eloquent versifier than a poet. 
 
 Yet, though without imagination, or taste, or poetical 
 power, Burnet became a great orator, the most famous 
 in England. His sermons attracted vast audiences, who 
 signified their satisfaction, as was the custom then, by 
 subdued applause. Often when he seemed about to 
 close, they would encourage him to continue by a 
 louder demonstration. They were never tired listening 
 to one who could so fix their attention. Burnet's power 
 lay in the unusual strength of his convictions. He 
 spoke with the ardor of one who believed every word 
 that he uttered. His hatred to Popery, to arbitrary 
 principles, and to oppression of every kind, in those 
 dangerous times, animated his unpolished extemporary 
 eloquence with a warmth almost superhuman. With 
 none of the arts of a polished orator and with a mal- 
 adroitness that was often ludicrous and embarrassing, he 
 still retained much of his influence as a speaker when 
 in the house of peers. His commanding figure and 
 voice, his reputation for learning, his sincerity and 
 moderation united with his energetic warmth in atoning 
 for his other deficiencies. And friends and foes agreed 
 in pronouncing him one of the greatest orators of tho 
 age of Massillon and Bourdaloue. 
 
HIS LIBERAL PRINCIPLES. 311 
 
 As a man of letters, the character in which he must 
 be content to live among posterity, stripped of his high 
 offices and his royal and noble associations, Burnet can 
 neither take a very high nor a very low position. He 
 wants many of the first requisites of the great writer, a 
 pleasing style, a refined taste, a delicate sensibility. 
 His histories are arranged without art, and with none 
 of those philosophic views which indicate a reflective 
 power. He thought justly but not deeply ; he wrote 
 clearly but too hastily ; and the only trait that will give 
 vitality to his writings is the constancy with which they 
 defend freedom of thought in politics and religion. 
 
THOMAS FULLEE. 
 
 THOMAS FULLEE, tlie author of an. Ecclesiastical His- 
 tory, was born in Northamptonshire. His father, a 
 respectable clergyman, sent him to Cambridge, where 
 he studied under the care of a maternal uncle, Dr. 
 Davenant, afterwards Bishop of Salisbury. Destined 
 for the Church, Fuller's religious feelings early displayed 
 themselves in a poem upon the sin and repentance of 
 Xing David. This poem became widely known among 
 his contemporaries, and was liberally praised. It was 
 printed at London 1651, in 8vo. Fuller was also a 
 popular preacher, and no doubt kept his audience awake 
 by the same play of conceits and affected brilliancy that 
 mark his historical writings. In 1631 he was named 
 prebendary of the Cathedral of Salisbury, and soon after 
 became rector of Broad Winsor in Dorsetshire. His 
 first historical work, the History of the Holy "War, em- 
 bracing an account of the Crusades from the first of those 
 wild adventures in 1096, to the final one in 1290, ap- 
 peared in 1640 at Cambridge, and was well received. 
 It passed through many editions. ISTot long after, Fuller 
 
THE CIVIL WAJR. 313 
 
 was called to London, and named preacher at the Savoy. 
 His literary fame and his popular oratory drew crowds 
 wherever he appeared ; he became one of the most dis- 
 tinguished divines of the time, and everything seemed 
 to promise for him the highest preferment in the church. 
 
 At this moment broke out that fearful civil war which 
 disappointed the hopes of Englishmen for so long a time. 
 Fuller was a royalist, warmly linked to the party in the 
 king ; and when Charles had fled from London, he be- 
 came exposed to the distrust and ill offices of the Puri- 
 tans. He was, however, so moderate in his views that 
 to the royalists he seemed lukewarm, and was even sus- 
 pected at Oxford of treachery to the king. In this strait 
 Fuller resolved to fly from London and unite his fate 
 with that of his master. Charles received the famous 
 preacher with favor. Fuller was soon named chaplain 
 to Sir Ralph Hopton, and was enabled to regain the 
 complete confidence of his party by an exploit of singu- 
 lar daring. In the absence of Sir Ralph Hopton, Fuller 
 was left in charge of Basing House, with only a few 
 attendants. The house was suddenly attacked by Sir 
 William Waller, with a considerable force. But such 
 was the warm defence of the little garrison, that the 
 parliamentary party was obliged to retreat before its 
 clerical antagonist. 
 
 Some months after, Fuller was named chaplain to the 
 Princess Henrietta Marie, with whom he remained 
 until the royal family fled to France. He then boldly 
 went back to London, where the Puritans allowed him 
 
 14: 
 
314: THE ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY. 
 
 to resume his clerical duties, deprived, however, of his 
 salary, and dependent upon his small patrimony for a 
 support. His own poverty did not prevent him from 
 aiding many of the distressed clergy who were often in 
 want of food and a proper protection for themselves and 
 their families. The generosity of Fuller was constantly 
 apparent ; he drew from his own small resources, as 
 well as from subscriptions which he assiduously gathered, 
 considerable sums for his suffering brethren. About 
 1648 he was chaplain to the Countess of .Carlisle, who 
 gave him the living of Waltham in Essex. 
 
 During all his trials and the troubled scenes through 
 which he had passed, Fuller had never ceased to write 
 and to publish. In 1656 appeared his Ecclesiastical 
 History of Great Britain from the birth of Christ to 
 1648. To this was added a history of the University of 
 Cambridge after the Conquest, and the annals of the 
 Abbey of Waltham. He wrote upon all these topics in 
 the same affected, novel, and amusing style, never 
 sparing a joke or missing a conceit, yet with the learn- 
 ing of an antiquarian and the research of a diligent stu- 
 dent. His church history, his chief production, is still 
 admired and generally read, and no one can be insensi- 
 ble to its peculiar merits, its accuracy, moderation, its 
 novel style and brilliant play of language. 
 
 At the Restoration he was restored to his benefice, and 
 named chaplain to the king. He would no doubt have 
 obtained a bishopric, but death came on the 13th 
 August, 1661, in his fifty-third year, to close his varied 
 
HIS OTHEE WORKS. 315 
 
 career. His remaining works are the History of the 
 "Worthies of England, which appeared after his death in 
 folio, with a portrait, his sermons, and various devotional 
 writings. Fuller was possessed of a peculiar genius, 
 eccentric and novel, but of that class that seldom ele- 
 vates its possessor to the highest fame. In society, as in 
 his writings, he was gay, jovial, fond of epigram, and 
 abounding in humorous conceits ; his character was 
 benevolent and pure ; and although he has not ascended 
 high in the scale of historical reputation, yet he deserves, 
 both on account of his character and writings, a respect- 
 able place among the minor historians. 
 
LAURENCE ECHARD. 
 
 ANOTHER popular historian, whose fame, however, 
 has long since declined, was Laurence Echard. He was 
 born at Cassam, in Suffolk, in 1671, the son of a clergy- 
 man in good circumstances, who sent him to Cambridge, 
 where he took his degree of master of arts, 1695. He 
 entered holy orders, and was presented to the living of 
 "Wotton and Elkinton, in Lincolnshire, where he passed 
 above twenty years of his life. During all this period 
 Echard was diligently employed in writing history. 
 The subjects upon which he fixed his attention were 
 chiefly classical ; and connected with the history of 
 Rome. One of his earliest works, "The Roman His- 
 tory," from the building of the city to Augustus, was 
 highly popular ; and by 1699, had gone through four 
 editions. He continued this work to the age of Con- 
 stantine, and dedicated his new volumes to the Duke 
 of Gloucester, for whom it had been chiefly written. 
 In 1702, he published a general ecclesiastical history, 
 extending from the birth of the Saviour to the death of 
 Constantine, which soon ran through six editions, and 
 
HIS HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 317 
 
 was considered by his contemporaries the best work of 
 its kind in the language. It was dedicated to Queen 
 Anne, and Echard was now surrounded by all the 
 evidences of assured fame. He was familiar with the 
 powerful, was renowned as the chief historian of the 
 time, and might well believe himself destined for im- 
 mortality. 
 
 "While prebend of Lincoln and chaplain to the bishop 
 of the diocese, he printed, in 1707, in one volume folio, 
 " The History of England," from the first entering of 
 Julius Caesar and the Romans to the end of the reign 
 of James I. This work was written at the suggestion 
 of the Duke of Ormond, to whom it was dedicated. 
 Echard wrote with clearness, and was possessed of some 
 learning. His histories had all remarkable success. In 
 1713 he was installed archdeacon of Stowe, and in 1718 
 published two more volumes, which brought the narra- 
 tive down to the revolution. Although these volumes 
 were dedicated to King George I., Echard was a tory, 
 and while pretending to approve of the revolution, con- 
 demned the principles upon which it had been con- 
 ducted. He palliates the faults of the Stuarts, and 
 excuses the harsh treatment of the nonconformists. 
 This work was sharply assailed by Calamy, who shows 
 it to be imperfect and superficial. Oldmixon, also, in 
 his history of the Stuarts, attacks it with equal bit- 
 terness. 
 
 The fame of Echard, so imposing to his contem- 
 poraries, has long since passed away. He now neither 
 
318 OTHER WOKKS. 
 
 awakens envy nor merits attention. He was, however, 
 successful in carrying off the emoluments of literature. 
 George I. rewarded his labors by several rich benefices ; 
 and he died, 16th August, 1730, full of honors and of 
 fame, to be soon forgotten. He married twice, but left 
 no children. He wrote besides a " History of the Revo- 
 lution in 1688," one volume, octavo ; the " Gazetteer, 
 or Newsman's Interpreter," a sort of geographical index 
 to the courts and cities of Europe, and a translation of 
 the comedies of Plautus. But no one of Echard's 
 works rises above the level of a third-rate writer, or 
 have found admirers among posterity. 
 
KOBEET BEADY. 
 
 EGBERT BEADY, historian and physician, was born in 
 the county of Norfolk, entered Caius College, Cam- 
 bridge, in 1643, took his degree of bachelor of physic, 
 1653, and was afterwards created doctor of that faculty, 
 by the king's mandatory letter, in 1660. The same year 
 he was appointed master of his college, and became, in 
 1670, keeper of the records of the Tower of London. 
 Soon after, he was made regius professor of physic in 
 the University of Cambridge, and wrote, in 1679, a letter 
 to Dr. Sydenham upon several medical topics which 
 then possessed the interest of novelty on the effect of 
 air upon the body, of Peruvian bark, and upon the 
 possibility of finding a substitute for bleeding. These 
 various appointments, to which he so easily attained, 
 show that Brady possessed not only unusual abilities, 
 but had made himself acceptable to the party in power. 
 He was a zealous royalist and in all his writings inclined 
 to the extreme views of the most rigid of that party. 
 The chief aim of his political writings is to prove the 
 
320 
 
 crown of England to be hereditary rather than elective, 
 as was urged by the liberals of the time. 
 
 As keeper of the records of the Tower, Brady had 
 been led to examine the earlier history of his country. 
 He first wrote an introduction to ancient British history, 
 and afterwards " a complete history of England " to the 
 reign of Eichard II. These works show considerable 
 research, and much of the spirit of the antiquarian: 
 they want, however, every charm of style and all the 
 higher elements of literary excellence. In politics 
 Brady anticipated some of the speculations of Hume, 
 and Gilbert Stuart, the Thersites of Edinburgh, in the 
 time of its greatest fame, used to accuse Hume of having 
 borrowed largely from Brady. There was, no doubt, 
 some foundation for this charge ; Hume was accustomed 
 to borrow liberally, and probably consulted Brady and 
 Carte more frequently than the more recondite authori- 
 ties to whom he so often refers. 
 
 Brady was in all respects a prosperous author, if not 
 a man of genius. He was in Parliament from Cam- 
 bridge, was physician in ordinary to James II., and was 
 one of the witnesses to the birth of the pretender, 
 James' son. He died 19th August, 1700, in easy 
 circumstances, and chiefly known as a vigorous oppo- 
 nent of the liberal and popular party. 
 
JOJDsT OLDMIXOK 
 
 JOHN OLDMIXON is better known as the object of the 
 unsparing ridicule of Pope than for any of his own pro- 
 ductions. Yet he was an author of some talent and 
 industry, and made himself sufficiently conspicuous to 
 obtain a prominent place in the Dunciad. He was born 
 in the county of Somerset, but the exact year of his 
 birth is unknown. His character was never pure, and 
 his reputation never rose to any height. His political 
 intolerance led him to abuse the tories with all the 
 coarseness of a hireling writer ; his literary jealousy im- 
 pelled him to a violent attack upon Pope. This bold- 
 ness was rewarded by immortality. He is represented 
 in the Dunciad as mounting the sides of a lighter to 
 plunge deeper in the slime of the Thames. Bishop 
 Kennet having employed him to publish his collection 
 of historians, Oldmixon did not scruple to alter several 
 facts in the chronicles of Daniel, and, afterwards, sup- 
 posing others to be capable of equal bad faith, accused 
 Atterbury of having altered Clarendon's history. The 
 
 14* 
 
322 OLDMIXION'S CHIEF WOEK. 
 
 wliig party gave him a place in the customs at Bridge- 
 water, where he died July, 1742, at an advanced age. 
 
 His chief work was a history of the reign of the Stuarts 
 in folio, a production which no doubt suggested to Hume 
 the plan and title of his first two volumes. This work, 
 although highly popular in its own time, has had little 
 success with posterity. It wants fidelity, accuracy of 
 research, a pleasing style and a philosophic tone ; and 
 it was no doubt a great encouragement to Hume that 
 he had no more formidable rival than the imperfect 
 Volumes of Oldmixon. He wrote also an account of the 
 British Empire in America, a description of the colonies 
 belonging to the crown, which appeared in two volumes 
 in 1708. It had considerable success, and was even 
 translated into French and German. His attack on 
 Swift's project of an Academy of Language; his Life 
 of Arthur Mainwaring ; his Essays ; the Life of Queen 
 Anne ; a critical History of England, and various con- 
 tributions to the newspapers, show the fertility and 
 labor, if not the power of his intellect. But a few lines 
 of bitter satire in the Dunciad have done more to pre- 
 serve the name of John Oldmixon to posterity than all 
 his own labored productions. 
 
THOMAS CAKTE. 
 
 THE name of Thomas Carte is little better known in 
 our day than that of Brady or Echard. In his own age 
 he was the favorite writer of the Jacobite party. His his- 
 tory of England was believed to be authentic, wise, and 
 eloquent ; and was viewed by a large party as the finest 
 work of the age. Carte was born at Clifton in "Warwick- 
 shire, at which place his father was vicar about the 
 year 1686. He was baptized, it is related, by immer- 
 sion. He entered Oxford before he was twelve years 
 of age, and took degree of A. B. in 1702. He could 
 not have been more than twenty when he received his 
 master's degree. Having entered the church, he made 
 himself conspicuous by a sermon which he preached 
 Jan. 30th, 1713, in which he vindicated King Charles 
 I. from the charge of having instigated the Irish 
 massacre, just before the civil wars. This sermon 
 was attacked by a dissenting minister of Bath, Mr. 
 Chandler, and Carte replied by publishing his first 
 work, " The Irish Massacre set in a clear light." 
 
 On the accession of George I., his Jacobite principles 
 
824- HE GOES ABROAD. 
 
 forbidding him to take the oath of allegiance, he 
 assumed a lay habit and abandoned his clerical duties. 
 It was believed that he had taken part in the rebellion 
 of 1715, and a party of troops were sent to arrest him ; 
 but he fled to the house of a clergyman of Colehill, 
 where he found refuge until the danger passed away. 
 Here he became curate, and was afterward chaplain 
 to the famous Bishop Atterbury. From this connection 
 he was involved in new difficulties, for Atterbury was 
 soon after convicted of having conspired to bring over 
 the pretender, and Carte was implicated in the treason. 
 A thousand pounds were offered for his arrest ; he fled 
 to France, where he lived under the name of Phillips, 
 well known to many men of learning and eminence. 
 Here he commenced an edition of De Thou's history, 
 which was afterwards published in seven volumes, 
 folio. 
 
 Queen Caroline, having heard of Carte's literary 
 merit, obtained permission for him to return to Eng- 
 land. He next published his Life of the Duke of 
 Ormond in 1735, containing many new letters and 
 facts. This life pleased the tories. Lord Orrery wrote 
 to Carte that Dean Swift honored him with his appro- 
 bation ; and his party concurred in his decision. 
 
 Carte now entertained the idea of writing a History 
 of England upon principles less whiggish than those of 
 Rapin. In. April, 1738, he published a prospectus, 
 explaining his plan, and soliciting subscribers. J3y 
 October he had 600 engaged and was encouraged to 
 
HIS HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 325 
 
 go on with liis collections with great spirit. When the 
 pretender renewed his attempt upon England in 1745, 
 Carte was arrested, suspected of allowing his old 
 inclinations to have implicated him in the rebellion. 
 But nothing could be proved against him and he was 
 suffered to go free. This imprisonment added to his 
 popularity. The city of London subscribed 50 to his 
 history, and the company of goldsmiths voted 25 to 
 aid him in collecting materials for the work. Propo- 
 sals for printing were issued in 1746, and the first 
 volume, coming down to the death of King John, was 
 published in 1747. Great expectations had been 
 formed of his work, and it seemed as if they were now 
 to be realized. But a single incident checked this 
 growing prosperity. In a note to the history the zea- 
 lous Jacobite had introduced the story of one Lovel 
 who had been touched for the king's evil and healed 
 by the pretender at Avignon in 1716. This story, 
 which was intended to point out Charles James as the 
 true and rightful inheritor of the throne, was met by 
 general ridicule at London, and was afterwards proved 
 to be false. Lovel, it seems, died of the complaint, 
 as even Carte, at length, reluctantly allowed. 
 
 The unlucky Jacobite found, too, that his history, of 
 which so great anticipations were lately entertained, 
 was now sinking into neglect. The corporation of 
 London, alarmed at the incident of Lovel, withdrew its 
 subscription. And timid citizens, on all sides, shrank 
 from the dangerous publication. But notwithstanding 
 
326 CAKTE'S HABITS AND CHARACTER. 
 
 this change in his prospects, Carte continued to prose- 
 cute his labors unmoved. A second volume appeared 
 in 1750 ; a third in 1753 : the fourth, which was to 
 close with the Restoration, he did not live to complete. 
 
 His work, labored and conscientious, shows, however, 
 the prejudices and the credulity of the Jacobite. His 
 style is tedious, the method confused, and it has little 
 claim to the attention on any score except fidelity of 
 research and untiring labor. His collection of papers 
 upon subjects relating to English history was so vast and 
 so imequalled in their time that large sums were paid 
 to his heirs by students of history for the privilege of 
 examining them. The Earl of Hardwick gave 200, 
 Mr. Macpherson, 300, for this examination. 
 
 Carte possessed a strong constitution, capable of 
 incessant labor. He often wrote from early morning 
 until night, taking only a cup of tea in the interval. 
 Then he would eat heartily and enjoy his late dinner. 
 He w r as gay and jovial, careful in his dress and appear- 
 ance. In his writings there is little to be praised 
 except their laborious accuracy, and the chief value of 
 his collections and history consists in their having 
 prepared the way for the more gifted Hume. 
 
WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 
 
 ALTHOUGH Robertson was one of the most conspicuous 
 men of his time, and lived through the greater part of 
 the last century, in constant intercourse with men of 
 letters, yet not many particulars remain of his life, con- 
 duct, and peculiarities of disposition. And even Lord 
 Brougham, who has lately written an account of him, 
 with all the interest of a near relative and an ardent 
 admirer, can find little new to tell of the habits of the 
 historian. He can add but few particulars to the meagre 
 and verbose account written by Dugald Stewart. Lord 
 Brougham gives a few personal reminiscences, which 
 are less interesting in themselves than for the -fact that 
 they seem to link us with the past and bring before us, 
 by the testimony of an eye-witness, some of the peculiar- 
 ities of a great author, contemporary with Hume, 
 Johnson and Gibbon. He remembers having heard 
 Robertson preach on the anniversary of the Revolution, 
 in 1788, a sermon which, even to his young faculties, 
 seems to have been unusually effective, and he adds 
 that the manuscript of this sermon, after having been 
 
328 . HIS LOVE OF FREEDOM. 
 
 lost for nearly half a century, has lately been discovered 
 among some old papers and has fallen into his hands. 
 Robertson, like most men of moderate opinions, had 
 been led away by the first dawn of the French Revolu- 
 tion, so peaceful and apparently full of hope, to receive 
 it as the birth of a happier era and the signal of the 
 liberation of oppressed millions. In this address, cele- 
 brating with great ardor and eloquence a similar event 
 in English history, he could not fail to direct the 
 attention of his hearers to the movement that was just 
 commencing in France ; and as the historian was always 
 fond of looking on the best side of things, his mind 
 expanded with hope, and all his feelings and his 
 eloquence warmed at the prospect of dawning freedom, 
 and hailed it as the opening of a long scene of happiness 
 to Europe. This sermon Lord Brougham when a child 
 heard, and he relates that even then the effect of the 
 principal's eloquence was perceptible on his audience. 
 One of Robertson's sons, who was not a regular attend- 
 ant at his father's ministrations, happened on that 
 occasion to be present. " If you would always preach 
 such sermons," said he to his father on his return, " I 
 should be a much more frequent listener." A reply 
 which seems to show that the historian was sometimes, 
 with all his graceful power and mellow voice, a little 
 dull. 
 
 Of Robertson's personal appearance, Lord Brougham 
 remembers little except that he was above the middle 
 size, of marked features, with a soft expression about 
 
HIS APPEARANCE. 329 
 
 his mouth of continual good humor. He wore, as was 
 usual, a cocked hat and walked with a stately gait. In 
 the autumn he was fond of going down to the southern 
 border to pass a few weeks with his son-in-law, Mr. 
 Brydone, the traveller, at his seat at Lenners. There he 
 was totally unconstrained, and there seems to have been 
 an agreement between himself and his host that both 
 should do as they pleased without regarding the other. 
 In the morning Robertson liked to be left entirely to 
 himself; he then either studied, walked out, or drove 
 about the country. His chief amusement was reading, 
 and he seems never to have given up study wholly, 
 even in moments of recreation. It was his chief plea- 
 sure to acquire knowledge. 
 
 Such is all the information Lord Brougham is able to 
 give us of his relative. Robertson's letters add little ; 
 and. unhappily, there was no Edinburgh Boswell who 
 took down each sentence as it fell from the lips of its 
 learned men, and produced as clear a picture of Robert- 
 son, Hume and Blair, as we have of Johnson and his 
 literary circle. It is a thing greatly to be regretted, 
 since they would all, no doubt, have improved upon a 
 closer acquaintance. Good humor, liberality, a mutual 
 toleration, and a common affection and friendship seems 
 to have characterized all these gifted men ; and while 
 the rough although benevolent Johnson taught to his 
 disciples a rigid bigotry, a violence in argument and a 
 rude and insolent expression, the followers of Hume 
 were marked by the reverse of all those qualities. In 
 
330 WANT OF MATERIALS. 
 
 the Poker Club and, in their general meetings, men of 
 the most diverse feelings and principles met cordially 
 and united in the closest friendship ; and it was a 
 common sight, in the streets of Edinburgh, to see the 
 pure Blair and Eobertson, the leader of the Scottish 
 church, joking amicably with the notorious free-thinker, 
 David Hume, and the suspected Adam Smith. Gentle- 
 ness of disposition, united with a philosophic turn of 
 mind, taught them that they could best improve and 
 benefit each other by avoiding violence in debate and 
 all unkind allusions in conversation. 
 
 To the received account therefore of Principal Robert- 
 son, in this deficiency of material, I can hope to add 
 little; but the life of a scholar, although usually un- 
 varied by any remarkable events, is seldom uninterest- 
 ing. The author is the personal friend of his readers, 
 and we follow his career with all the attention that we 
 pay to one whom we have loved and honored. If there 
 be nothing more than the history of his writings and 
 little more is left of our author, we still watch with 
 interest the first conception of his grand designs; the 
 labor through which he passes, in order to perfect them ; 
 the anxiety with which lie awaits the decision of the 
 public in regard to his future fate ; and the various his- 
 tory of each individual work; its opponents and its 
 admirers; its faults and its beauties; the degree of 
 attention which it received from the public, and the 
 final destiny which is awaiting it in the future. 
 
 Robertson's father was a respectable clergyman in 
 
HIS FATHER. 331 
 
 the Scottish kirk, who was for several years minister of 
 the Scotch church, in London "Wall. Removing from 
 hence to the parish of Borthwick, in the county of Edin- 
 burgh, he married a Miss Pitcairn ; and, on September 
 19th, 1721, our author was born. The father after- 
 wards removed to Grey Friars' church, Edinburgh, 
 where he remained until he died. He is said to have 
 been a man of considerable talent, eloquent, of pure 
 taste in literature, and of a calm and easy temper, in all 
 these respects greatly resembling his son. He had besides 
 a taste for drawing, and several of his productions, said to 
 be of some merit, are preserved by the historian's 
 family. Besides this taste, he was also fond of poetry, 
 and wrote verses with considerable purity and melody 
 probably after the manner of Pope. Upon many 
 points of conduct his views were unusually rigid ; and 
 he exacted from his son a promise that he should never 
 enter a play-house ; the abhorrence for those scenes 
 of dissipation being peculiarly strong among the old 
 covenanters. Robertson, having given this pledge, 
 never in the slightest degree violated it, although he had 
 none of that abhorrence for plays and acting which 
 marked the more rigid members of the kirk. Even 
 when his friend Hume's tragedy of Douglas was acted, 
 and when many of his clerical friends ventured within the 
 walls of the theatre, Robertson was never tempted to for- 
 get his promise. And afterwards, in London, although 
 allured by the fame of his friend Garrick, and counten- 
 anced by the example of the highest dignitaries of the 
 
332 THE HABITS OF HIS YOUTH. 
 
 church, he still continued resolute. Garrick, respecting 
 his decision, in order to give him some idea of the effect 
 of spoken tragedy and comedy, read for him some of his 
 best parts in private, his nearest acquaintance with 
 the theatre. 
 
 Yet was his father by no means severe, sour, or exact- 
 ing. He was on the contrary of a mild temper, fond of 
 cheerful amusement, and of a composed and hopeful 
 turn of mind. His wife was a woman of much ability 
 and energy, but more severe and less amiable. It is 
 said, that the historian inherited something of the dis- 
 position of each parent ; that he possessed his mother's 
 energy and strength of will, softened by his father's 
 mildness and cheerfulness of temper. 
 
 He was the eldest of eight children six daughters 
 and two sons ; and, having been early sent to school, 
 entered the University of Edinburgh at twelve years of 
 age. From his childhood he was always fond of study ; 
 he had laid down regular rules for the employment of his 
 time, and was calm, methodical and industrious. At 
 fourteen he even began to fill his common-place book 
 with whatever he read ; his motto always having been 
 "vita sine litteris mors." This was written upon his 
 first common-place book, and seems to have been the 
 ruling principle of his life. He was fond of the classics, 
 and thought there was no better way of improving the 
 style than by frequently translating from those authors. 
 When about twenty, he had gone so far as to plan, and 
 partly to execute, a translation of Marcus Antoninus, his 
 
333 
 
 favorite author ; but the appearance of a rival transla- 
 tion prevented him from completing it. The portions 
 which have been preserved show no marks of unusual 
 merit, either in style or matter, and it is no source of 
 regret that he was unable, at so immature an age, to 
 pursue his intended work. 
 
 Robertson's character seems early to have been 
 formed, and to have partaken of the method and 
 regularity of his studies. He was a stoic by nature, 
 not less than by a careful study of Marcus Antoninus. 
 He never allowed himself to be transported by passion, 
 and probably had none of those violent impulses that 
 embarrass the lives of most men. His temper was mild, 
 his disposition not excitable ; he was firm in his opinions, 
 and was marked by uncommon prudence in his treat- 
 ment of the opinions of others. He was learned, wise, 
 well read, and capable on all occasions, from his per- 
 fect composure and firmness, to make his superiority 
 felt among his companions. His youth had been dis- 
 turbed by none of those vices or follies which others 
 around him had fallen into : he had never, like Gold- 
 smith or Johnson, fallen into debt ; mingled with de- 
 praved associates, or discovered by experience the follies 
 of mankind ; and he had little to regret in the past, and 
 every thing to hope in the future. 
 
 Such a nature, combined with remarkable intellectual 
 gifts, could not fail to have led Robertson to distinction 
 in whatever path he had chosen to have pursued it. 
 As a lawyer he must have risen to the bench or become 
 as renowned as Wedderburn or Erskine. But he chose 
 
334 HE IS LICENSED TO PREACH. 
 
 the church, as the profession which his father had fol- 
 lowed and which was best suited to his own taste and 
 the character of his pursuits. Even at this early age 
 Kobertson had already begun to cherish literary hopes, 
 and was looking about for some subject suited to his 
 peculiar abilities. He was already purifying his style 
 by a diligent study of Swift, and regulating his course 
 of study by following the rules of Marcus Antoninus. 
 And he no doubt felt that the quiet of a country parish 
 would best enable him to pursue his favorite scheme. 
 
 In 1741 he was licensed to preach, and two years 
 afterwards, at the age of twenty-two, became minister 
 of Gladsmuir, a country parish in East Lothian. Not 
 long after his settlement his parents both died suddenly 
 within a short time of each other, leaving their large 
 family of seven children, all younger than Robertson, 
 with little or no support, except the aid of the eldest 
 son. "With generous decision, Robertson, in this emerg- 
 ency, resolved to give up all his own plans in order to 
 provide a home for his brother and his sisters ; he re- 
 solved to abandon all prospect of marriage until they 
 should be provided for, and to devote all his income to 
 their support. For eight years he remained single, his 
 house being presided over by his eldest sister, a person 
 said to have been beautiful, amiable and self-sacrificing. 
 In 1750, however, she married, leaving Robertson to 
 follow her example, which he did the next year by 
 marrying his cousin, Miss Nesbit, a connection from 
 which he derived lasting happiness. 
 
 During the fifteen years he continued to live at 
 
HIS STKONG AND ACTIVE CONSTITUTION. 335 
 
 nrair liis life was marked by the same regularity and 
 purity which had been apparent in his youth ; he was 
 in the habit of rising very early, in order to give the 
 whole morning to his books ; while later in the day he 
 visited the poor and sick, always a welcome visitor, 
 because he always carried with him cheerfulness and 
 hope. But although devoted to study, he was also fond 
 of more active exercise, riding, walking, and physical 
 labor. His constitution seems always to have been 
 strong ; and, as he was free from all excesses and im- 
 prudence, his frame was capable of enduring exertion, 
 and was not easily wearied. "When the rebellion of 
 1745 broke out, and the safety of the country and the 
 government called for the aid of all its supporters, 
 Robertson, although a non-combatant, immediately left 
 his study and his manse to join the volunteers who were 
 collected in defence of the capital. He did not think 
 that either his profession or his literary taste forbade 
 him to take arms in defence of his country, and his 
 strong and active frame seemed well fitted for the dis- 
 charge of the duties of a volunteer. There was probably 
 no more able-bodied or willing trooper in the ranks 
 than was the sturdy parson from Gladsmuir. On the 
 surrender of the capital, Robertson, not satisfied with 
 his experience of military life, once more offered his 
 services to the royal army at the camp of Haddington. 
 
 Another field of activity, however, more suited to his 
 peculiar taste and powers, and which seems to have 
 called forth all his zeal, was the General Assembly of the 
 
336 HE ENTEES THE GENEEAL ASSEMBLY. 
 
 Scottish Church. Here he entered as a delegate, pro- 
 bably one of the least distinguished of that body, yet 
 soon by his eloquence and industry he rose to be its 
 leader. 
 
 He had always practised speaking, from a very early 
 age, being probably encouraged in this taste by the 
 example of his father, who is said to have been an 
 excellent speaker. In his youth he joined a debating 
 society, which met weekly for the purpose of discussion 
 on all topics ; and which afterwards grew into a more 
 extended society, of which most of the eminent men of 
 Edinburgh were members. Hume and Smith belonged 
 to this club ; but from distrust of their own powers, 
 never joined in the debates. They were careful of their 
 fame, and probably unwilling to incur the chance of a 
 failure even upon so narrow a field. Wedderburn, 
 afterwards Chancellor of England, Ferguson, the pro- 
 fessor, Hume, Lord Kames, together with Robertson, 
 were the leading and active members of the society, 
 which did much to keep alive their mental activity, as 
 well as to perfect them in the art of speaking. Eobert- 
 son gave much time to these meetings, was always 
 present, and led in debate and criticism. 
 
 "When, therefore, he entered the assembly, although 
 little more than a young and obscure parish minister, 
 he was at once enabled to make his way to influence by 
 his talents as a writer and a speaker. His prospects, 
 however, on account of his peculiar opinions, seemed at 
 first very unpromising. Although the great majority 
 
HIS LIBERALITY. 337 
 
 of the assembly held strictly the rules of the ancient 
 covenant, and were marked by a rigid illiberality, 
 Robertson at once placed himself among the small 
 minority who were called the moderate party. The 
 opposite faction held all the extreme dogmas of their 
 sect ; all who differed from them in opinion, even to the 
 slightest degree, they looked upon with abhorrence as 
 departing from the old standard of the kirk. They held 
 that the only safety of the nation lay in persecuting 
 Catholics and excommunicating infidels ; that plays were 
 the work of the devil, and theatres the surest road to 
 perdition. All improvement in art, science, or litera- 
 ture, they looked upon with distrust ; and theological or 
 metaphysical speculations, which seemed in any degree 
 to depart from the principles of Calvin, they condemned 
 as heretical, and denounced the unlucky authors as 
 infidels. In fine, they embodied the old persecuting 
 spirit which has its seat in almost every religious sect, 
 but which was only logically defended by the followers 
 of Calvin. 
 
 To all these illiberal views Robertson was opposed, 
 both by nature and reason ; his mild disposition shrank 
 from the use of violent measures in enforcing religious 
 truth, while his active mind sympathized with every 
 effort by new inquiry to penetrate to the grounds of 
 human knowledge. He was himself a writer, and his 
 mind was already filled with the love of all that was 
 beautiful in art and literature ; nor could he see as 
 much danger to religion in mental inquiry as in a state 
 
 15 
 
338 HE GAINS INFLUENCE. 
 
 of dull and sluggish repose. Robertson was also a 
 defender of lay patronage, or the system which pre- 
 vailed in the Scottish church, by which the pastor of 
 each parish was selected by the owner of the living 
 rather than by the people. 
 
 In these opinions he found himself, at first, sustained 
 by few, but gradually the force of his eloquence, his 
 amiable manners, and his clear and ready argument 
 began to win him influence among his brother clergymen 
 such as no other man possessed. The majority came 
 finally over to his side, leaving the rigid and fanatic 
 portions of the kirk to maintain themselves in contempt 
 and ridicule. One of the most remarkable occasions in 
 which Robertson showed the liberality of his opinions, 
 as well as the force of his eloquence, was in the case of 
 his friend, Henry Home. 
 
 Home, a parish minister of the Scottish kirk, inclined 
 from early youth to poetry, and anxious, perhaps, to 
 escape from obscurity, had employed himself in writing 
 tragedies, after the manner of Shakspeare. Had he 
 concealed this taste, or only published his plays, he 
 might, probably, have escaped the extreme censure of 
 of his brethren of the kirk ; but, in an excess of impru- 
 dence, Home not only wrote plays and admired 
 Shakspeare, but even prepared one for the stage. This 
 was "the Douglas" a production which gained great 
 reputation in its own day and at once elevated the 
 author to a height of fame which he never could have 
 deserved. It has since chiefly been known as affording 
 
DEFENDS HOME. 339 
 
 a favorite piece for school-boy declamation. Home's 
 play was acted at Edinburgh to crowded houses, with a 
 great increase of fame to the author ; and, to add to the 
 horror of the stricter brethren, many of the younger 
 clergy were tempted by friendship or curiosity to attend 
 its exhibitions, a crime such as had never before been 
 known in that city since the days of John Knox. 
 
 Such an offence, aided by so many exciting circum- 
 stances, could not fail to arouse all the zeal and vigor 
 of the extremists. They summoned Home before the 
 Assembly to answer for his offence, and at the saine 
 time resolved to punish all those of the clergy who had 
 ventured within the theatre. In these proceedings 
 they, no doubt, had the general support of their laity. 
 In our own day, a clergyman who should write a 
 tragedy, should attend rehearsals, and finally produce 
 it on the stage, would be thought to have lost in a 
 great measure his clerical character ; and should several 
 of our leading divines be seen in the boxes of a theatre, 
 the popular sympathy would not be in their favor, 
 should they be called to account for their imprudence. 
 But in Edinburgh, a century ago, such offences seemed 
 almost" inexpiable. The old strictness of the Puritan 
 sect still flourished in all its rigor; and not many years 
 ago the theatre and the actor had been forbidden by 
 law as things to be shunned and abhorred. In this 
 state of feeling, it was an act of unusual rashness in 
 Home and his friends thus to outrage public sentiment ; 
 and they might well look forward to dismission and 
 
34:0 THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 
 
 disgrace when their trial came on in the General 
 Assembly. 
 
 Their only friend, of any influence, and upon whom 
 they could build their hope, was Robertson, now a 
 leading member, and capable of controlling many votes. 
 It does not appear that Robertson approved of the con- 
 duct of the accused, although he willingly took up 
 their defence. He acted, however, the part of a friend 
 rather than that of a judge; and, by his voice, his pen, 
 and his personal exertions, endeavored to save them 
 from punishment. His exertions were, to a certain 
 extent, successful. Home at length resigned his office 
 rather than continue the struggle ; allured too, perhaps, 
 by brighter prospects in England. But Robertson suc- 
 ceeded in saving the other accused from any other 
 punishment than a censure and a temporary suspension. 
 
 From 1742 to 1758, a period of sixteen years, Robert- 
 son had been engaged upon his " History of Scotland." 
 It appeared in 1759. His peculiar course of study, as 
 well as the nature of his mind, fitted him admirably 
 for the composition of this work. From an early period 
 of life he had been diligently refining his style, taking 
 for his models the plain and simple diction of Swift and 
 De Foe. He had carefully freed himself from all Scot- 
 ticisms by a familiarity with the best English writers, 
 and had acquired an easy and harmonious flow of lan- 
 guage, fitted at once to engage the attention and gratify 
 the taste. His learning was sufficient at least for the 
 theme he had chosen ; he had read many books with 
 
HE GOES TO LONDON. 341 
 
 profit ; and lie was capable of regular labor and untiring 
 industry. 
 
 His subject, too, was one of remarkable interest. The 
 history of Scotland had not yet been written ; and it 
 came therefore upon his readers with all the charm of 
 novelty, besides appealing to the warmest feelings of 
 of their nature. The Scots have ever been famous for 
 their love of country; and the historian, in his clear 
 periods, and graceful narrative, led back the minds of 
 his countrymen to the interesting and troubled annals 
 of their native land. At home his work could not fail 
 to be successful; while, in England, he carefully took 
 measures to make himself friends among the critics, 
 before he ventured to publish. 
 
 In 1Y59, he went up to London, to settle with some 
 publisher, as well as to endeavor to prepare the public 
 for a kind reception of his book. He was provided 
 with letters to various persons of eminence, and besides 
 his friend Home was now tutor to the son of the Earl of 
 Bute ; Scott, another friend, was in the same office with 
 the Prince of Wales ; and "Wedderburn was already, 
 though so young, a prominent speaker in the House. 
 
 He was some time in the capital, before he came to 
 any agreement with the bookseller, and the interval he 
 employed in endeavoring to excite attention to the sub- 
 ject of his work. He writes back to his friends in 
 Edinburgh that part of his manuscript was in the hands 
 of Horace "Walpole, the prime minister's son ; another 
 portion he had given to the Duke of Argyle; Lord 
 
34:2 HIS RECEPTION. 
 
 Boyston had a third ; and Mr. Scott, the tutor to the 
 Prince of Wales, was supplied with the remainder, to 
 be read no doubt to his royal pupil. Horace "Walpole, 
 he relates, was already interested in Queen Mary, and 
 was delighted with his subject. 
 
 As a conspicuous minister of the Scottish church, 
 Robertson had facilities for gaining fame, which had 
 been denied to the less fortunate Hume ; even before his 
 publication he was received with politeness by many 
 men eminent in letters and politics ; and was person- 
 ally highly popular. Poor Hume, on the contrary, on 
 the eve of publishing his first volume, had been an 
 object of dislike, and even contempt, to the London 
 critics. "When he visited the capital, to get out his 
 work, he knew but one Mr. Bourke or Burke, of all its 
 distinguished coteries; and even Mallet looked with 
 contempt upon the poor Scotch author, who was en- 
 deavoring to force himself on the attention of the Eng- 
 lish public. But far different was it with Eobertson, 
 who now found the road to fame easy, and who was 
 encouraged on all sides by approving advice from the 
 highest sources. He dined out; saw all the eminent 
 men of the time, was nattered by their attentions ; and, 
 but for his composure and prudence, might have suf- 
 fered more from his prosperity than Hume had done 
 from adversity. 
 
 His friends advised him to add to his work a large 
 body of notes, containing original documents, letters, 
 journals, and various new matter ; a feature which, he 
 
SELLS HIS COPYRIGHT. 34:3 
 
 was told, would please the taste of the town although it 
 doubled the price and size of his work. In fact the 
 whole history was very brief, comprising not more than 
 eight or nine hundred pages octavo, and treating of all 
 its subjects, except the life of Queen Mary, in the most 
 concise manner. 
 
 The book-sellers, led away by the general enthusiasm 
 in his favor, made him offers for the copyright which, 
 in that day, were thought unusually large. There 
 seems even to have been a competition among them to 
 secure a work which was evidently destined to become 
 highly popular, and of which, even in advance of its 
 publication, the best critics. spoke in the highest praise. 
 Eobertson met with none of those difficulties which 
 usually embarrass the historical writer, who, unknown 
 to fame, prepares to publish his first work. And while 
 but small expectations were formed of the Decline and 
 Fall, and the History of the Stuarts, had been almost 
 neglected in London, on its first appearance, the 
 History of Scotland was winning fame for its author 
 some months before it appeared in print. 
 
 Robertson writes to Jardine, just before that event, 
 that he was writing from the British Coffee House in 
 the midst of a company who were playing at cards 
 and drinking claret ; and he seems to have enjoyed the 
 spectacle of the gaiety of the metropolis although he 
 still preserved his own moderation and abstinence. 
 He tells Jardine that he had just agreed with his book- 
 seller, Andrew Miller, for 600, the sum he had 
 
344 THE HISTOKY COMES OUT. 
 
 originally fixed upon for the copyright ; but that all 
 the book-sellers were astonished at the greatness of the 
 sum. With something of the vanity of an author, he 
 adds that he has all the best puffers in England on his 
 side, Doddington, Walpole, Lady Hervey, and the 
 speaker, and that Mary had become a subject of con- 
 versation in all the best circles of the town. He had 
 dined, too, with Garrick, and had visited Admiral 
 Hawke on the Royal George. 
 
 When, therefore, the history finally came out, 
 attended by all those favorable omens, and so free from 
 every trait that could possibly offend the prejudices of 
 any class of readers, it rose at once to a height of 
 renown, such as no book of the time had attained. 
 The critics were astonished at the purity of its lan- 
 guage, so free from Scotticisms, that they asserted that 
 the author must have studied at Oxford. Hume, who 
 was in London at the time, wrote with real pleasure to 
 Robertson, that his work was everywhere praised. 
 Lord Lyttleton was delighted that so fine a production 
 should come from a Christian, and spoke of it with 
 such enthusiastic pleasure that Hume said he consi- 
 dered Dr. Robertson the best writer that had arisen 
 since St. Paul. Chesterfield, Grenville, and Garrick, 
 clergy and laity, and all the, members of the royal 
 family, to the king himself, united in the general 
 laudation. And even Horace Walpole, who secretly 
 never enjoyed any writings but his own, lavished his 
 praises on the History of Scotland. By one happy 
 
345 
 
 effort Robertson had at once arisen to the head of the 
 historians of his time, and all those who disliked the 
 opinions and character of Hume, now availed them- 
 selves of this opportunity of depreciating the dange- 
 rous skeptic by praising his orthodox rival. 
 
 Notwithstanding this apparent opposition, however, 
 the two historical writers remained fast friends, Hume 
 doing all in his power to spread the fame of the history, 
 lie not only recommended it in London to all his 
 acquaintances, but wrote over to Paris to those that he 
 knew there, extolling it with great ardor, and urging 
 that a translation be at once made in order to show the 
 Parisian critics of what his Edinburgh literati were 
 capable. His generous approval was of signal use to 
 Robertson, and no man did more in giving popularity 
 to the book. ]STor was Robertson, in the moment of his 
 fame, forgetful of his less popular rival, and he con- 
 tinued ever after, through all his exaltation, to shield 
 Hume from the mortifications to which his unpopular 
 principles exposed him, and to cultivate his society as 
 one of his chief pleasures. " I regard the friendship of 
 Mr. Hume," he wrote, in his old age, to Gibbon, " as 
 one of the happiest circumstances of my life." 
 
 A short time before the publication of the history, 
 Robertson had been presented to his father's charge, the 
 Old Grey Friars, at Edinburgh. When his wide literary 
 fame was added to his other recommendations, he rose 
 rapidly in the church and received various high appoint- 
 ments. In 1759, he was made chaplain royal, a station 
 
 15* 
 
346 
 
 which, since the formation of the Scottish kirk, had 
 become a sinecure. A few years after, in 1762, as soon 
 as the vacancy occurred, he was made principal of the 
 University of Edinburgh, the most dignified literary 
 position which his country had to bestow. And as he 
 was also moderator of the general assembly, he held a 
 governing influence in the church and the educational 
 system of Scotland. His moderate views being adopted 
 by the ruling party in the church gave considerable 
 impulse to the Scottish intellect, now set free from the 
 fear of encountering the violence of the fanatical leaders, 
 and his liberal opinions in politics softened the harshness 
 of Jacobitism, and tended to allay those bitter feelings 
 against England, which had long prevailed among a 
 large party in Scotland. 
 
 It was, no doubt, a sense of the good effect of Robert- 
 son's political moderation, not less than his literary 
 fame, that made him so marked a favorite with the king 
 and the whole royal family. The king, it seems, was 
 desirous that Robertson should undertake the history of 
 England and should compose a narrative more favorable 
 to the rights of the House of Hannover than that of 
 Hume was supposed to be. It would also be free from 
 the irreligious tone of the latter, and more fit on that 
 account for the use of the royal family. Lord Bute, 
 who was at that time the ruling favorite, united with 
 the king in urging Robertson to write this work ; he 
 renewed for him the post of royal historiographer of 
 Scotland, with a salary of 300, and offered the historian 
 
THE KING PROPOSES TO HIM A SUBJECT. 347 
 
 every advantage which his powerful aid could afford, 
 in collecting materials and securing the success of the 
 work. 
 
 This was, no doubt, a tempting offer to Robertson, 
 and one that must for the moment have aroused his 
 ambition and interest. His only rival in the field of 
 English history would be his friend, Hume, whose 
 unpopular principles had already exposed him to the 
 most unfavorable criticism. Few in that period seemed 
 to perceive the unusual excellence of Hume's produc- 
 tion, and it was common to speak of it as partial, false, 
 full of Scotticisms, and unfit to be put in the hands of 
 the young. It was plain, therefore, that Robertson had 
 every advantage over his only rival, and that his work, 
 sustained by royal and court influence, by the whole 
 circle of critics, and by the charms of his style and 
 method, would rise at once to be considered the only 
 faithful and valuable history of England. He seems, 
 in fact, for a time to have inclined to follow the royal 
 suggestion and to devote the remainder of his life to a 
 work of that nature. 
 
 But upon reflecting upon the subject, various objec- 
 tions rose in his mind. He felt that Hume must neces- 
 sarily consider such a work an intrusion on his peculiar 
 field, and that friendship demanded that some regard 
 should be paid to his feelings. This objection, however, 
 he seems to have met by urging that Hume's work had 
 long been before the public, and had gained a position 
 which could not be shaken by any effort of his own. 
 
348 HE WAS NOT WELL FITTED FOE THE TASK. 
 
 And lie thought, too, that from their different mode of 
 viewing the subject, the two works would rather throw 
 light upon each other than come into open competition. 
 While he was reflecting upon the project, however, 
 Lord Bute resigned, and he thus lost one of his most 
 zealous friends in office. He heard, too, that Hume 
 felt displeased at his design, thinking that it was no 
 friendly act to attempt to wrest from him the place of 
 historian of England, and Eo"bertson kindly dropped all 
 thoughts of the matter. 
 
 It is probable, also, that he was conscious that he 
 wanted many of the qualities necessary for the per- 
 formance of such a labor, and that as he examined the 
 subject more closely, he found that he could hardly 
 hope to give interest to so long a work, supported only 
 by his pure but artificial style, and his happy skill in 
 painting an interesting character. There is little doubt 
 that had he attempted to write the history he would 
 have failed wholly in giving it a lasting value. Tem- 
 porary applause he must have gained, because that was 
 prepared for him beforehand. He would have shocked 
 no prejudices, he would have wounded no cherished 
 convictions, nor would he have ventured upon any 
 dangerous speculations in religion or politics. He 
 would have pleased dissenter and churchman, liberal 
 and tory, prelate and Puritan. But he would have 
 wanted all those excellences which have given a perpe- 
 tual interest to Hume's unequalled work. Philosophy, 
 depth of insight into peculiar characters, and the power 
 
HISTORY OJF CHAELES V. 349 
 
 of fixing the attention to a long train of reasoning, 
 hidden beneath an engaging narrative, were qualities 
 that Robertson never possessed ; nor conld he have 
 rivalled that pure and artless style, that melodious 
 flow of language, and those sweet and gracious pic- 
 tures with which Hume has at intervals interspersed 
 his history. Happily for his fame he selected a subject 
 more suited to his taste and powers. 
 
 This was the history of Charles Y. After looking 
 round for an interesting subject in modern history, and 
 having consulted Hume as to what he would advise 
 him to choose, he finally, notwithstanding the advice of 
 his friend, who recommended him to compose a series 
 of biographies, had fixed upon that era, as one likely 
 to be of interest. For nearly ten years after the 
 publication of his first work, Robertson was closely 
 engaged upon the history of Charles, and as it was a 
 work requiring a wide range of reading and a general 
 knowledge of the affairs both of Europe and America 
 at that period, the time does not seem long. 
 
 The subject was one that seemed suited to his peculiar 
 powers ; the life of Charles embraced within its limits 
 vicissitudes such as might well employ all the skill of 
 the historical painter, and call forth all that power of 
 touching the feelings, and the fancy which Robertson 
 certainly possessed ; and he could hardly fail to make 
 an instructive as well as entertaining work out of the 
 various materials which his subject presented : the rise 
 of the Reformation; the wars with France and the 
 
350 IT APPEARS IN 1769. 
 
 German league ; and the final abdication of tlie famous 
 monarch amid all his power and magnificence, dissatis- 
 fied with the world and hopeless of present enjoyment. 
 Robertson was always skillful in the choice of his 
 subjects, and they were always not only interesting but 
 new. 
 
 This history appeared in 1769, with a dedication to 
 the king, who had probably been educated into an 
 admiration of the historian, and had learned to prefer 
 his rounded period and clear style to that of any other 
 author. The work was received with general admi- 
 ration ; the fame of the author could not indeed have 
 been much raised above the early laudations of his 
 critics ; but he now seemed to have proved that they 
 had not been mistaken in their opinion of his powers. 
 The history of Charles Y. was believed to be the finest 
 work of the age; its learning seemed vast, its style 
 perfect, its subject the most interesting and instructive 
 that could be imagined ; nor was it necessary for the 
 historian to write anything more in order to insure the 
 perpetuity of his fame. 
 
 It is not to be supposed, however, that Eobertson 
 escaped the usual fate of eminent authors, or that his 
 work aroused no unfavorable criticism. A portion of 
 the Jacobite party, offended by the manner in which 
 he had treated their idol queen, Mary, attacked his 
 history of Scotland with vigor and considerable learning, 
 Whitaker and Tytler, the two most learned of his 
 opponents, labored to show that he was inaccurate an.d 
 
GILBERT STUART. 351 
 
 I artial. Even with Mr. Hume he had some differences 
 on this subject ; Hume inclining to a still less favorable 
 construction of Mary's actions than his friend, but 
 fortunately their controversies never went beyond a 
 playful badinage and a few pleasant rejoinders. The 
 most bitter and violent of Robertson's critics, however, 
 was Gilbert Stuart, a man of remarkable and active 
 intellect, who, at the early age of twenty-one, had 
 written a valuable work on the constitutional history 
 of Scotland. The style of this writer was clear, his 
 reasoning strong, and his learning often deep and labor- 
 ious. Unfortunately, however, he had early yielded to 
 excesses and dissipation, and all his promising genius 
 was thus lost to himself and his country. 
 
 Stuart, notwithstanding his constant intemperance, 
 had offered himself as a candidate for a professorship in 
 the University, and when he failed attributed his ill- 
 success to the unfriendly interference of the principal. 
 He at once resolved to revenge himself by attacking the 
 works of his supposed enemy ; and in various reviews 
 and other publications he never ceased to disparage the 
 good faith and accuracy of Robertson. So learned and 
 acute a critic, he did not fail often to fix upon points in 
 which the historian had, in fact, laid himself open to 
 attack, and many of his strictures are both just and 
 unanswerable. This constant hostility and abuse led, 
 finally, to a duel between himself and Robertson's eldest 
 son, in which neither were injured, and not long after, 
 in 1786, Stuart died, at the early age of forty. 
 
352 
 
 One of the leading traits of Robertson's character was 
 the firmness and unchanging nature of his opinions. In 
 tact, he seems never to have departed from those prin- 
 ciples which he laid down for himself in early youth, 
 maintaining the same doctrines at the close of his life 
 which he had adopted at its beginning. Towards all 
 other sects beside his own he had ever displayed an 
 unusual liberality and tenderness of feeling. Charity 
 seemed a part of his nature and he always severely 
 condemned any departure from its teachings. When, 
 in 1778, an attempt was made to remove some of the 
 disabilities of the Roman Catholics in England and 
 Scotland, and to place them on an equality with their 
 fellow subjects, Robertson was one of the first to sustain 
 the liberal measure. He urged it by his voice and his 
 pen, and was everywhere known as the friend of the 
 Catholics. This measure, however, awoke the most 
 violent opposition among the common people; in London 
 a Protestant mob for some time held possession of the 
 city, burnt the chapels and dwellings of the Catholics, 
 and forced Parliament to abandon the proposed mea- 
 sure. At Edinburgh, a similar outrage took place. 
 Tlie mob gained complete control of the town, and 
 hastened in their rage to attack the house of the prin- 
 cipal, as the prominent leader of the liberal party. 
 Robertson, however, had left, with his family, before 
 their arrival, and a body of soldiers, stationed within it, 
 kept the mob from plundering. Yet, unmoved by this 
 violent opposition, Robertson never yielded his opinions 
 
HE STILL WKITES. 353 
 
 for a moment, or ceased to advocate them openly as 
 well as in private. And, in 1780, he delivered a speech 
 in the general assembly advocating the same measures 
 and principles which had drawn upon him the rage of 
 his fellow citizens. 
 
 The writer, who has once learned the charms and the 
 satisfaction of composition, can seldom lay down his 
 pen until the close of life. Robertson, althouglrhe had 
 already gained sufficient fame and influence, seems 
 now to have written for the sake of employment. His 
 next subject was one resembling in interest and novelty 
 his two former themes, and like them was easily made 
 to assume the form of a biography. Allured by the 
 fascinating adventures of Columbus, of Cortes and of 
 Pizarro, he now resolved to write the history of Ame- 
 rica. His first design was to include in this work all 
 the known portions of that country ; to describe the 
 discovery and settlement of Virginia and New England, 
 and to paint the manners and occupations of those 
 singular people who had occupied the country on the 
 first appearance of the whites. 
 
 He was only able, however, to complete the narra- 
 tive of the Spanish settlements in America, having left 
 some fragments of his labors upon the history of the 
 more northern portion of the country. This work ap- 
 peared in 1777, in two volumes quarto. In its compo- 
 sition he passed many years of labor, and had evidently 
 collected a vast amount of materials suitable for the 
 work; his list of the various authorities which he con- 
 
354 HISTORY OF AMERICA. 
 
 suited, printed together with the history, shows with 
 what diligence and expense he was in the habit of pro- 
 secuting his researches. He also retains the same clear 
 and musical style, and paints the march of Cortes to 
 Mexico, and the voyage of Columbus over the unknown 
 ocean, with the same skill with which he had depicted 
 the life and sufferings of Mary, or the abdication of 
 Charles Y. 
 
 As if, however, the public had grown a little weary of 
 his flowing sentences and his graceful manner, the history 
 of America met with a cold reception compared to that 
 enthusiasm with which his earlier works had been 
 hailed. Even his style was thought to have declined 
 in correctness, and to have become less harmonious and 
 easy than in his former writings. 
 
 "Whether led by this cold reception to believe that 
 he had chosen an unpopular theme, or, wearying of his 
 task, Eobertson never completed his design of writing 
 the History of America; although in his preface he 
 promises to perform that labor. It is likely that, as he 
 began to examine the materials for the history of the 
 northern parts of that continent, he found them less 
 interesting, and the labor more difficult than he had 
 imagined. He could hardly have felt much interest in 
 the character of the Puritans, then so little understood, 
 or in the various colonists who had landed upon North 
 America, and he finally resigned the subject, after 
 having written some fragments of the narratives of 
 Virginia and New England. 
 
HIS FAME SPREADS ABROAD. 355 
 
 But, in 1778 or 79, lie was already thinking of a new 
 subject for historical study, and consulted his friends as 
 to his choice. Mr. Gibbon recommended to him the 
 history of the Protestants in France ; a narrative adorned 
 by many remarkable scenes and exploits, and by the 
 genius of Coligny and Henry IV. Eobertson, however, 
 seems to have preferred a subject suggested by several 
 other friends the History of England from the Revolu- 
 tion to the Accession of the House of Hannover. But 
 his friend Mr. Macpherson, having already published an 
 account of that period, together with a large and valuable 
 collection of documents, Robertson, partly out of re- 
 gard to his friend's feelings, and no less from a sense of 
 weariness and indolence, gave up the project for ever. 
 He was never to write any portion of the history of 
 England, or to come into open comparison with Hume, 
 
 His fame meanwhile having spread abroad, in 1781 
 he was elected member of the Academy of Sciences at 
 Padua ; and in 1783 one of the foreign members of that 
 of St. Petersburg. The Empress Catherine, too, pleased 
 with his writings, sent him a gold snuff-box set with 
 diamonds. 
 
 Robertson was also the founder of the Royal Society 
 of Edinburgh, having always entertained his leisure 
 with scientific pursuits. His active mind pursued all 
 kinds of knowledge, and he was skillful in mathematics 
 and geography, as well as in mere general learning. 
 
 His last work, undertaken as an amusement, in the 
 decline of his life, was an essay on the knowledge the 
 
356 HIS HEALTH DECLINES. 
 
 ancients had of India before the discoveries of Gama, 
 and also an inquiry into the nature and amount of com- 
 merce then carried on between Europe and the East. 
 This treatise was suggested by reading Major RennelPs 
 " Memoir of a Map of Hindostan :" it shows learning 
 and reflection, with little novelty of thought. It was 
 published in quarto, in 1791, when Robertson was in his 
 seventieth year. Lord Brougham, then a child, was in 
 the house with the historian, while he was engaged on 
 this work, and relates that he used to leave the dining- 
 room both after dinner, and again after tea, to remain 
 shut up in his library. 
 
 His health now began to decline, and symptoms of 
 jaundice appeared. He removed from Edinburgh to 
 his seat in the country, where he hoped to find benefit 
 from purer air. Here, in mild weather, he would spend 
 much of his time in the garden, as if he had at length 
 grown weary of books, and now sought amusement in 
 nature. At length, in 1793, he was confined to his 
 couch, and died on the llth June of that year. 
 
 It is unnecessary to dwell upon his character, since 
 it can be easily gathered from the circumstances of his 
 life. He was calm in disposition, free from passions, 
 of considerable energy, firm, decided, and candid. 
 His opinions once adopted seem never to have changed, 
 and his taste remained through life always the same. 
 Although without anything of the enthusiast in his 
 feelings, yet he was always just and benevolent. His 
 conduct towards his family, when, in early youth, he 
 
IS ALWAYS CHEERFUL. 357 
 
 devoted himself to the maintenance of his younger 
 brothers and sisters, and finally provided for them 
 comfortably in life, shows his kind and generous 
 nature ; and he was never wanting in the common traits 
 of benevolence. 
 
 He either aimed to become a stoic by philosophy 
 or was born one by nature. He thought it wrong ever 
 to destroy the happiness of others by the recital of 
 one's own private griefs; and he said he always left 
 all his sorrows in his study. When he came into the 
 company of his friends he was always good-humored 
 and cheerful, and he continued to the close of his life 
 one of the most agreeable of that amiable band of 
 authors who made the fame of Scotland in the last 
 century. He was fond of lively conversation, enjoyed 
 company and a good joke, and it would probably have 
 shocked the rigid Knox or "Wishart could they have 
 seen the amiable wit who was at the head of the church 
 which they had founded. 
 
 Few writers, in*fact, have attained a position of more 
 influence than that held by Robertson. As principal 
 of the University he controlled the educational system 
 of his country and influenced the minds of the greater 
 proportion of its rising intellect. In the general 
 assembly he was long the ruling member, directing all 
 its measures and infusing his own mildness and libe- 
 rality into the minds of the young ministers. There, 
 it is true, he often met with opposition from Erskine 
 and the violent party, but in the end he usually 
 
358 HIS ORATORY. 
 
 triumphed, as patience and moderation are almost 
 always at last successful. His literary fame, rising 
 with Ins years, completed his wide influence. He was 
 the personal friend of George II. and IH., the favorite 
 of Lord Bute, and admired by all the royal family. 
 The fashion of London was on his side, and his mode- 
 ration and general good-humor preserved him from 
 having an enemy. 
 
 He used his power in the most praiseworthy manner, 
 endeavoring by all means to serve his friends and to 
 protect and advance the fame of his literary rivals. 
 The head of the Scottish kirk, he set the example of 
 perfect charity in his conduct towards others ; he was 
 intimate with Hume and Kames, the leaders of free 
 inquiry ; he remained the friend of Erskine, the head 
 of the extreme faction in the church. He always 
 inculcated charity as the chief of the virtues, and 
 would never grow more angry than when he heard 
 some scandalous or defamatory remark. 
 
 As an orator, he is pronounced byfds friends to have 
 been the first in Edinburgh, if not in the empire. His 
 voice was fine and mellow, his action graceful, his 
 person tall and imposing. It was easy, therefore, for 
 him, with his clear style and rounded periods, to 
 produce a good impression. Whether, however, he in 
 fact possessed the rare gift of oratory, and was capable, 
 by its inspiration, of moving the feelings and guiding 
 Ihe mind, is not easy to determine. "When he preached 
 he spoke chiefly from notes, but few of his sermons 
 
LOKD CULLEN. 359 
 
 remain to show liis peculiar power in this respect. In 
 the assembly, where he so loAg presided, he was 
 supposed to be the most finished of orators. His 
 manner at last, however, probably grew formal, and 
 the tones of his voice, and the peculiar train of thoughts 
 -in which he indulged, became monotonous and weari- 
 some to his younger hearers. A story is told by Lord 
 Brougham of a joke played off upon the principal by 
 Lord Cullen, which seems to have been one of the few 
 occasions on which his good humor was shaken. It 
 was evening, and the assembly being just met, the 
 principal not having arrived, the room was dimly 
 lighted, and the members sat in silence awaiting their 
 leader. At last he appeared, ascended to his seat, and 
 delivered an address full of all those liberal sentiments 
 which he was accustomed to utter, and marked by the 
 same dignified action and mellow periods that he never 
 failed to use. It was, however, Cullen who had taken 
 his place, for the time, and imitated his peculiar 
 manner. Soon after the real principal came in and 
 delivered a speech very nearly to the same purpose, 
 and with manner, voice, and rhythm very nearly the 
 same as that of Cullen. The assembly burst into a 
 general laugh, and Eobertson, when he found out the 
 joke, seemed vexed and displeased. 
 
 In writing, Robertson had formed his taste on the 
 best models in the language. He studied Swift and 
 Defoe, to acquire a pure narrative style, and always 
 recommended those writers as the best examples 
 
360 HIS STYLE NOT SIMPLE. 
 
 of simplicity and strength. When a young friend 
 asked his advice as -to what works he should read to 
 improve his taste, Robertson told him to study Robin- 
 son Crusoe and Gulliver's Travels. 
 
 Yet his own style cannot well be called simple. Its 
 language is often strained and the rhythm wanting in 
 melody. He always seems to have uttered his thoughts 
 in measured and stately language ; his periods are 
 labored, and he never reaches the simple and natural 
 flow, either of language or thought, which marks the 
 style of Goldsmith and Hume. His mind did not belong 
 to the class of which Swift and Defoe were leading 
 examples ; nor did he ever attain their natural ease in 
 narration or their pure and harmonious English. His 
 style, in fact, has everywhere the traces of imitation, 
 coldness, an artificial language, and an appearance of 
 labor and study. 
 
 The History of Scotland, the only one of his works 
 which approaches the perfect plan of a history, is the 
 best of his productions, the most interesting, and the 
 most naturally written. Although he asserts that he 
 was ten years engaged on it, the size of the work would 
 hardly seem to require so much labor. It hardly 
 exceeds nine hundred pages octavo, and in order to 
 swell it to two volumes he was obliged to add, after- 
 wards, by a few months' labor, a large body of notes. 
 He was always fond of referring to many authorities, 
 and was careful in his researches ; yei he seldom dis- 
 covered any new facts and does little more than relate 
 
HE CHOOSES INTERESTING SUBJECTS. 361 
 
 gracefully the more interesting portions of a well-known 
 narrative. 
 
 He was always happy in the choice of his subjects ; 
 they were of unusual interest and well suited to his 
 peculiar genius. The History of Scotland has both 
 these qualities. It is a careful account of the earlier 
 annals of Scotland, in a very concise form, terminated 
 by a most interesting narrative of the adventures and 
 death of Mary of Scots. The whole work is only a 
 life of that queen introduced by a general essay on 
 Scottish antiquities. 
 
 Such a work could not fail to arouse the national 
 feelings of the Scotch, since it related all the most 
 touching episodes in the annals of their country ; dwelt 
 for a brief space on the eminent names of their history, 
 on Bruce and "Wallace, the Arrans, the Hamiltons and 
 Douglases, and then passed on to adorn with the most 
 eloquent painting the death of their favorite queen. 
 The history of Scotland, too, had been the type of that 
 of Europe. The Scotch had arisen from barbarism to 
 feudalism, had known their own reformation and their 
 own struggle for liberty, and had finally attained peace 
 and prosperity by adopting a liberal form of govern- 
 ment, and by placing a king of their own royal race on 
 the throne of England. It was easy, therefore, for 
 Hobertson, by dwelling upon these animating subjects, 
 as well as by adding an appearance of philosophy and 
 learning, to produce a work that should have unfailing 
 interest for his own countrymen, even had he never 
 
 16 
 
362 HIS VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 
 
 possessed that clear and harmonious style which so 
 delighted the critics of London. 
 
 The history of Charles Y. is another example of the 
 peculiar turn of Robertson's mind towards biography. 
 It is little more than a life of that monarch, prefaced by 
 a, learned account of the progress of modern civilization. 
 Robertson w r as seemingly incapable of forming the plan 
 of any historical work which should not revolve wholly 
 upon the life of a single hero. A history, however, is 
 the biography of a nation, and no work which treats 
 only of an individual can deserve that name. 
 
 The view of" the state of Europe" is the most learned 
 and philosophical of all Robertson's productions. The 
 earlier portion is somewhat dilll, as he relates too many 
 well-known facts, and dwells too long on the commoner 
 causes of the fall of Rome; but his account of the 
 growth of the free cities, of the progress of knowledge, 
 and of the principles which form the base of European 
 civilization, show considerable acuteness and power. 
 Without much novelty, or any bold speculation, the 
 essay shows great labor and a power of thinking clearly 
 as well as of presenting a pleasing theory in a graceful 
 form. 
 
 Yet nothing can be more awkward than the plan of 
 this work. The whole of the first volume, a thick 
 quarto, is consumed in the introduction, and the life of 
 Charles with notes makes up the remaining two. We 
 are presented with a history of the whole civilization of 
 Europe, in order to prepare the way for the narrative 
 
HIS PICTUKES. 363 
 
 of the life of a single king who played but a brief and 
 unimportant part in the affairs of the world; and in 
 Robertson's exaggerated view of his subject, Charles 
 was the aim towards which all the progress of Europe 
 tended, and his age the crowning one of its civiliza- 
 tion. 
 
 When he finally reaches his real subject, the life of 
 his hero, all the natural powers of the writer are at once 
 called into play. He paints, with his usual happy 
 manner, the infancy of Charles, his growing talents, the 
 character of Ximenes, and the general condition of that 
 vast empire which now acknowledged a single ruler. 
 The subject is full of interest, and scarcely needed all 
 the labor and fine writing which Robertson bestowed 
 upon it to give his work a lasting fame. He paints with 
 admirable skill the adventures of the chivalrous Francis, 
 the beginning and progress of the Reformation, the 
 growth of Jesuitism, and the daring character and 
 unceasing labors of the undaunted Luther. At length 
 the biography, after a series of brilliant sketches, reaches 
 its crowning excellence in the account of the abdication 
 of Charles, and there can hardly be found in any 
 language a spectacle of greater interest, or one more 
 happily delineated, than that which Robertson has 
 given of that remarkable event. In his account, how- 
 ever, of the conduct of Charles after his retirement, the 
 historian is supposed to have fallen into a series of 
 errors almost inexcusable, and several later writers have 
 shown, either that his materials were defective or that 
 
364: HISTOEY OF AMERICA. 
 
 he willfully colored his narrative in order to give a more 
 interesting view of the last days of his hero. 
 
 In the preface to Charles V., Eobertson observes that 
 the exploits of the Spanish in America, under Cortes 
 and Pizarro, form a subject too extensive to be 
 properly treated in that work, and that he hopes at 
 some future time to write a separate account of those 
 achievements. This was the origin of the history of 
 America, a series of biographies of Columbus, Cortes 
 and Pizarro, interwoven with various essays on the 
 manners and religious belief of the native inhabitants. 
 This subject has been so fully and gracefully treated by 
 a later historian of our own country, that the defects of 
 Robertson's work need not be indicated. He evidently, 
 however, had but slight acquaintance with the anti- 
 quities of the Peruvian and Aztec races, or, perhaps, 
 chose to neglect those topics for the purpose of directing 
 the chief attention of the reader to his brilliant narrative 
 of the exploits of their conquerors. In these relations, 
 he rises to the highest excellence of his art, and no 
 writer since Plutarch has produced such pure and 
 delightful biographies as are those of Columbus or 
 Cortes. Robertson selects only those facts needful to 
 be known, combines them with singular taste, and fills 
 the imagination with a clear and perfect conception of 
 his hero. 
 
 His geographical writings, comprising the learned 
 introduction to the history of America, are also not 
 inferior to the general tone of his waitings. They are 
 
365 
 
 laborious, accurate and full of interest. Nor is it easy 
 to find anywhere examples of knowledge so happily 
 conveyed, or of deep learning so skillfully brought down 
 to the common understanding. 
 
 In his own age, Robertson was thought to have pro- 
 duced, in his History of Scotland, a perfect model of 
 historical writing ; and Walpole, speaking the common 
 opinion, pronounced him as sagacious and penetrating 
 as Tacitus, as perspicuous as Livy, and with far less 
 partiality than his countryman, Mr. Hume. At least, 
 he must be considered the most perfect of modern 
 biographers. In this respect, time only lends value to 
 his productions, and they will, doubtless, continue to 
 be read as long as the language, which he so aided in 
 purifying and improving, shall be spoken among men. 
 
GEOEGE LOKD LYTTLETOK 
 
 THE life of Ly ttleton has been written by Dr. John- 
 son, in his usual concise and careful manner, omitting 
 "whatever is unimportant, and telling every thing that 
 the reader would most wish to know. All that I can hope 
 to do, therefore, is to enlarge upon his narrative by such 
 new particulars as later materials have placed within 
 my reach. The father of the historian was Sir Thomas 
 Ly ttleton, baronet, a person of large fortune, and of 
 considerable political influence. He married Christian, 
 the younger of the two sisters of Sir Eichard Temple, 
 of Stowe, afterwards Yiscount Cobham; and by his 
 marriage had five sons, all of whom rose to influential 
 stations, and were in some measure conspicuous. George, 
 the eldest, was born 17th January, 1709. He was edu- 
 cated at Eton, where he was " so much distinguished," 
 says Dr. Johnson, " that his exercises were recommended 
 as models to his schoolfellows." 
 
 From thence he went to Oxford, where he continued 
 to display the same taste for study and early made him- 
 self some reputation as a poet by his poem on " Blen- 
 
HIS MANNERS. 367 
 
 lieim. Here, too, lie probably wrote his " Progress of 
 Love," and the " Persian Letters." After a short stay at 
 Oxford he began his travels in 1728, with the design of 
 performing what was then called the grand tour, and 
 meant usually a visit to France and Italy. He stopped 
 for some time at Luneville, the capital of the little sove- 
 reignty of Lorraine, where his father desired him to 
 perfect himself in the French, as well as to improve his 
 manner, and acquire ease and grace in society. 
 
 These last accomplishments, however, nature had for 
 ever debarred him from possessing. His appearance 
 was awkward and unattractive; and his nervous man- 
 ner and restless carriage made him ill at ease, except 
 among his familiar friends. Johnson thinks, with par- 
 donable blindness, that the term " respectable Hotten- 
 tots," which Chesterfield has applied to himself, was 
 meant for Lyttleton : a mistake that shows at least that 
 there must have been good grounds for having committed 
 it. Probably he made more progress in the language, 
 for he seems to have written French with considerable 
 ease. But from the first he had become dissatisfied 
 with Luneville. Always strict in his morals, Lyttleton 
 was shocked at the dissipation of the little court. Its 
 chief amusements were gaming and the chase, for neither 
 of which he had any taste, while he made some errors 
 in etiquette, which long hung heavy on his mind, par- 
 ticularly as he was at that period of life, when such 
 trifles make a serious impression. From Luneville he 
 wrote to his father various kind and dutiful letters, 
 
368 GOES TO SOISSONS. 
 
 which show him to have been a considerate and excel- 
 lent son, and are the best authorities for that "period of 
 his life. 
 
 Having obtained the consent of his father, he next 
 went to Soissons, where was sitting the celebrated con- 
 gress. Here he made the acquaintance of Mr. Poyntz, 
 one of the British commissioners, who not only culti- 
 vated his society, but employed him in the course of 
 the negotiations. At the close of the conference, Mr. 
 Poyntz was made ambassador to Paris : there Lyttleton 
 accompanied him ; was employed by him in various 
 important business, and found an entrance into all the 
 society of the capital. His father seems now to have 
 been somewhat anxious about his morals; but Mr. 
 Poyntz assures him, in one of his letters, that the bad 
 examples of Paris or any other place could have no 
 effect upon his son ; and he prophesies that Lyttleton 
 will become an ornament to his country and his friends 
 if he can only withdraw himself from too great atten- 
 tion to literature, and attend more heartily to business. 
 From Paris Lyttleton wrote a poetical letter to Dr. 
 Ascough, at Oxford, and another to Pope from Borne. 
 These poems, like all his poetical writings, are smooth, 
 and generally correct ; but show no unusual refinement 
 of taste nor any ear for harmony. The " Epistle to 
 Belinda," published in 1731, is a feeble effort to imitate 
 the " Universal Passion" of Young. 
 
 Lyttleton having returned to England with a great 
 reputation for talents and good character, was now to 
 
PITT AND GKENVILLE. 369 
 
 make his way in public life. Early ambitious of dis- 
 tinction, lie had already tried literature, with a success 
 greater than his merit ; and he now turned himself to 
 politics, to attain advancement in a similar manner. 
 In 1733, Frederick Prince of Wales, having formed an 
 opposition against his father, George II. and his minister 
 Walpole, selected Lyttleton for his secretary and confi- 
 dential adviser. Not long a&er, in 1735, he obtained a 
 seat in Parliament, and prepared to enter upon a struggle 
 for office and emolument. 
 
 By his connections, no less than his -reputation, he 
 had every prospect of rapid success. He formed one 
 of that powerful family connection of which William 
 Pitt and George Grenville became finally the leading 
 members. He was nephew to Temple, Yiscount Cob- 
 ham, and cousin to Richard Grenville, afterwards Earl 
 Temple, and to George Grenville, the famous minister. 
 "William Pitt, afterwards Earl of Chatham, married his 
 cousin, and his own sister was married to Pitt's elder" 
 brother, while many of his relatives, in the gradual rise 
 of the family, gained high stations among the leading 
 aristocracy. 
 
 In the Parliament into which he now entered, Lyttle- 
 ton formed one of the opposition to Sir Robert Walpole, 
 who had so long ruled over England with tact and dis- 
 cretion. In the same assembly, for the first time, 
 "William Pitt and George Grenville entered upon public 
 life. They were all three young men little known to 
 politicians, nor did either probably foresee at that period 
 
3TO THE COTJSINHOOD. 
 
 the great influence to which they were finally to attain. 
 Chatham had not yet made his first speech, and George 
 Grenville was almost unknown. Of the three relatives, 
 Lyttleton was by far the most conspicuous, and gave 
 the best promise of future advancement. When they 
 began their first attacks upon Walpole, he contented 
 himself with sneering at them as " boy patriots ;" and 
 when at length they rose to power, they were known 
 among politicians as the " Cousinhood." It is remark- 
 able, however, that Lyttleton, who began his parlia- 
 mentary career with the brightest promise, soon fell 
 behind his relatives, and never gained anything of that 
 influence which belonged to Pitt and Grenville. 
 
 "-For many years," says Johnson, "the name of 
 George Lyttletcn was seen in every account of every 
 debate in the House of Commons. He opposed the 
 standing army, he opposed the excise he supported 
 the motion for the removal of Walpole. His zeal was 
 considered by the courtiers as not only violent, but 
 acrimonious and malignant." 
 
 He could not, however, have opposed the excise, as 
 that was given up by Walpole in 1737. Nor can the 
 " courtiers" have been right in their estimate of his zeal 
 or his motives : he was no doubt impelled by that 
 sincere passion for liberty which is common to young 
 minds, to oppose what he believed to be arbitrary and 
 tyrannical measures ; and although he may have gradu- 
 ally lost some of his warmth, he never gave up wholly 
 his love for liberty. 
 
HIS LITERARY FRIENDS. 371 
 
 While secretary to the Prince of Wales, his fondness 
 for letters led him to aid several of the authors of the 
 day, by placing them in various posts about the prince. 
 He counselled the prince to enlist literature on his side, 
 and was no doubt the chief source of his liberality to 
 literary men. With Thomson he long retained a sin- 
 cere friendship, and when the poet died he brought out 
 a corrected edition of his works. In this edition lie 
 ventured to amend "Liberty," by leaving out much 
 that the poet had written; and at one time lie even 
 entertained the strange idea of improving the " Seasons" 
 by a similar correction. Mr. Phillirnore, his last bio- 
 grapher, has found a copy of the poem prepared in this 
 manner for printing. But fortunately for his own repu- 
 tation, as well as that of the poet, he soon gave up .his 
 design. 
 
 Mallet, Moore, West, and Hammond were also friends 
 of Lyttleton, and he became generally known as a 
 critic whose favor it was well to propitiate, and who 
 was well disposed towards all rising authors. Hume, 
 at a later period, made some advances towards his 
 acquaintance, w r hich never ripened into any good feel- 
 ing on either side, while Robertson was immediately 
 received into favor, and was overwhelmed with praise 
 and regard. Like many men of moderate talent, Lyttle- 
 ton's criticisms were governed by his feelings as much 
 as by his intellect. 
 
 He was now " in the front rank of opposition," says 
 Johnson, " and Pope, who was incited, it is not easy to 
 
372 HE MARKIES. 
 
 say how, to increase the clamor against the ministry, 
 commended him among the other patriots. This drew 
 upon him the reproaches of Fox, who in the House 
 imputed to him as a crime his intimacy with a lam- 
 pooner so unjust and licentious. Lyttleton supported 
 his friend, and replied that he thought it an honor to 
 be received into the familiarity of so great a poet." 
 
 In 1741 he married Miss Lucy Fortescue, of Devon- 
 shire, with whom he lived for several years in great 
 happiness, when she died in childbed, leaving a son, 
 afterwards Lord Lyttleton, and two daughters. This 
 son became as renowned for his dissipation and unbe- 
 lief as his father had been for the opposite qualities, 
 and his conduct embittered the close of Lyttleton's life. 
 
 Not long after his marriage, the ministry of "Walpole 
 fell, and the Temple connection came into power. 
 Their accession to office can hardly be thought a benefit 
 to their country, since under their auspices began that 
 course of policy which ended in the freedom of 
 America. In 1744 Lyttleton was made lord of the 
 treasury, and from that time seems never to have lived 
 satisfied out of office. 
 
 It was during this period of his life, however, or not 
 long befoi e, while apparently immersed in schemes of 
 personal aggrandizement, that he began to reflect upon 
 the subject of religion, and was finally convinced of 
 the truth and importance of Christianity. He was not, 
 as is commonly supposed, an infidel at the time of this 
 change, but had probably been much shaken in his 
 
HIS CONVERSION. 373 
 
 faith by the arguments of his unbelieving associates. 
 His uncle, Lord Cobham, who seems to have had great 
 influence in the family, belonged to the class of free- 
 thinkers, and many others of Lyttleton's acquaintance 
 secretly cherished the same opinions. His father, how- 
 ever, was a person of sincere piety, and the son was 
 also greatly influenced by his friend Gilbert "West, who 
 had lately been won over to Christianity from being 
 one of its most sincere opponents. Johnson, in his 
 " Life of West," says , " "West was very often visited by 
 Lyttleton and. Pitt, who, when they were weary of 
 faction and debates, used at Wickham to find books, 
 cpiet, a decent table, and literary conversation. There 
 is at Wickham a walk made by Pitt, and what is of far 
 more importance, at "Wickham Lyttleton received that 
 conviction which produced his ' Dissertation on St. 
 Paul.' These two illustrious friends had listened to the 
 blandishments of infidelity ; and when "West's ' Obser- 
 vations on the Resurrection" were published, it was 
 bought by some who did not know his change of 
 opinion, in expectation of more objections against 
 Christianity." 
 
 In 1747 Lyttleton published his " Observations on the 
 Conversion of St. Paul," a work which Johnson evi- 
 dently thought unanswerable, and which still maintains 
 a great reputation among thoughtful men. Lyttleton 
 wrote with all the ardor of sincerity, and he inculcates 
 truth with clearness 'and force. The best applause 
 which he received for his production was the following 
 letter from his father : 
 
374 POLITICAL CONNECTIONS. 
 
 " I have read your religious treatise " (he writes) " with infinite plea- 
 sure and satisfaction. The style is fine and clear, the arguments close, 
 cogent, and irresistible. May the King of kings, whose glorious cause 
 you have so well defended, reward your pious labors, and grant that I 
 may be found worthy, through the merits of Jesus Christ, to be an eye- 
 witness of that happiness which I doubt not he will bountifully bestow 
 upon you. In the mean time I shall never cease glorifying God for 
 having endowed you with such useful talents, and giving me so good a 
 son. Your affectionate father, 
 
 THOMAS LTTTLETON. 
 
 A few years after, in 1Y51, this good parent died, 
 leaving to his sou a baronet's title, with a large estate. 
 He was now, therefore, placed in a position of affluence 
 which might well have satisfied his desires, had not 
 ambition urged him to continue his political efforts. 
 
 As a politician Lyttleton had formed many connec- 
 tions, which, however brilliant in themselves, could 
 have had but an unhappy influence on his character, 
 and it becomes the more wonderful that in so loose an 
 age, associating with the free-thinkers and libertines of 
 &e time, he should have so well preserved his own 
 purity and faith. He was long connected with Boling- 
 broke, the deist, and Chesterfield the gentlemanly 
 unbeliever ; he corresponded with Yoltaire, and was 
 the patron of Mallet. During his political career, how- 
 ever, his character has not escaped reproach. He 
 was thought at times to have sacrificed his consistency 
 to his love of office, and sometimes to have acted in a 
 manner that seemed treacherous and insincere. He 
 suddenly abandoned the Prince of Wales, with whom 
 he had been so long connected, to take office in 1Y44 
 
THE "DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD." 375 
 
 under Pelham, while ten years later, he abandoned Pitt 
 to become chancellor of the exchequer in the new 
 ministry. Pitt, however, soon succeeded in driving 
 his enemies from office, and Lyttleton loosing his chan- 
 cellorship, received a peerage. This was the close of 
 his official life, and he now once more returned to the 
 studies of his youth. In 1755 he had made a journey 
 to Wales, an account of which he gave in a letter to 
 Archibald Bower, a man who long retained his friend- 
 ship although he seems never to have deserved it. 
 Like most good men he was easily deceived, and hoped 
 to find in others that sincerity which he possessed him- 
 self. His " Dialogues of the Dead " appeared in 1760, 
 " which," says Johnson, " were very eagerly read, 
 though the production rather, as it seems, of leisure 
 than of study ; rather effusions than compositions. 
 The names of his persons, too, often enable the reader 
 to anticipate their conversation ; and when they have 
 met, they too often part without any conclusion. He 
 lias copied Fenelon more than Fontenelle." 
 
 " "When they were first published, they were kindly 
 commended by the critical reviewers ; and poor Lyttle- 
 ton, with humble gratitude, returned, in a note, which I 
 have read, acknowledgments which can never be 
 proper since they must be paid either for flattery or for 
 justice." 
 
 In all his literary career Lyttleton had hitherto been 
 a professed imitator ; he had followed Pope in poetry, 
 Montesquieu in his Persian letters, and Fontenelle in 
 
376 ms HISTORY. 
 
 his "Dialogues of tlie Dead." But now that leisure 
 seemed given him for more extended labors, he began 
 to press forward a, larger work upon which he had long 
 been engaged, and which had been making gradual 
 progress during all his political career. This was his 
 " History of Henry H.," a work which was more pain- 
 fully elaborated than almost any other in literature. 
 In 1741, Lyttleton had told Pope that it would be 
 ready in two or three years, but was not finally pub- 
 lished until twenty-three years afterwards, when three 
 volumes only were printed, the conclusion not appear- 
 ing until 1771. Johnson speaks of the work with a 
 contempt which is not undeserved. The subject Lyt- 
 tleton had selected, because it seemed to give the origin 
 of the British constitution and to support those political 
 views which were held by his party. But the period 
 lay too far back to be of much interest to the public ; 
 nor had the author any of those charms of manner or 
 arrangement which lend interest to any theme. His 
 style was cold and heavy, without a trace of fancy or 
 any of the peculiar graces of the historian. Lyttleton 
 possessed plain sense and an industrious intellect, but 
 he never rose in any of his productions above the level 
 of a second-rate writer. 
 
 Among his friends, however, and in the literary 
 circles of the capital, the work was w r ell spoken of. 
 Horace Walpole writes of it, to the author, in the 
 following manner: "I twice waited on you in. Hill- 
 street, to thank you for lending me your " History," 
 
ITS LABOR. 377 
 
 which I am sorry I kept longer than you intended ; but 
 you must not wonder. I read it with, as great attention 
 as pleasure ; it is not a book to skim but to learn by 
 heart, if one means to learn anything of England. 
 You call it the " History of Henry H. it is literally 
 the History of our Constitution, and will last much 
 longer than, I fear, the latter will ; for, alas ! my Lord, 
 your style, which will fix and preserve our language, 
 cannot do what language cannot do reform the nature 
 of man." 
 
 With these prettinesses and artificial compliments 
 Lyttleton was probably satisfied, and believed that he 
 had indeed produced a work which should live for ever. 
 His care in printing was so excessive and unusual as 
 was equalled only by his labor in writing. The whole 
 work was printed twice over, a great part of it three 
 times, and many sheets four or five times. These costly 
 advantages were paid for by the author, who is said to 
 have expended a thousand pounds in getting out his 
 work. It was nearly ten years printing, having been 
 commenced in 1755, and the copy which Walpole 
 saw in 1758 was one printed only for the use of the 
 author. 
 
 " Andrew Reid," says Johnson, " a man not without 
 considerable abilities, undertook to persuade Lyttleton, 
 as he had persuaded himself, that he was master of the 
 secret of punctuation ; and as fear begets credulity, he 
 was employed, I know not at what price, to point the 
 pages of < Henry the Second" When time brought 
 the history to a third edition, Reid was either dead or 
 
378 ITS STYLE AND SUBJECT. 
 
 discarded ; and the superintendence of typography and 
 punctuation was committed to a man originally a comb- 
 maker, but then known by the style of Doctor. Some- 
 thing uncommon was probably expected, and something 
 uncommon was at last done ; for to the doctor's edition 
 is appended what the world had hardly seen before, a 
 list of errors in nineteen pages." 
 
 The history, notwithstanding its moderate merit, 
 passed through several editions, and was read with plea- 
 sure and profit by the whigs of the time. Lyttleton, so 
 influential by his political connections, his wide circle 
 of literary acquaintance, and the general opinion of his 
 character and abilities, could not fail to win sufficient 
 applause to satisfy his vanity, and was unconscious how 
 soon after these exterior advantages had passed away, 
 his book must sink into oblivion. 
 
 The work was, in fact, highly instructive, learned, 
 careful, and accurate, but like many another of that 
 description, wanted the crowning touch of genius to 
 give it lasting importance. Its whole plan and form 
 was tedious and uninviting. Lyttleton had pursued, 
 through five dreary volumes, the life of a king who 
 had been long forgotten by the public, and whose 
 reign, with one or two striking episodes, had been dull 
 and unimportant. His work is as long as the whole of 
 Hume's History of England, and while that graceful 
 writer had condensed in a few pages the Life of Henry 
 II., Lyttleton gave to one reign labor and space suffi- 
 cient for the history of the nation. 
 
 The work, too, was little more than a party pamphlet 
 
HE IS A LEADING CRITIC. 379 
 
 written to sustain the political theories of the whigs, 
 and even in the preface he takes occasion to laud the 
 Bevolution of 1688 and to declaim against the growth 
 of prerogative. His style, clear and easy, is altogether 
 uninteresting ; and he evidently had no power to rise 
 above the dullness of a common chronicler. There is 
 scarcely to be found in all his volumes a single passage 
 of interest, a single character painted with skill and 
 warmth, or any trace of thought, or fancy. Lyttleton 
 was neither a poet, philosopher, nor possessed of any 
 trace of genius, and while looked upon as the best 
 critic of the time, he could have had no just conception 
 of merit in writing. 
 
 Yet he was now giving law to the world of letters, 
 and with Chesterfield and Garrick held undisputed 
 sway. He had always been fond of the society of men 
 of letters, a taste that his position and influence easily 
 enabled him to gratify. In early life he had been 
 intimate with Pope, and had cultivated the friendship 
 of that poet by dull verses in his praise. He spent 
 much time in the learned and noble society of Twick- 
 enham, was esteemed by Lord Bolingbroke, and was 
 often at Dawley with Pultney and Pope. Thomson 
 had been his chosen friend, and with Mallet, Hammond, 
 and Moore he had ever been familiar. Towards the 
 close of his life he still continued to visit at Garrick's 
 and to join the literary assemblies of Mrs. Montague 
 and perhaps Mrs. Yesey. He knew Johnson slightly, 
 and had some acquaintance with that new race of 
 
380 HIS OKATOEY. 
 
 authors, who, united *in the Literary Club, liad arisen to 
 control the world of letters. 
 
 One of the least pleasant passages in his political life 
 occurred towards its close ; he quarrelled with all those 
 gifted relatives with whom he had began his career, and 
 found himself in open hostility to Pitt, the Grenvilles 
 and the whole " cousinhood." He even fell into a 
 violent dispute with the Earl of Temple in the House 
 of Lords, and for a time could never speak of Pitt or 
 Temple without all the bitterness of a partisan. At 
 length, however, in the changes of politics, the old 
 allies reunited, and Lyttleton sustained the Grenvilles 
 in all those measures that led to the loss of America. 
 
 As a parliamentary speaker, Lyttleton seems to have 
 been little more happy than as a writer. He thought 
 himself an orator, but was lost in the crowd of inferior 
 speakers. His position and character gave weight to 
 whatever he said, and he was always heard with respect. 
 His constitutional knowledge was considerable, and he 
 had certainly a passion for what he believed to be 
 liberty; but his political theories were all superficial, 
 and he could advocate oppression in America while he 
 upheld freedom at home. 
 
 In private life he seems to have been amiable and 
 popular. He lived at Hagley, his family seat, which 
 he had adorned with a fine new mansion, and had culti- 
 vated and laid out the grounds with the ardor of a 
 Shenstone. Here he was fond of entertaining an agree- 
 able circle of friends, composed of the most learned and 
 
THE CLOSE OF HIS LIFE. 381 
 
 gifted intellects of the day. His disposition had always 
 been cheerful ; he had known few of the common ills of 
 life and had possessed a prosperity unusual even among 
 the great. Several circumstances, however, marred his 
 perfect enjoyment. Some years after the death of his 
 first wife he had married Miss Rich, daughter of Sir 
 Robert Eich, a connection which did not add to his 
 happiness. His eldest son, too, who in early youth 
 seemed to give great promise, as he grew up became 
 one of the most dissolute rakes of the time. His con- 
 duct gave constant uneasiness to his father and destroyed 
 for ever his hopes of domestic peace. 
 
 Lyttleton had never strong health, his frame was 
 always tender and his appearance delicate. At sixty 
 he was seized with an illness which fmally proved fatal. 
 As he drew near his end all those Christian impulses 
 which sustained him through life grew stronger at its 
 close. u Doctor," he said to his excellent physician, 
 " you shall be my confessor. When I first set out in 
 the world, I had friends who endeavored to shake my 
 belief in the Christian religion. I saw difficulties which 
 staggered me, but I kept my mind open to conviction. 
 The evidences and doctrines of Christianity studied 
 with attention made me a most firm and persuaded 
 believer in the Christian religion. I have made it the 
 rule of my life and it is the ground of my future hopes. 
 I have erred and sinned, but have repented, and never* 
 indulged any vicious habit. In politics and public life 
 I have made public good the rule of my conduct. I 
 
382 ins DEATH, 
 
 never gave counsels which I did not at the time think 
 the best. I have seen that I was sometimes in the 
 wrong, but I did not err designedly. I have endeavored 
 in private life to do all the good in my power, and 
 never for a moment could indulge in malicious or unjust 
 designs upon any person whatsoever." 
 
 This is the parting self-examination of a well meaning 
 and virtuous man. Lyttleton, although no high exam- 
 ple of excellence, was, at least, harmless and benevolent. 
 He had always lived too much in luxury and self-indul- 
 gence to understand exactly what were the duties of the 
 Christian, but as far as he knew them he endeavored to 
 fulfill them. He had always acted upon the selfish 
 principle of avoiding evil rather than with ardor and 
 enthusiasm to do good ; and it is to be feared that even 
 Lyttleton, pure as he was, left much undone that he 
 might have done, and saw but a small part of the 
 meaning of the faith he professed. 
 
 His death, after much suffering, was finally easy and 
 tranquil. He said to Lord Yalentia, a few hours before 
 he died : "Be good, be virtuous, my lord ; you must 
 come to this." He gave all around him a benediction, 
 and left the world with a blessing on his lips. 
 
 He was buried at Hagley, and the following inscrip- 
 tion was cut on the side of his lady's monument : 
 
 This unadorned stone was placed here 
 
 by the particular desire and express 
 
 directions of the Right Honorable 
 
 GEORGE LORD LYTTLETON, 
 Who died August 22, 1773, aged 64. 
 
III3 LITEIiAJlY K IMPUTATION. 383 
 
 His literary reputation in a great measure died with 
 him ; his poems are long since forgotten and his 
 prose writings have little merit. The Persian letters, 
 the most' amusing of them all, were written while he 
 was very young, and are a tolerable imitation of Mon- 
 tesquieu. They contain passages indelicate and coarse, 
 and could hardly be placed in the hands of the young 
 and pure of our own day. They probably gave rise, 
 however, to Goldsmith's Citizen of the World, and by 
 their popularity led that delightful writer to imitate and 
 surpass them. But Goldsmith's letters are the perfect 
 and graceful productions of a man of genius, Lyttleton's 
 those of a coarse and inferior artist. 
 
 His correspondence is often agreeable and interesting. 
 His remarks on his travels and the society he met 
 abroad are the best of his writings; his letter from 
 Wales to Bower is a far more pleasing production than 
 the history, and he seems always to succeed better in 
 trifles than when he attempted any laborious work. 
 
 The " Dialogues" Johnson dismisses with a con- 
 temptous criticism, yet they may even now be read 
 with some profit. Falkland and Hampdeii talk of 
 liberty in a manner which shows, at least, what were 
 Lyttleton's opinions of that subject as well as those of 
 his party, and the dialogue between the savage and the 
 duellist may be of use to many of our own day who still 
 uphold the code of honor. Pope and Boileau discuss 
 Shakspeare with little feeling of his real merits, and 
 Pericles and Cosmo contrast the sentiments of Greece 
 
384 THE GHAEACTEE OF HIS WOKKS. 
 
 and Florence. In our own time "Walter Savage Landor 
 has adopted and improved upon the model of Lyttleton, 
 and when his heroes talk they are certain to say some- 
 thing new. 
 
 In general, Lyttleton was a laborious and careful 
 writer, with no imagination, little feeling, and capable 
 of few great or stirring thoughts. His history will, no 
 doubt, be read by all writers upon that subject as a 
 store-house of materials ; but his fame will rest rather 
 upon the purity and elevation of his character than 
 upon his intellectual merit. 
 
TOBIAS SMOLLET. 
 
 TOBIAS SMOLLET was' born in 1721, at the farm of 
 DalcLuhurn, on the banks of the Leven, amid fine and 
 striking scenery, which seems early to have delighted 
 him. His father was the son of Sir James Smollet, of 
 Bonhill ; but, having married, against his father's con- 
 sent, a lady of no fortune, died, leaving two sons and a 
 daughter, together with his wife, dependent on Sir 
 James for support. The elder son went into the army, 
 and was lost off the coasfc of America ; the younger, 
 Tobias, was sent to school at Dumbarton, and soon be- 
 gan to show traces of an intellect above the common 
 order. He wrote verses in honor of "William Wallace, 
 the national hero, several of whose exploits had taken 
 place near Dumbarton; and whose adventures and 
 patrioticlife filled young Smollet with enthusiasm. 
 
 He was also remarkable for great liveliness of spirits, 
 taking part in all school-boy frolics, and enjoying prac- 
 tical joking and rough play with an ardor that supplied 
 him with many amusing reminiscences for his novels. 
 He next went to Glasgow, to be apprenticed to a sur- 
 
 17 
 
386 HIS FERST TRAGEDY. 
 
 geon, and to attend lectures at the University; and here 
 "he was known as a sarcastic, daring and ungovernable 
 student, fond of ridiculing his superiors, and of course 
 by no means popular among the heads of the University. 
 By the death of his grandfather, which now happened, 
 Smollet was left penniless, and he next went up to Lon- 
 don, with little money, but many recommendations from 
 his friends, to seek a maintenance. He was at length 
 employed as surgeon's mate on board a ship of the line 
 that went with the unlucky expedition to Carthagena ; 
 and here he gained that knowledge of the hardships of 
 sea-life and of the peculiar character of sailors, which 
 gives a coarse interest to several of his novels. Although 
 certain of promotion, he had become disgusted with the 
 sea; and, having left his ship, went to live at Jamaica, 
 where he married a lady of the name of Lascelles. In 
 1Y45 he came back to London, with the hope of living 
 by literature. 
 
 He had already experienced, however, some of the 
 mortifications of a literary life. His first tragedy, " The 
 Kegicide," written at eighteen, was rejected at all the 
 theatres, and he was forced to publish it by subscrip- 
 tion. An opera, which he offered to Eich, was also 
 refused; upon which the disappointed author com- 
 plained and lamented as if none but himself had ever 
 been thus treated. 
 
 His talents did not fit him to write either tragedy or 
 opera; but several poems, which he now produced, are 
 full of sweetness and power. " Leven "Water" is one 
 
RODERICK RANDOM. 387 
 
 of the finest odes in the language, and the " Tears of 
 Scotland" have still an interest for the people of that 
 patriotic country. The ode to Independence, too, is 
 strong, vigorous, rough and effective, and has in it 
 something of the poetic element which will not let it 
 die. 
 
 But in his twenty-seventh year, in 1748, Smollet 
 struck upon that literary vein which was to yield him 
 his widest reputation. He now published his " Roderick 
 Kandom," a book that was more generally read than 
 probably any novel of the time. Coarse, indecent, and 
 rough, the intellect of Smollet is happily developed in 
 tliis production. It is in a measure the history of his 
 own varying life, and is often natural and affecting. 
 Here, too, he introduces the British sailor, in the per- 
 son of Tom Bowling, the first of that long series of 
 naval heroes who have since enlivened English litera- 
 ture. Brave, generous, rough and candid, the surly 
 and irascible sailor, so devoted to his profession and his 
 ship, was a creation that had too much originality and 
 power ever to be forgotten ; and later writers of sea- 
 tales have seldom departed from the model given by 
 Smollet. 
 
 Roderick Random, too, contained many allusions to 
 notorious characters of the time, and was full of Smollet's 
 rough and sarcastic humor. He narrowly observed the 
 most disagreeable side of life, and was more intent upon 
 extracting from it disgusts and miseries, than in softening 
 and smoothing those that are inevitable. His jokes are 
 
388 PEREGRINE PICKLE. 
 
 vulgar and laughable, his stories thos^ of the cockpit of 
 a man-of-war; but he found the public was not fastidi- 
 ous, and never after made any pretence to delicacy. 
 
 He was now an author of wide reputation, and began 
 to find that literature was profitable. In 1750, he 
 visited Paris, his mind already revolving the plot of 
 " Peregrine Pickle." This laughable and indecent book 
 is chiefly enlivened by its sea characters, its coarse 
 jokes and overstrained wit. Smollet was, however, 
 possessed of considerable learning, and the classical 
 feast which he paints, at which the poet Akenside is 
 supposed to have stood for the learned physician, shows 
 humor of a higher order than anything he has produced. 
 Through all his writings his Jacobite inclinations con- 
 stantly overflow; and he touches skillfully, although 
 rudely, the romantic chord in the Scottish nature, their 
 love for the unfortunate Stuarts. The " Tears of Scot- 
 land" gained much of its popularity from this circum- 
 stance ; and, in fact, Smollet's strong prejudices on 
 every subject, have been of no little use to his 
 fame. 
 
 In Peregrine Pickle he ridicules the French with 
 keen and ready satire ; and when he wrote his " Travels" 
 he continued the same strain of contempt for every 
 thing foreign. "With a large portion of his countrymen 
 this added interest to his work ; they delighted to hear 
 the French mounseers ridiculed, and their weaknesses 
 and national peculiarities painted with Smollet's coarse 
 and vigorous wit. And as Smollet had to live by 
 
HE VISITS SCOTLAND. 389 
 
 literature, he indulged his readers at the expense of 
 good taste and generosity. 
 
 Yarious novels succeeded one another from his ready 
 pen, all possessed of the same rough interest and the 
 same repulsive features. He translated "Gil Bias," 
 and published " Count Fathom," and " Sir Launcelot 
 Greaves ;" but was also engaged in a periodical, which, 
 owing to his rude and violent nature gave him no little 
 trouble. 
 
 After a short visit to Scotland, where he saw his 
 mother after many years' separation, and renewed his 
 recollections of Leven "Water, he returned to London to 
 edit the Critical Eeview. This he continued for several 
 years, but, unhappily, brought into criticism a violence 
 and sarcasm that involved him in various troubles. He 
 reviewed Grainger's Tibullus with such bitterness as to 
 produce a violent quarrel with that author ; and about 
 the same time he was prosecuted for assault upon a 
 person, whom he had caned for some real or fancied 
 injury. Smollet was acquitted, but wrote an angry 
 letter to the opposing counsel which gave no favorable 
 indication of his temper. 
 
 Soon after, having made some severe strictures upon 
 Admiral Knowles' pamphlet, the admiral prosecuted 
 him for libel and gained a verdict of three hundred 
 pounds, besides imprisonment of three months in the 
 King's Bench. Here Smollet lay for some time, never 
 idle nor disheartened, while Garrick, whom he had 
 abused and satirized with extreme violence, now brought 
 
390 HISTORY OF ENGLAITO. 
 
 out for him a farce called " the Reprisals," and Smollet, 
 touched with his generosity, wrote to him that he should 
 ever find his gratitude as warm as his other passions. 
 
 He now engaged to write his History of England, a 
 work which was written more rapidly than probably 
 any other of its kind. Four large quarto volumes 
 Smollet composed in fourteen months. But the author 
 was now a well known and popular writer, and even 
 his eccentricities and faults added to his popularity. 
 His history, therefore, sold with uncommon rapidity, 
 and the copy money he received for it exceeded all that 
 Hume or Eobertson gained by their earlier works. 
 
 Smollet was a Jacobite and of course a tory ; he sus- 
 tained the measures of the Earl of Bute, the unpopular 
 Scotch minister of George H., and now commenced a 
 weekly paper, called "The Briton," in defence of the 
 court party. This gave rise to the more famous " North 
 Briton," of John "Wilkes, who, although he had long 
 lived in friendship with Smollet, took the opportunity 
 of bringing himself into notice by attacking his princi- 
 ples and abusing his party. 
 
 Notwithstanding his wide fame and the ready sale of 
 his writings, Smollet had kept himself poor by his 
 imprudence, and had made no use of his ministerial 
 friends to obtain any permanent support. His peculiar 
 and hasty temperament seems to have alienated Ms 
 friends, while his sarcastic turn gave offence to many 
 who might easily have aided him. The death of his 
 only daughter, who died in her fifteenth year, seems 
 
HIS TRAVELS. 391 
 
 to have increased the depression of his spirits and 
 plunged him in a lasting melancholy. Hoping to find 
 some relief in change of scene, he went abroad, visited 
 France and Italy, and on his return wrote an account 
 of his travels. 
 
 These letters show that his diseased and melancholy 
 mind was far from being improved by his journey. He 
 sees everywhere only causes of disgust, misery and 
 despair. Nothing is beautiful in nature or perfect in 
 art. The Yenus de Medici is no better than she should 
 be, and the Pantheon only a huge cockpit. He had 
 been cheated at inns, devoured by fleas, racked by bad 
 roads and worse vehicles, until nothing but a few strokes 
 of grim humor relieve the wretchedness of his picture. 
 " The learned Smelfungus," says Sterne, " travelled from 
 Boulogne to Paris, from Paris to Rome, and so on ; but 
 he set out with the spleen and jaundice, and every object 
 he passed by was discolored and distorted. Til tell 
 it,' said Smelfungus, ' to the world.' ' You had better 
 tell it,' said I, to your physician.' ' : 
 
 He visited Edinburgh in bad health in 1776, where 
 he saw his mother and passed some time with his cousin, 
 Mr. Smollet, of Bonhill; on his return he wrote his 
 " History and Adventures of an Atom," a political work 
 full of his usual bitterness and ill humor, and well fitted 
 to please neither his friends rior his enemies. In fact, 
 Smollet was never long satisfied with any one and easily 
 found some cause of complaint against his friends, and 
 fancied injustice and neglect in those who were best 
 
392 HIS OLD AGE. 
 
 affected towards him. Soon after appeared the least 
 indecent of his novels, " Humphrey Clinker," and which 
 still showed all his native humor. 
 
 But he was now fast sinking into the misfortunes and 
 difficulties of poverty and old age. The fortune he had 
 received with his wife. Miss Lascelles, was less than he 
 had looked for, and had long since been dissipated in 
 extravagant living. His mind was no longer fertile or 
 his body active, and he could no more rely upon his 
 pen for support. His health, too, obliged him to travel, 
 but his friends in vain applied to the ministry to give 
 him the small post of consul at Naples or Genoa, to 
 enable him to support the expense of a journey. Mr. 
 Hume, among others, interceded for him, but the 
 ministry were obdurate ; they refused to the suffering 
 man of genius the trifle they gave to the lowest of their 
 own partisans. 
 
 Smollet, however, found means in 1770 to visit Italy, 
 probably through the generosity of his friends. He 
 remained a short time at Leghorn and then went to 
 Monte Nuovo, where he died October, 1771, in his 51st 
 year. 
 
 Smollet was well formed and dignified in appearance, 
 his countenance pleasing, and as he was fond of society 
 had lived with profuseness, keeping a liberal table and 
 entertaining much company. His conversation was, 
 like his writings, original, coarse and amusing; his 
 manners were easy and his company always acceptable. 
 
 From youth his disposition seems to have been of 
 
HIS NATURE. 393 
 
 that melancholy yet humorous turn which is not unfre- 
 quent to be met with ; everything seemed to present 
 itself to him in a double aspect of sadness and of humor. 
 He saw in life little beautiful, generous, refined, or 
 attractive ; but he noticed much that gave rise to laugh- 
 ter and sadness. His disposition was not inclined to 
 mockery and lightness ; yet everything that he saw 
 seemed to awaken in him the sensation of bitter mirth. 
 He scoffed at what all other men admired, and seemed 
 dead to enthusiasm in art or character. 
 
 His nature, however, was generous, forgiving, and 
 kind. To the unfortunate he was apt to give more than 
 he could well afford, and to those whom he had injured 
 he was always ready to make a generous reparation. 
 His temper was quick to fancy an insult, and difficult 
 and uncertain to satisfy ; but he never failed to make a 
 grateful return for kindness, and was always desirous to 
 repay a favor tenfold. 
 
 To his wife he seems to have been an affectionate 
 husband, and his daughter's death probably hastened 
 his own. His widow raised a plain tablet to his 
 memory at Leghorn, for which Dr. Armstrong fur- 
 nished the epitaph ; while his cousin erected an 
 elegant pillar on the banks of Leven, the river he 
 has immortalized, and Dr. Johnson wrote part of the 
 inscription. In fact there seems to have been a general 
 sorrow among men of letters at the early death of one 
 who had so long been their terror and their scourge, 
 and the anger and pain which had been so often excited 
 
394: HIS POETKY. 
 
 by Smollett's severe strictures, while lie lived, were for- 
 gotten in the recollection of his benevolence and real 
 tenderness of disposition. 
 
 In poetry he possessed a rude and original power, 
 which gives to all his pieces a certain value above those 
 of most of his contemporaries. He was one of the first 
 to abandon the smooth measures of Pope, and to speak 
 the real feelings of his nature in his own bold and ready 
 language. His odes abound in generous and ardent 
 impulses, but, like his own nature, are rude, irregular, 
 and imperfect. " Leven "Waters " and the " Tears of 
 Scotland " touch the feelings, and produce the stirring 
 effect of true poetry, but they want the higher charms 
 of the art refinement, melody, and grace. 
 
 As a novelist, Smollet was the creator of a humorous 
 and original school, gaining nothing from romance and 
 legendary lore, but painting the passing world with all its 
 follies, weaknesses and sins. He resembles rather the 
 school of Dickens than of Scott, and aided greatly in 
 introducing into that kind of writing, novelty, observa- 
 tion, and truth. His works, however, can hardly be 
 commended as good models either in style or in 
 morals ; and no one can read them without regret that 
 a mind capable of such real excellence should have 
 been marred by so many gross defects. 
 
 His historical works were various ; he wrote the his- 
 tories of France, Italy, and Germany, for the " Univer- 
 sal History," and continued his History of England 
 down to 1765. This work, so rapidly and carelessly 
 
THE HISTORY. 395 
 
 written, so full of inaccuracies and intentional misre- 
 presentations, is yet printed as the best continuation wa 
 have of the earlier narrative of Hume. It extends from 
 the time of Csesar to 1765. "Whatever other faults it 
 may have, it is certainly interesting ; Smollet had the 
 power of fixing the attention of the reader to whatever 
 he produced ; and in this respect, at least, he takes a 
 position far above the Cartes, Bradys, and Oldmixons 
 with whom he most properly comes into competition. 
 
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