•'•"S^! '"■•^il^Hl :^^fi£ y .^' ■ WL^t iiiJ ;\> \> \ \ iZUSl %J<( THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES I in GIFT OF COMMODORE BYRON MCCANDLESS V v"*. ^ '/cC/ V L ^ auL^ jiju ' r^ L *^\ (Xiisted bv that voice of uuthoritv to which he would have i)aid mu^^t willing a ANDREW .MAKVi:LL. defercuco.* The aged ladv;, witli whose daughter the venerable man Jiad dared to die, sent for his son from Cambridge, acted towards him as a mother, and at lier decease bequeatlied liim her whole pro- perty. The transactions which immediately succeeded this event, are riot on record ; but it would seem that IMarvell, to whose ardent and liberal mind neither college discipline nor collegiate opinions were likely to be agreeable, became negligent of academic exercises when no longer restrained by parental care ; and, in 1641, he, with four other youths, among m liom was ^Mayc, the ])arliamentary historian and translator and continuator of Imcan, were conditionally dismissed from Trinity CoUege.t iMarvell probaltly never made the required submission, or returned to Cambridge, for soon after we find him on his travels in Italy. That he was at Rome, appears from his poem, called " Flecnoe an English Priest," which is supposed to have suggested to Dryden his famous satire of ]Mc Flecnoe, wherein lie avenged himself on his old enemy Shadwell, Avhose politics had gained the Laureateship of which Dryden Avas deprived at the revolution. Shadwell w'as fair game ; but Flecnoe seems to have been innocuously dull. X At Rome, it is sup- * Marvell thus speaks of his father, in 'The Rehearsal Transprosed : ' — "He died before the war broke out, having lived with some reputation both for piety and learning; and was, moreover, a conformist to the rites and ceremonies of the Church of England, though I confess none of the most over-running or eager in them." f In the Conclusion-Book of Trinity College, September 24th, 1641, appears the following entry : — " It is agreed by the Masters and Seniors, that Mr. Carter, Domi- nus Waki^field, Dominus Marvell, Dominus Waterhouse, and Dominus Maye, in regard that some of them are reported to be married, and the others look not after their dayes nor acts, shall receive no more benefit of the college, and shall be out of their places, imless they show just cause to the college for the contrary-, in three mouths." — N.B. A jack tar would probably call the Conclusion-Book the college Log. 'I The Courtly Laurel has never, in public opinion, recovered from the contamina- tion of Shadwell's brows. Tom was the father of a dynasty of Laureate Dunces, among whom it is grievous to think that such names as Warton and Southey should be numbered ; to wit, Tate, Rowe, Eusden, Cibber, Whitehead and Pie, — What though the Courtly Laurel now Adorn a true poetic brow, — Immortal Bard, as well might'st thou Write verses to a huge Dutch Frau, As big as all three Graces, As well, nay better far by half, Make hymns to Jeroboam's calf, Or write in sand an epitaph, O'er the drown'd world of Mynheer PfaH'. ANDRF.W MARVF.I.L. 7 posed, Marvell first saw IMilton, tlicn a yo""g 'i"'l enamnuret Englishman who introduced Don Juan upon the stage, and his Tragedy of the Libertine is very good in its own bad kind. His Comedies are reso- lutely and offensively coarse, and scarcely deserve the trouble of purgation. As for Flecnoe, it appears that he was not an English priest, but a native of the Emerald Isle. Hence Pope : — " High on a gorgeous seat that far outshone Henley's Gilt-tub — or Flecnoe's Irish throne." DrxciAD, Book 2d. Flecnoe having laid aside, (as himself expressed it,) " the mechanic part of priesthood, wrote only to avoid idleness, and published to avoid the imputation of it." Mr. Southey, whose laudable zeal for obscure merit extends both to the dead and to the living, and who seems to entertain a compassion, almost melting into love, for inno- cent dulness, has dedicated some pages of his Omniana, (a miscellany of wonderful learning, and delightful vivacity,) to the vindication of this poor author, and gives some extracts from his poems, which we are afraid, will not plead potently against Mc Flecnoe. Southey ascribes Dryden's antipathy to Flecnoe's just invectives against the obscenity of the stage, for which wickedness Dryden was, if not more infamous, more notorious, than his dull contemporaries. But it is just as likely, that Flecnoe's name, itself a rememberable sound, and apt for composition, had by the attacks of a series of satirists, become, like that of Baviiu*, of Quarles, of Stcruhold, and of Black more, a synonyme for extravagant flatness. It is hard for a man to have his name thus memorized, when every thing else about him is forgotten. 8 ANDREW ^FARVELL u more formidable. In this respect Andrew was a tbrtunate man, ior he partakes fully in the fame of his ilhistrious friend, as a defender and j)ronioter of true liberty, mIuIc he escaped all participation in the more questionable pax'ts of his career. As tour-writing was not quite so in- dispensable in the seventeenth century as at present, our account of JMarvell's travels is necessarily scanty, the few incidental notices that may occur in his miscellaneous works not being sufficient to compose a regular narrative. He returned, however, between 1642 and 1643, and while at Paris, on his way homeward, he found occasion to exercise his satirical vein in a Latin Poem upon Lancelot Joseph de INIaniban, a whimsical Abbe, who, by a new sort of Cheiromancy, pi'etended to for- bode the fortunes of individuals, not by the lines of the hands, but by those of their hand writing.* Little information can be obtained of IMarvell's proceedings from his return to England, till the year 1652, one of the most important inter- vals in human history. How he thought and felt during this period we may easily conjecture, but we are at a loss to find out what he was doing. It is probable that he acted no conspicuous part, either civil or military, as he is not mentioned in the parliamentary ])apers, or other public documents, nor does he appear to have employed his pen on either * The race of the Mauibans is not extinct; and, indeed, however absurd it may be to form a prognosis of future contingencies from the curves and angles of a MS., we will and do maintain, that a correct diagnosis of the actual character of an individual may be drawn from his autograph. The goodness or badness of the writing contri- butes nothing to its physiognomy, any more than the beauty or homeliness of a countenance influences its expression. Expression has nothing to do with beauty; and those who say that a good expression will make the plainest face beautiful, do not say what they mean. Goodness, shining through ordinary features, is not beauti- ful, but far better, — it is lovely. So, too, with regard to the expression of writing; Caligraphy, as taught by writing masters to young ladies, is in tiiith a very lady-like sort of dissimulation, intended, like the Chesterfieldian politeness of a courtier, tcJ conceal the workings of thought and feeling — to substitute the cold, slippery, polished opacity of a frozen pool, for the ripple and transparency of a flowing brook. But into every habitual act, which is performed unconsciously, earnestly, or naturally, something of the mood of the moment, and something of the predominant habit of the mind, unavoidably passes : — the play of the features, the motions of the limbs, the paces, the tones, the very folds of the drapery (especially if it have long been worn), are all significant. A mild, considerate man hangs up his hat in a very different style from a hasty, resolute one. A Dissenter does not shake hands like a High Churchman. But there is no act into which the character enters more fully, than that of writing ; for it is generally performed alone or unobserved, seldom, in adults, is the object of conscious attention, and takes place while the thoughts, and the natural current of feeling, are in full operation. D'Israeli, in his " Curiosities of Literature," second series, has two interesting chapters on autographs, writiDg-mastert, and hand-writing. ANDRF.W \lAltVi;i,L. 9 fHide. Some incidental notices we may glean from a letter of :\riltoii to the President liradsliaw, tliat chief of the regicide Judges, w lio shared with Cromwell, Blake, and Iretoii, the honour of being hanged after his death. It is inscribed to the Honourable the Lord Bradsliaw. No ''P"'l"©y ^''" ''^' i"cy report, and the couverse I have had with him, of singular desert for the state to make use of; who alsoe offers himselfe, if there Ije any im- ploymeut for him. His father was the Minister of Hull ; and he hath sj)€nt four years abroad, in Holland, France, Italy, and Spaine, to very good purpose, as I believe, and the gaineing of those four languages ; besides, lie is a scholler, and well read in the Latin and Greek authors ; and no doubt of an approved conversation, for he comes now lately out ])iriess which I at the same time congratuhite to him, and envy, there heing none who doth, it' I may so say, more jealously honour you than, Honoured Sir, Your most affectionate liumble Servant, Eton, June 2, 1654. Anduew IMauvell. For my most lionoured friend, Jolm IMilton, Esq., Secretary lor Foreign Affairs, At his house in Petty France, Westminster." Grace and ease in letter writing is one of the last accomplishments at wliich literature arrives. Marvell's letters, from which we shall make copious extracts, are not cited as examples of com})osition, in \\hich respect they are hardly worthy of his talents, Imt for the historical intelligence they convey, and the testimony which they liear to the writer's integrity. Seldom, however, was he guilty of such bad taste, as in the allusion to Trajan's Cohunn, and never again uttered so uncharitable a surmise as that with regard to JNIorus and Salmasius. It is some consolation that neither of those grammarians followed the example of the Dacian JMonarch, though JMilton himself is said to ha\e ascribed the death of Salmasius to chagrin at his defeat. Even good men seldom enter a controversy without making wreck of tlieir peace of miud. In 1657 IMarvell became tutor to Cromwell's nephew. There is extant a letter of his to the Protector, rather more respectful than would please either a royalist or a determined republican. What j)art lie took in the confused passages that ensued on Cntniwell's death, we are not informed. He was elected member for his native town in 16G0 — in that parliament which Mas destined to see the restoration of royalty. Though it is probable that he corresjKjnded regularly with his constitu- ents from his first election, whatever he may have written previous to the triumphal 29th of oMay, or in the busy a^ra of intoxication m hich followed, has never been discovered. We cannot tell how far he appro\-ed the recal of Blajesty, whicli he nuist have seen it vain to oppttse, or whether lie laboured to obtain those securities against the encroachments of preroga- tive which the treacherous coiuisels of ^lonk induced the Convention to forego, — M-hat he felt on the violent revulsion of public feeling wliereby Charles the Second M'as enabled to establish a sw ay which nothing but his own indolence hindered from being desjtotic, — or how he judged of the vindictive proceedings of the reinstated royalists, which had well * Overton was Cuvcnior of Hull, ami hi'caiiK' a lil'tli-mouiuchy-iUiiu. 1-2 AKDRF.W IMARVELL. iiigli btM-eft the world of Milton, and of Paradise Lost, He might not choose to tnist his sentiments on such subjects to paper, or he miglit sedulously reclaim and destroy writings which endangered others as well as himself. It may be necessary to remind the reader, that it was oidy by the communications of INIembers, that provincial constituents could then be made acquainted with what passed in Parliament. The publication of debates was at that time, and long after, really and strictly forbidden. Even in Dr. Johnson's day, the standing order was evaded by reports under feigned names or initials. The Doctor himself published (if he did not compose) / Debates in the Senate of Lilliput.' Has the publication of debates ever yet been legalised by exjn'sss enactment ? We fear not. iMiddleton composed his life of Cicero, Jortin, his life of Erasmus, almost entirely from the epistles of their respective subjects. We shall make as free a use, though we cannot construct so regidar a narrative, of the parliamentary epistles of Andrew IMarvell. The earliest of these is dated N^ovember, 1660, in which he laments the absence of his partner, Mr. John Ramsden, and tells them he " writes but with half a pen, mIucIi makes his account of public affairs so imperfect ; and yet he had rather expose his own defects to their good inteiin'etation, than excuse thereby a total neglect of his duty." Two of the most difficult questions that occupied the government immediately after the restoration, were, how to dispose of the standing army, which, during the suspension of the monarchy, had become a deliberative and most influential member of the body politic ; and whether to continue or abrogate the excise, a financial offspring of the Long Parliament^ which the restored monarch was not unwilling to adopt. Confiding in the unorganised valour of the English nation, and in the capacity of discipline which exists in every people, he once and for ever opposed a standing army, a species of force, which, had Charles the First possessed, he might have been as despotic as he would; which Cromwell possessing, kept the realm at nurse for a Prince who, with equal means, could have done more than the worst of his legiti- mate or illegitimate predecessors. The purpose of the Puritans was, to turn the whole Ijlessed island into a Presbyterian Paradise, in which there Mas to be nothing l)ut churches, and church-yards ; — one to be filled M'itli the living bodies of the saints, and the other with the hanged carcases of their adversaries. The apostate royalists of the Restora- tion would have made England a bear garden, in which all vices were free, and from which nothing but piety was exiled. Marvell had seen a standing army, composed of more respectable materials than could easily be replaced, the instrument of one tyranny ; and most wisely he AKDRKU' MAKVKI.L, 13 opposed its continuance, when the same mass, c<»nipacted of baser atoms, niiyht perpetuate a tyranny far worse tlian that wliieh it succeeded. He conceived an anny to be a giant body without a directing soul, — a house to let, in which the long-houseless da'nion ill ; and for those excellent thimjs therein, wc must hence- forth rely only on his INIajesty's goodness, who, I must needs say, hath been more ready to give, than we to receive." In all his earlier letters he speaks respectfully and favourably of Charles and the Royal Family, and seems to have entertained hopes of a just and equal government, a true and comprehensive amnesty of all past offences between Prince and subject, between all sects and parties, between each man and his neighbour. In speaking of the measiires then on foot for establishing the militia, he advises rather to "trust to his IMajesty's goodness," than to " confirm a perpetual and exorbitant power by law." This sentiment not only shews that the patriot was not then ill-affected towards the restored line, but proves him to have been a truly wise and liberal statesman ; unlike too many champions of liberty, who, in their dread of prerogative, have unwarily strengthened the tyranny of law, a thing without bcnvels or conscience, and overlooks the chronic diseases of custom, w Inch slowly but surely reduce the body politic to a condition of impotence and dotage. Andrew was never so much absorbed by politics as to forget business. lie i)aid sedidous attention to the interests of his borough, and of each of his constituents, and watched narrowly the progress of private bills. We cannot participate the surprise of some of INIarvell's biographers at the tokens of respect which he and his partner received from the *"In this declaration the King promised that he would provide suffragan Bishops,', in all the large dioceses; that the prelates should all of them he nyular and comtaiif preachers; that they should not confer ordinations, or exercise any jurisdiction, without the ad\ ice of Presbj-ters, chosen by the diocese ; that such alterations should be made in the Liturgy as should render it totally unexceptionable ; that, in the mean time, the use of that mode should not be imposed on such as were unwilling to receive it; and that the surplice, the cross in baptism, and the bowing at the name of • Jesus, should not be rigidly insisted oa."— Hume. It is easy to conjecture what Andrew Marvell considered as the excellent tliinfjs in this declaration. The constant preaching of the Bishoi)s he would freely have left to their Lordships' own discretion : to crossings or bowings he had neither attachment nor antipathy. The Bulimia for sermons which alllicted the Puritans was one of the most distressing maladies that ever appeared in f'hristendoni. 1() ANDREW MARVELL. worthy corporation of Hull, or suppose tliat more modern senators would sneer at a cask of ale. Did not Joseph Hume graciously receive a butt of cider ? And did not the Orthodox of Cheshire express their admiration of the late Duke of York's Anti-Catholic declaration by presenting him with a mighty cheese ? In acknowledging a donation of British beverage, Andrew writes thus (Letter 7th, Dec. 8th) : — " We are now botli met together, and shall strive to do you the best service we are able. We must first give you thanks for the kind pre- sent you liave pleased to send us, which will give us occasion to remem- ber you often ; but the quantity is so great, that it might make sober men forgetful." On the 29th of December the King in person dissolved the Parlia- ment with a most gracious speech. All liitherto had gone smooth. The King signified, at parting, a great satisfaction in what had been done, and that it was very shortly his intention to call another Parlia- ment. This dissolution did not interrupt Marvell's correspondence with Hull, neither did he quit London, or take any measures to secure his re-election, which doubtless he knew to be sure enough. His letters during the interval of Parliaments are chiefly taken up with netvs, among which the movements of the King and Royal Family occupy a conspicuous place. It would seem that the JMayor and Corporation of Hull did not take in a newspaper, though several had been issued during the civil war, particidarly the Mercurius Aulicus, or Court journal, and the IMercurius Rusticus, the reporter of the Republicans. It was, moreover, the practice of the Puritan clergy, in their prayers, to make a recapitulation of the events of the week, under the form of thanksgiving, or remonstrance. The pulpit, in its bearings upon the people, then exerted the power which now belongs to the periodical press. Marvell complains of the stoppage of letters, and, that even under ordinary circumstances, the several porters carried them aljout in their walks, and that so much time was lost. The admirable arrangement and dispatch, with the general sacredness of epistolatory communica- tion, is one of the highest blessings which England for many years has enjoyed. It is true that the commerce of the heart is still subject to heavy duties, which we would gladly see diminished, as they might be with advantage to the revenue. Thousands of letters are unwritten from regard to the expense of postage. In January, 1661, took place the mad insurrection of Venner and the Millenarians. To this Marvell cautiously alludes in his letter of the 12th of January, as an insurrection of rude and desperate fellows. It only deserves notice as the first in that series of plots, real and ANDREW MAKVF.r.T, 17 imaginary, Pujiisli, iMilliiarian, and Hcjmltlicaii, wliicli iiiadf tlio reign of the Second Charles as sanguinary as it was licentious. Rej)orts Mere ah-eady growing rife of conspirjicies in various quarters. " Still it is my ill fortune," says IMarvell, " to meet with some rumour or other, (as I did yesterday at the Exchange,) of a plot against Hull, (I think indeed those have so that divulge siu;h falsehoods,) hut I am not failing to suppress any such thing wlicrc I meet witli it. * * * I saM', within this week, a letter from a person who dwells not in your town, but near, that your governor was turning out all the inhabitants who had l)een in the Parliament's service; I Iwilieve one is as true as the otlier." It will not be forgotten, that Hull was a depot in which the Parliament |)laced much confidence, and where the Presbyterian interest was strong. The high-church party, who had indeed the plea of retaliation, both f(»r their present suspicions and for their meditated severities, inter- preted the apocalyptic frenzy of Venner and the fifth-monarchy-men, as a sample of Presbyterian loyalty ; altliough in the millenial reign of the saints, there were to be no more Presbyters than Bishops. But any pretext will serve a court to break its Mord if it be so inclined. It would seem that tlie good people of Hull, were anxious to retjiin their old ministers, or at least to have the choice of their new ones. ]\larvell, their honest counsellor, presses upon them the necessity of unanimity, and the imperative duty of providing, freely and liberally, a mainte- nance for their pastors. He also admonishes them tliat in case of the excise \n;'mg farmed, they should bid its fair value to Government, and not, by a niggardly offer, put it into the hands of a foreigner,'^ "who" says he, " toill not stick to outbid you, so he may thereby be forced to oppress you." He takes care to sprinkle his letters with loyalty ; whe- ther sincerely, or prudently, it matters not to enquire. Thus, Jan. 3, IfiOO-Gl, " The last of December here was an ugly false report got abroad, that his IMajesty was stabbed, which made the guard be up in arms all night. I doubt not the same extraordinary hand that hath hitherto guided him, will still be his protection against all attemjjts of discontented persons or parties." Jan. 12, "The Queen having embarked, and at sea, was forced to put back, by the Princess Henrietta* falling * Foreigner. — By Marvell spelt Forainer. We do not remember to have met in any more recent author, the word Foreigner used thus merely for one who is not a townsman. We do not think it necessary, in our extracts, to preserve Andrew's orthography, which, like every body's in that age, was extremely irregular; the same word is frequently spelt in ditlerent letters on the same page. * From this Princess Henrietta, married to the Duke of Orleans, is descended the present King of Sardinia, whose contingent relationship to the British crown has been C 18 ANDREW MARVELL. sick ; so the Queen is landed again, and the Princess on sliiphoard iii the port at Portsmouth, the meazles being thick upon her, and too dangerous to carry her ashore at present ; but we hear that, God be jwaised, there is all good hopes of her recovery. / beseech God to stay his hand from further severity in that Royal Family tvherein the nation's beiny and welfare is so much concerned." JMarvell does not seem to have sympathized with the auti-monarchial prejudices of IMilton. He is said to have written a most pathetic letter on the execution of King Charles. Could it by no means be recovered.^ Certainly he expressed not pity merely, but admiration for that Prince, and that too in an ode addressed to Oliver Cromwell, but so worded, that it may pass either for a satire or an eulogy on the Protector. We shall give some extracts when we come to speak of Marvell as a poet. The new Parliament met on the 8th of May, 1661. IMarvell Mas re-elected seemingly without opposition ; but instead of IMr. John Ramsden, (who was probably related to William Ramsden^ the mayor of Hull, to whom the earlier letters are addressed,) liis partner was Colonel Gilby, who seems to have started on the court interest. Some unrecorded heart-burnings took place between the associates at the elec- tion, Mhich ended in an open rupture, mIucIi did not, however, prevent Marvell from co-operating with the Colonel, when the good of their con- stituents required. April 6th/'- (Letter 1 4th,) he thus acknowledges his election, which had passed without his appearing or haranguing from the hustings : — " I perceive you have again" (as if it were a thing of course) " made choice of me, now the third time, to serve you in Par- liament ; whicli as I cannot attribute to any thing but yoiu- constancy, so God willing, as in gratitude obliged, with no less constancy and vigour, I shall continue to execute your commands, and study your ser- vice." In his next communication, (May 16th,) he speaks of the bill for confirmation of ministers in a manner which shews him apprehensive that the Episcopal party might go to extremes. The inhabitants of Hidl were especially desirous to obtain the patronage of their own made a bugbear of by those loj'al persons who hold that the removal of catholic dis- .-ibilities annuls the title of the present Royal Family. Certainly her daughter, the Duchess of Savoy, took care to reserve her own right by protesting against the Act of Settiemeut, in 1700. * In the same 14th letter is a piece of intelligence worth transcribing: — " 'Tis two days news upon the Exchange, that some French in the bay of Canada, have disco- vered the long-looked for North-west Passage." This letter also contains an account of the new peerages to be created in honour of the approaching coronation. Charles II. was crowned April 13, 1661, nearly a year after his restoration. What was the reason of so long a delay ? ANURKU .MAR\ 1:1,1.. 19 churches. Their iii(lefati<,'al)le niciiiher tVireMarns them of the diHiciil- ties likely tu stand in their way, and of the small support he meets with in his suit. " I believe in this crjnjuneture I shall he left alone in attempting any thing for your patronage, notwithstanding the assistance you expected from some others, for so they signify U) me, and I douht you will hardly agree about the levying of your minister's maintenance. But in this thing, according as I write to you, you nuist be very reserved, and rest much upon your prudence. I would not Jiave ^•ou susj)ect any nu'sintelligence betwixt my j)artner and me, because we w rite not to you jointly, as J\Ir. Ramsden and I used to do, yet there is all civility Ijetwixt us ; but it was the Colonel's sense that we should be left each to his own discretion in w riting." Yet misintelligence there certainly was, which by some means or other, ripened to absolute divi- sion before the 1st of June, when iMarvell wrote like a patriot and a gentleman. " The bonds of civility betwixt Colonel Gilby and myself l)cing ludiappily snapped in pieces, and in .such manner that I caiuiot see how it is possible ever to knit them again ; the only trouble that 1 have is, lest by our misintelligence your business sliould receive any dis- advantage. * '^ * * Truly I believe that as to your puljlic trust, and the discharge thereof we do each of us still retain the principles upon which we first undertook it, and that though perliaps we may differ in our advice concerning the way of proceeding, yet wc have the same good ends in general ; and by this unlucky falling out, we shall be provoked to a greater eUudation of serving you. I nuist beg you to pardon me for writing singly to you, for if I wanted my riglit hand, yet I would scribble to you with my left, rather than neglect your business. In the mean time I beseech you pardon my weakness ; f(»r there are some tilings which men ought not, otl'.ers, that they cannot, patiently suffer." Noble and clear as he was, he could not escape calumny ; for in his next he requests his constituents to beliccc no little stories concerning him- self, for I believe you to know by this that you have lately heard sttme very false tales concerning me." The temper of the new Parliament was different, and much less mo- derate than that of the assembly by which the King was restored. For though some decided Royalists had found their way into the Convention, the niaj(trity, though favoiwable to the restoration of limited monarchy, were of the Presbyterian party, and attached to the Presbyterian j)as- tors. Hence Charles and his jMinisters thought it necessary to tempo- rize, to try their way, to hold out hopes, that a mitigated Episc<»pacv, an expurgate Liturgy, and an optional compliance with Canons and Rubrics, would leave the infn/diin/ ministers, (as the strict Episcoj)a- lians called them,) who had conii)lied with the Co mmonwealth, in pos- 20 ANDREW MARVELL. \ session of their benefices. Calamy and Baxter, destined to be among the brightest ornaments of Non-conformity, were even appointed King's chaplains. They, and otlier leading pastors, were tem])ted with the offer of Bishoprics ; an offer with which Sharp, in an evil hour for him- self, for Scotland and for Episcopacy, complied. But Calamy and Baxter had too much pride, too much virtue, or too ill an oj)inion of the hand that offered, to accept the mitre. But the second Parliament adopted all the ])rinciples, and cherished the resentments, of those high- Hying Prclatists, whose ill counsels had rendered the virtues of the first Charles unprofitable. The restorati(jn of the Bishops to their seats in tlie House of Lords, and to their other temporalities, Avhich considering the manner in which they had been deprived, was indeed an act of jus- tice, had not been proposed to the convention, but was speedily carried by the Parliament of 1661. The bill of conformity shortly followed, which by a strange coinci- dence, if it were not really concerted, took effect on St. Bartholomew's day, whereby 2000 ministers, unexpectedly conscientious, were ejected in one day. Were it not that the whole of IMarvell's bold and consistent conduct forbids the supposition, it might be conjectured that he declined to contend against measures which he could not successfully have opposed. Between June 1661, and March 1663, there is an hiatus in his correspondence, occasioned by an absence of Andrew's that has never been satisfactorily accounted for. In his letters he speaks of his private concernments without specifying M'hat those private concern- ments were. In the mean while there was talk of supplying his place. Lord Bellasis, the deputy governor of Hull under the Duke of IMou- mouth, seems to have exerted himself especially on this occasion, but without effect. Of the motives of Marvell's withdrawing we are utterly ignorant ; but we cannot help thinking that he was glad to he away fr(jm proceedings to which he could not have put an effectual stop, which he saw necessitated a revolution, and could not foresee that it W(juld be a bloodless revolution. The representations of his constituents, or the apprehension of losing his seat, brought Marvell home perhaps sooner than he intended. He seems not to have taken the interference of Lord Bellasis in good part, for immediately after his return he writes thus : — " Westminster, April 2, 1663. Gentlemen, Being ncAvly arrived in town, and full of businesse, yet I could not neglect to give you notice that this day I have been in the House, and found my place empty ; th(»ugh it seems that some persons would have been so courteous, as to have filled it for me. You may be assured that ANJ)REW MARVELI,. 21 as my (ihligatioa and affection to your service liath l)eoii strong enougli to draw me over, m ithoiit any consideration of mine own jjrivate con- cermnonts, so I sliall now maintain my station with the same vigour and ahicrity in your husiness whicli I have always testify 'd formerly, and which is no more than is due to that kindnesse which I have con- stantly experienced from you. So at present, though in nmch haste, saluting you all with my most hearty respects, I remain. Gentlemen, my very worthy friends, Your most affectionate Friend to serve you, Andrkw IMauvell." In the few letters that follow this, previously to the 20th of June, there is little important matter. Tlie hours of the House of Commons were very different then fr(mi what they are now, for in the twenty-third letter he mentions it as an unusual thing, that they had sat till six in the evenintr on tlie bill for discovery of buying and sellintj of ])Iaces. It may be remarked, that notwithstanding the slavish and intolerant principles of that Parliament, they made a firm stand against the progress of corru])tion, and were by no means lavish in granting the pidjlic money. Charles the second was continually in need : his extra- vagance and indolence prevented him from taking advantage of their niggardly servility, that would have ])referred a cheap slavery to an exj)ensive freedom. Had Charles possessed the virtues of his fatlier,^ and his father's zeal for the Established Church, England Mould have l)ecome the most absolute monarchy in Euroj)e. Providence, ever at work to draw good out of evil, made Charles's mistresses the conserva- tors of British liberty. Yet more are \vc indebted to the man, whoever he was, that converted James the Second to the Romish conuuunion ; for nothing but the dread of Popery would have reconciled the nobility and clergy to that resistance which the people were not yet strong enough to conduct successfully of themselves. JMarvell was not hitherto reckoned among the decided enemies of the coiu't ; for we find him a])pointed, in Juno, 1663, to accompany Lord Carlisle on an embassy to Russia, Sweden, aud Denmark. He tells the Corporation of Hull, "that it is no new thing for members of (»ur Plouse to be dispensed with, for the service of the King and the nation, in foreign parts. And you may be sure I will not stirre without speciall leave of the House, so that you may be freed from any possi- bility of being imjiortuned or tempted to make any other choice in my absence." Shortly after he thus announces his departure : — " Being this day taking barge for Grave:jend, there to endjark lor Archangel, 22 ANDREW MAIiVELL. SO to ]Mosco\r, thence for Sweden, and last of all for Denmark, all w Inch I hope, by God's blessing, to finish within twelve months' time : I do herebvj, with my last and most serious thoughts, salute you, ren- dering yn the 31st of (^ctolK-r. .Alar- vell thus emmicrates the ten bills passed, to some of which, iiartuularly the tive-niile act * as it was called, he must have l)ccn strenuously opposed. But the high-chtirch faction had all their own way.— "For £1,250,000 to his IMajesty ; for iJ120,000 to his IMajesty to ])e Ix-st.iwed on his Royal Ilijrhness (yr. the Duke of York ?) for attainder «.f Barn- field, Scott, and Dollman, Englishmen that acted in Ildland against his IMajesty ; for debarring ejected Nonconformists from living in or ncare corporations, unless talking the new oath and declaration ; for speedier recovery of rents ; for preventing suits and delays in law (a very inefficient act) ; for taking away damage clear after three years ; for restraining of printing ivithout license; and for naturalizing some particular persons." But with his customary reserve, Andrew makes no allusion to the proposal for making the non-resistance oath obligatory on the whole nation, which was rejected l)y a majority of three voices only. We may be sure that IMarvell was among them. The autumn of ^GG(j, Dryden's Annus Mirabilis, distinguished by several indecisive actions against the Dutch, which the poet magni- fies into great victories ; and far more memorably by the fire of London, which was so merciful in its severity, that we are more inclined to attribute it to Divine goodness than to the malice of Papist or Puritan, seeing that it fairly burned out the plague, and only destroyed six lives,— found IMarvell at his post in Parliament, and corresponding as usual with his gratefiU constituents, whom he has to thank for another present of Yorkshire ale. The principal business transacted in this session was financial. A s\ii)ply of £1,800,000 was voted, to be raised partly by assessment, and partly by a poll-tax. It may not be wholly "* It was enacted that no disscntinjr teacher who took not the non-resistance oath above-mentioned, should, except upon the road, come within five miles of any cor- poration, or of any place where he had preached since the act of oblivion. The penalty was a fine of fifty pounds, and six months' imprisonment By ejecting the non-conforminj? clergy from their churches, and prohibiting all separate congrega- tions, they had been rendered incapable of gaining any livelihood by their spiritual profession. And now, under colour of remo\-ing them from places where their influ- ence might be dangerous, an expedient was fallen upon to deprive them of all means of subsistence. Had not the spirit of the nation undergone a change, these violences were preludes to the most furious persecution." — Hume. The spirit of the peers, notwithstanding the presence of the Bishops in their house, I | | was then much more tolerant than that of the Commons. This wicked bill wxs 1 ' strongly opposed in the Lords, particularly by the Earl of Southiunpton, a firm ' friend of Clarendon. The Lords had also the credit of endeavouring to procure some portion out of the ecclesiastical revenues for tlio ejected ministers, arguing that they were entitled to the same indulgence which tlu' Commonwealth hud granted to the episcopal clergy, /. r. a fifth oleacli li\iiti;. D 20 ANDREW MARVKLL. uninteresting to state how the latter was apportioned. — " Tlien for the poll-bill the committee hath prepared these votes — that all persons shall pay one shilling per poll ; all aliens two ; all Nonconformists and Papists two ; all servants one shilling in the pound of their wages ; all personal estates for so much as is not already taxed by the land tax shall pay after twenty shillings to the hundred ; cattel, corn, and house- liold furniture shall be excepted, and all such stock for trade as is already taxed by the land tax, but the rest to be liable." Some altera- tions were subsecjuently admitted. The Lords, to tlieir great honour, rejected the double taxing of Nonconformists, and made an effort to deliver Aliens also from that oppressive impost. Some discussion took place between the houses on the power of the purse ; the Lords endea- vouring to insert a clause, implying a right in the nobility to tax them- selves independent of the Commons, which clause the Commons of course rejected. This Parliament, notwithstanding their intolerant and ultra-royalist principles, had a laudable care for the property of the subject, which was indeed very needful in that age of public poverty and court extravagance. The depreciated value of estates and personal effects may appear from the circumstance, that the poll-tax, heavy as it was, was not expected to raise above £540,000. The fire must have ruined thousands ; the Dutch war Mas doubtless in- jurious to trade ; the prodigality of the nobility could not be sup- ported without oppressing agriculture ; and the distressful effects of the civil wars were still keenly felt in the country. Never was economy more necessary, and yet the necessary expenses of Government were yearly increasing. England was then at Avar with Holland, France, and Denmark, and the Scotch Covenanters were once more in arms. The fatal experience of so many years of blood and misery had not taught the nation the folly and wickedness of interfering between man and his Maker. The law against conventicles, sufficiently tyrannical even in England, where a large portion of the population, wealth, and intelligence were sincerely attached to the episcopal church, was forced with additional cruelty and insult upon Scotland, where the best part of the people were dutifully affectionate to their Presbyterian pastors, and where the curates or prelatical clergy were, by the admission of all parties, too often low, ignorant, profligate, and brutal. In fact, so mercilessly had the Church of Scotland been stripped at the Reform- ation, that she could not afford an episcopal establishment. If ever it be lawful to use the sword against the poM'ers that be, the Covenanters of the Raid of Pentland were justified in their resistance ; and it might have been expected that Andrew Marvell would have sympathized with their sufferings, and admired, if he could not approve, their ejitcrprize. ANJ)iu:\v .\iAi{vi;i,i.. 27 But wliatcver his real sentiments mij^lit be, he did not think fit to comnuinicatc them to tlie corporation of Hull ; for in his letter of the 1st December, lOGG, he says,—" For the Scotch business, truly, I liope this nif^ht's news is certain of their total rout." But his cautious manner of writing is ever remarkable. He never mentions how he himself or any other member voted ; but speaks of the pro- ceedings of the House as if he had always been of the majority. He even talks in one place of the princehj prudence of Charles. This might be necessary ; but we are afraid that Andrew entered more heartily than might have been wished, into the schcnje of fixing on the Papists the guilt of the great fire. By the 3ath letter, \\\nc\\ relates to an exchange of prisoners taken in the Dutch war, it would seem that IMarvcU had renewed his inter- course M ith Colonel Gilby, for both names arc subscribed to it. The Parliament of 1066—7 was prorogued on the 8th of P\-hruary, but rc-asscmbled on the 2r)th of July, to consider the articles of the peace of Breda. The Dutch war, commenced without necessity, and prosecuted, bravely indeed, Init with ill-judged parsimony, and a striking Mant of combination, had closed \\\i\\ a greater disgrace than England had suflfered since the days of Bannockburn. The Dutch Fleet entered the Thames, took Sheerness, advanced with six men of M-ar and five fire ships as far as Upnore Castle, where they burned the Royal Oak, the Loyal London, and the Great James, and then fell down the ^ledwav, with almost perfect impunity. Not that the English courage failed ; but improvidence or treachery had left our shores defenceless. The loss was considerable, the consternation fear- ful, the afl'ront intolerable. Yet was there no reprisal ; for by the end of July the treaty of Breda was concluded, whereby we ol»tained the territory f)f New-York, so named from the King's brother. IMarvell's correspondence contains scarce an allusion to these occurrences ; but among his poems is a tribute to the memory of Captain Douglas, the commander of the Royal Oak, who, sacrificing life to honour, had refused to (juit the vessel M'heu it was in flames, declaring, that " never had a Douglas been known to leave his port without orders." IMarvell's address is entitled, "The Lot/al Scot, by Cleveland's'" Ghost " upon, the death of Captain Douglas, who was burned on his ship at Chatham. Like most copies of verses produced on the spur of some public wonder, or last week's heroism, it is very indificrent. There is something humorous, certaiidy, in putting a panegyric on Scotch loyalty into the mouth of Cleveland, who had been as severe on our northern neighbours •Cleveland wrote u Poem in Latin and English, called Scotus Rebellis,— the Rebel Scot. 28 ANDREW MARVELL. as Chui-chill or Byron ; but almost all that relates to the subject con- sists of conceits, neither new nor good, and extravagancies strangely out of keeping with the subject. About the best lines are these : That precious life he yet disdains to save, Or with known art to try the gentle wave : Much him the honour of his ancient race Inspir'd, nor would he his own deeds deface ; And secret joy in his calm soul does rise, That Monk looks on to see how Douglas dies. But their effect is sadly marred by what follows : — Like a glad lover the fierce flames he meets, And tries his first embraces in their sheets; His shape exact, which the bright flames infold, Like the sun's statue stands, of burnish'd gold ; Round the transparent fire about him glows As the clear amber on the bees does close ; And as ou angels' heads their glories shine. His burning locks adorn his face divine. We fear that Andrew was more inspired by aversion for prelacy than by admiration for the young Douglas, and only chose the latter for his theme, in order to lay the whole blame of certain national antipathies on the Bisliops. We do not quote the following passages for the rea- der's approbation, but to shew the utter inefficiency of licencing laws, (for such were then in force,) to restrain the licentiousness of the Pen : Prick down the point, whoever has the art, Where nature Scotland does from England part, Anatomists may sooner fix the cells Where life resides, and understanding dwells. But this we know, tho' that exceeds our skill, That whosoever separates them does ill. * * * * What ethic river is this wondrous Tweed Whose one bank virtue, t'other vice does breed ? « * * * 'Tis Holy Island parts us, uot the Tweed. Nothing but clergy could us two seclude. * * * * All litanies in this have wanted faith. There's no " Deliver us from a Bishop's wrath," * * * « What the ocean binds, is by the Bishops rent. As seas make Islands in the Continent. Nature in vain us in one laud compiles, If the Cathedral still shall have its isles. Nothing, not bogs, nor sands, nor seas, nor Alps, Separate the worlds so, as the Bishop's scalps, Stretch for the line their circingle alone, 'Twill make a more unhabitable zone; ANDREW MARVELL. 2«» The friLMidly loadstone has not more combined, Thau Bishops crarap't the commerce of mankind. Tliouf^li tlnis severe on the Hierarchy, the poet had not yet lost all respect for the JMonarch : — Charles, our great soul, this only understands, lie our aftections both, and wills commands. It must be remembered that Charles had hitherto shewn many good dispositions, and in particular had interfered to save some of the Scotch Nonconformists from the vengeance of Sliarpe : notwitlistanding tlie insolent tvranny M'ith which he had himself been treated by the A7/7.' in its days of sovereignty. He had, on several occasions, exerted him- self to procure liberty of conscience, blic occasions ; the expence of the navy since 16G0, (£r)00,000 per annum,) and the King's debts, Mhich were inmiense and at hea^T interest, he desired that the Parlia- ment would suj)p]y him (the King) with £800,000 for his navy, as also that they would ])ay off all those debts which be owed at interest, and that they would tiiiish this before Christmas, as well that he might have time in hand to mature his preparations for the season of the year as that men might attend their own occasions in the country, and make their neighbours taste of their hospitality, and keep up their authority and interest there, which is so usefid and necessary to the j)ublic." It is a proof that the promises contained in this speech were never intended to be performed ; that neitlier it nor the King's short intro- ductory address were jdlowed to be printed. Several letters follow, containing nothing but lists of the commodities it was proposed to tax, and other devices, for raising the supplies. One of these proposals produced effects so ludicrously characteristic of the brutality of even the higliest nrdcrs in that reign, that we must extract the passage of Andrew's private correspondence, Mhich contains the story : — " An accident happened which had like to have spoiled all. Sir John Coventry having moved for an imposition on the play-houses. Sir John Berkcnhead, to excuse them, said they had been of great service to the King. Upon which Sir John Coventry desired that gentlemaji to .\NJ)IIK\V MAKVKLL. 39 explain wlictlicr lie meant the men or tlie women play«'rs. Ilerenjum it is imagined that, the House adjourning from Tuesday before till Thursday after Christmas day, on tlie very Tuesday night of the adjournment, twentv-Hve of the Duke of ^Monmouth's troop, and some few foot, laid in wait from ten at night till two in the morning, by Sutfolk-strect, and as he returned from the Cock, where he supjjed, to liis own house, they threw liim down and cut off almost all the end of his uftse." Feeble attempts Mere made by tlie court to protect the actors in this cowardly piece of loyalty, but the House of Commons displayed a proper sjjirit, and not only insisted on the ])unishment of the present offenders, but passed the act which makes cutting and maiming capital without l>enefit of clergy. From this incident alone, we might credit what Andrew says at the conclusion of his letter — " the court is at the hhjhest pitch of want and luxury, and the people full of discontent." The circumstance is often alluded to in the ballads and epigrams of the time, and is the subject of one which has been given to ]Marvell. We hope he had too much decency and dignity to have written it, as he cer- tainly had too much wit and good taste to have approved of it. It contains nothing worth extracting, and much that is unfit to be read. Not but what the court deserved every word of it. In another letter, about the same date,* he mentions to ]\Ir. Ramsden, (whom he calls dear Will,) how IMoumouth, Albemarle, Dunbane, and seven or eight gentlemen, fought with the Match, and killed a poor bedle. Thev have all their pardons for 3Ionmouth's sake ; but it is an act of great scandal." In the same letter : — " The king of France is at Dunkirk. We have no fleet out, though we gave the subsidy-bill, valued at £'8(K),r>00, for that purpose. / believe indeed he tcill attempt nothing on us, but leave us to die a natural death. For indeed never had poor nation so many complicated, mortal, incurable diseases." We have more than once had occasion to allude to Charles's disposi- tion to mitigate the rigour of the conformity laws^ which may be ascribed part to his good nature, more to his good sense, and most to his secret Romanism. But a letter of IMarvell's, (private of course,) suggests a foiu-th influence, not Meaker than the rest : — " The King had • The letttT, containing this information, is in the printed edition, without date; but it must have been written between the end of March and the ■22nii of April, 167 1 ; for it mentions the Duchess of York's death, (Ann Hyde's,) which took place March 31, and speaks of Parliament as still sitting, which, on the 22ud of April was pro- rogued. The King continues to honour the Lords with his presence, against which Lord Clare declared in the royal presence. Lord Lucas also made a " fervent hold speech" against the Houses' "prodigality in giving, and the weak looseness of govern - nient." the King being present. 40 ANDREW MARVELL. occasion for £G0,000, sent to borrow it of the City. * * * * Could not get above £10,000. The Fanatics, nuder persecution, serretl Iiis Majesty. The other i)arty, botli in court and city, woukl liave prevented it. But the King j)rotested money ^\ oxdd be acceptable. So the city patched up, out of the chamber and other ways, £20,000. The Fanatics, of all sorts, £40,000." This M-as just after a sanguinary attack of the " bold train-bands" upon a congregation of non-resisting Quakers, of whom they killed some and wounded many.* But it is more woi'thy of remark, that the Protestant Dissenters, like tlie Jcms of the middle ages, however harassed by fines, doidjle taxes, and civil disabilities, have always had more ready money than other persons of the same station, and unlike the Jews, have generally been ready to part with it on public occasions. With all this orthodoxy on one side, and saintship on the other, there was little resj^ect even for the external forms of the established religion. The following ^ould appear, in these days, utterly incredible. — " Feb. 7, 177^^ — 71 : Yesterday, upon complaint of some violent arrests made in several churches, even during sermon time, nay, of one taken out betwixt the bread and the cup in receiving the sacrament, the House ordered that a bill be brought in for better observing the Lord's day." Tlie letters from this time to the prorogation of the 22d of April, are chiefly taken up with financial details, and dissentions between the two Houses, originating in alterations made by the Lords in a money- bill, which the Commons contended was an infringement of their pri^ ilege : — " To speak in sliort, the two Houses Avere so directly con- tradictory in their assertions concerning the power of the Lords in altering of rules, &c., that his Majesty (there being no present medium of reconciliation to be found) thought fit to-day to prorogue us, so that the bill of foreign commodities is fallen to the ground." Andrew announces this to his constituents the very same evening; and this (the 126th) is the last public communication extant before Oct. 20th, I674, an interruption of nearly three years. From his letter " to a friend in Persia," we are tempted to make * The following passage of the same letter, (Nov. 28, 1670,) may be interesting to some : — " The other was the trial of Penn and IMead, Quakers, at the Old Uaily. The Jury not finding them guilty, as the Recorder and Mayor would have had them, they were kept without meat or drink some three days, till almost starved, but would not alter their verdict, so fined and imprisoned. There is a book out which relates all the passages, which were very pertinent on the part of the prisoners, but prodigi- ously barbarous by the Mayor and Recorder. The Recorder, among the rest, com- mended the Spanish Inquisition, sayiug it would never be well till we had something like it." ANDRKW M.VKVKKL -II sonio extracts, tlioujjli we caiinot iulonii tlie reader \vh71, — ii<> place specified. It Ix-^iiis in a strain f»f j)ious friendship, expressed in terms of tlie mystic phileing no satisfaction how those debts were contracted, and all men foreseeing that what was given would not be applied to discharge the debts, which I hear are at this day risen to four millions. Nevertheless, such was the number of the constant coin-tiers inci-eased by the apostate patriots, who were bought off for that turn, some at six, others at ten, one at fifteen thousand poiuids, in money ; besides what offices, lands, and reversions, to others, that it is a mercv thev gave not away the whole laud and liberty of England. The Duke of Buckingham is again £140,000 * i. e. He that is iu haste to be rich, shall uot be witliout sin. K 42 ANDREW MARVELl,. in debt, and, by tliis prorogation, liis creditors bave time to tear all bis lands in pieces. The House of Conunons bas run almost to tlie end of tbeir time, and are grown extremely cbargeable to tlie King, and odious to tbe people. Tbey bave signed and sealed £10,000 a year more to the Ducbess of Cleveland, wbo bas likewise near £10,000 out of tbe excise of beer and ale ; £5,000 a year out of tbe post-office ,• and, tbey say, tbe reversion of all tbe King's leases ; tbe reversion of all places in tbe custom-bouse ; and, indeed, wbat not ? All promotions, spiritual and temporal, pass tinder ber cognizance. We truckle to France in all tilings, to tbe prejudice of our alliance and bonour. Bar- clay is still Lieutenant of Ireland, but be was forced to come over to pay £10,000 rent to bis landlady Cleveland." Tbe letter concludes witb a brief statement of one of tbe most extraordinary, if not most important incidents, in Englisb bistory; one of tbose stories M'bicb we sbould imagine to be impossible, if we did not know tbem to be true. " One Blood, outlawed for an attempt to take Dublin Castle, and Mbo seized on tbe Duke of Ormond bere last year, and migbt bave killed liim, a most bold, and yet sober fellow, some montlis ago seized tbe croAvn and sceptre in tbe Tower, took tbem away, and, if be bad killed tbe keeper, migbt bave carried tbem clear off. He, being taken, astonisbed tbe King and court witb tbe generosity and M^isdom of bis ansM'ers. He and all bis accomplices, for bis sake, are discharged by tbe King, to tbe wonder of all." Andrew does not seem to be very angry witb Blood for stealing tbe crown, nor (wbat is more extraordinary) witb King Cbarles for pardoning bim. In an epigram, found botb in Latin and Englisb, be even commends tbe desperado, but it is for tbe sake of a stab at an order of men, against wbom be entertained an unfortunate prejudice : — When daring Blood, his rent to have regaiu'd, Upon the English diadem distrain'dj t He chose the cassock, circingle, and gown, The fittest mask for one that robs the crown : But his lay-pity underneath prevail'd, And whilst he sav'd the keeper's life, he fail'd. With the priest's vestment had he but put on The prelates cruelty, the crown had gone. Whether admiration of " bis wise and generous answers" bad much to do witb Blood's pardon and pension, (for he was rewarded witb an estate of £500 in Ireland, may justly be doubted. Charles was likely enough to be amused witb his audacity, and was as void of resentment as of gratitude. Having persuaded himself that all men, in all their actions, are equally constrained by interest or appetite, be consistently made no difference between friend and foe, and would prefer tbe man ANDKKU MAia fl.l.. 43 who stole liis crown, to liiiii w lio liiid ])reserved it, if the hitter happened to be the pleatsanter eonipaiiioii. JJut we suspect soinething deeper in the favour shewn tn IJlotid than mere caprice. He was rumoured, on good grounds, to he a creature of Buckingham, and, at liis instigation, to have made liis desperate attenipt upon the Duke of Ornn^nd. What mo- tive either could have for seizing the Regalia, it is difficult, at this time, to conjecture, but it is exceedingly probable that J31ood, who in England could not be immediately silenced with the bowstring, knew more than it was convenient for either the favourite or the monarch to have known. For though itcad men tell no tales, dying men, even felons at the gal- lows, may tell horrible tales, and the words of dying men are heard afar, and long remembered, and deejily believed, without much consideration of previous cliaracter. Besides, a hanged villain is of no use but to the dissectors : a living one, properly managed, may be of a great deal to a bad government. One other ej)istlc, addressed to William Ramsdcn, I^sq.,'^' occurs in this interval of iMarvell's public correspondence, dated June, 1672. It is short, and not important, though it mentions the assassination of the Pensionary ])e Wit, and the low state of the Dutch Repul)lic: — "No man can conceive the condition of the state of Holland, in this juncture, unless he can, at the same tinje, conceive an eartlupiake, an hvu-ricanc, and the deluge." Of the last it did indeed present a pretty tolerable miniature, for the sluices being cut, a great part of the country was under water. We have not the means of determining whether Marvell's correspon- dence with the Borough w;is actually discontinued during these years, whether the papers have been carelessly lost, or, which is most probable, purposely destroyed. For when we consider the character of public measures in that interval, the infamous Dutch war, in which the pen- sioned Charles and ministers conspired with the French despot to extin- guish the poor remains of liberty in Holland,and to destroy the strength of protestantism in Europe, on an implied condition of receiving French assistance to bring about the same end in England, — the jirosjiect of a reign of Jesuits succeeding a reign of harlots, — of absolute pow er trans- mitted from the good-natured, unprincipled Charles, to the vindictive, suj)erstitious James, — and the other monstrous abuses of that calamitous * William and John Ramsden, Esqrs. were the sons of John Ranisden, who was Mayor of Hull, and died, in 1G.37, of the plague, and was buried by the Rev. Andrew Marvell, father of our author, who delivered fnnn the pulpit, on tliis mournful occa- sion, a most pathetic oration. His eldest son, Mr. John Ramsden, was twice member for Hull. William was a spirited and successful commercial adventurer. Is any of the family left in Hull at present? 44 ANDRKW MARVKl.L ctra, we may suppose that even Marvell's caution could not always avoid expressions wliidi might have exposed the toM'u and corporation of Hull to serious inconveniences in the days of Judge JefTreys and quo ivarra}iffl's. In one letter he hints at a probability of his being em- ployed in Ireland, but we cannot discover that he ever went thither. Where ever he was there is abundant proof that he was not idle. It was in the year 1672, that he first avowedly appeared in the character of a political satyrist, wherein he gained a high and dangerous reputa- tation, as unblemished as the fame of a Polemic can be ; but we believe that no man, divine, politician, or critic, ever thought of his con- troversial writings with calm satisfaction on his death-bed. Yet there are times when the sword must be unsheathed. Whether INIarvell's til)ility and caution. The people of Hull had thought fit to propitiate u ith a pre- sent their governor, the Duke of Monmouth, tlieu highly popular, and the hero, if not liead of a certain party, who, to avert tlic dangers of a catliolic succession, would gladly have washed tlic stain of illegitimacy from Charles's favourite offspring, thougli neitlier the law nor the Church of England j)ermitted this e.v post facto legitimation. They manage these thinifs better at Rome. However IMonmouth was the man of the day, and ]\IarvelI Mas to officiate in offering to the Duke the good town's oblation. But let him tell his own story : — " To-day I •waited on him, and first presented him M'ith your letter, which he read over very attentively, and then prayed me to assure you, that he would, upon all occasions, be most ready to give you the marks of his affection, and assist you in any affairs that you should recommend to him : with other words of civility to the same purpose. I then delivered him the six broad pieces, telling him I Mas dej)uted to blush on your behalfe for tlie meanness of the present, &:c. ; but he took me off, and said he thaidvcd you for it, and accepted it as a token of your kindness. He had, bef(n-e I came in, as I Mas told, considered M'hat to do m ith the gokl ; but that I by idl means prevented the offer, or I had been in dan- ger of being reimbursed m ith it. I received the bill M'hich Mas sent me on ]\Ir. Nelehorpe ; but the surplus of it exceeding much the expense I liavc been at on this occasion, I desire you to make use of it, and of me, upon any other opportunity." As these letters relate wholly to the confused and unhappy politics of the time, and do not throM' any wcw light on Mhat is generally knoM'n, much less lead to the discovery of Mhat is obscure, mo shall make no further selections from them. \ye do, however, earnestly desire to see them republished in a convenient form, m ith Mhatever historical elucidation they may require to render them intelligible. It is right to mention that they testify favourably to the general accm-acy of Hume, Mith mIiosc account of the same transactions we have had occasion to compare them. The last date is June Gth, 1(578, about tMo montlis before his death. He died, perhaps haj)j)ily for his fame, before the explosion of the Popish ])lot. In the latter years of his life IMarvell frequently appeared as a jioli- tical Mriter, and perhaps excited more animosity in that capacity, than l)y his firmness as a senator. In IfiX-' ^vas seen the novel spectacle of a Bishop (and one mIio had been a confessor for his ihurch) assailed by a plain priest, for over-toleration, and defended by a Calvanistic layman. Dr. Herbert Croft, Bishop t>f Hereford, had [lultlished a book called 54 ANDREW' MARVELL. the "Naked Truth, or the true state of the Primitive Cliurdi," wliich, unlike most theological tracts in the seventeenth century, Mas in a moderate spirit, and of a moderate size, being no more than a quarto pamphlet of four or five sheets. As it was hostile to the high preten- sions of the Hierarchy, as well as against the forcible interposition of the civil power in matters of belief or worship, it propably was resented by the more violent clergy as the treason of a false brother. Dr. Francis Turner, JMaster of St. John's College, Cambridge, published his "Ani- madversions on the Naked Truth," wherein, unluckily for himself, he indulged in a sort of prim facetiousness not quite in unison with the subject. IMarvell had already made one divine " sacred to ridicule," by a dramatic nick-name : he now anabaptized Dr. Turner as " Mr. Smirke, or the Divine in JMode," alluding to a chaplain in Etherege's comedy,—" Sir Fopling Flutter, or the Man of IMode,"— thus holding him up as the model "of a neat, starched, formal and forward divine." There is a passage near the commencement which we must transcribe for the benefit of all ivould-bc-wits in orders : — " And from hence it proceeds, that, to the no small scandal and dis- reputation of our church, a great arcanum of their state hath been discovered and divulged; that, albeit wit be not inconsistent and incompatible with a clergyman, yet neither is it inseparable from them. So that it is of concernment to my Lords the Bishops henceforward to repress those of them who have no wit from writing, and to take care that even those that have, do husband it better, as not knowing to what exigency they may be reduced ; but however, that they the Bishops be not too forward in licensing and prefixing their venerable names to such pamphlets. For admitting, though / am not too positive in it, that oiu- episcopacy is of apostolical right, yet we do not find, among all those gifts there given to men, that Wit is enumerated ; nor yet among those qualifications requisite to a Bishop. And therefore should they, out of complacency for an author, or delight in the argument, or facility of their judgments, approve of a dull book, their own under- standings will be answera))le, and irreverent people, that cannot distin- guish, will be ready to think that such of them differ from men of vvit, not only in degree, but in order. For all are not t)f my mind, who could never see any one elevated to that dignity, but I presently con- ceived a greater opinion of his Avit than ever I had formerly. But some do not stick to affirm, that even they, the Bishops, C(mie by theirs, not by inspiration, not by teaching, but even as the poor laity do some- times light upon it, — by a good mother. AVhich has occasioned the homely Scotch proverb, that " an ounce of mother \\\t is worth a pound ANDRi:\V MAItVKIJ.. .■>;> of clergy." And as tlioy f<>ine l)y it as do otlior men, so they possess it on tlie san»c condition : tliat tliey cannot transmit it by Itrcatliin":, to\icliin<^, or any natural effluvium, to otlier persons ; not so mucli as to tlieir most doniestick diaplains, or to the ch^sest residentiary. That the King himself, who is no less the spring of that, than he is the fountain of lionour, yet has never used the dubhing or creating of wits as a Hower of his prerogative ; much less can the ecclesiastical power conferre it with the same ease as they do the holy orders. That \\hatsoevt'r they can do of that kind is, at uttermost, to impower men ])y their authority and commission, no otherwise than in the licensing of midwives or physicians. But that as to their collating of any internal talent or ability, they could never pretend to it; their grants and their prohibi- tions are alike invalid, and they can neither capacitate one man to be witty, nor hinder another from being so, further than as they press it at their devotion. Which, if it be the case, they cannot be too exquisite, seeing this way of writing is found so necessary, in making choice of fit instriunents. The Chm-ch's credit is more interested in an ecclesiastical droll, than in a lay chancellor. It is no small trust that is reposed in him to whom the Bisho]) shall commit omne et omnimodum suum ingenium, tain temporale quam spiritualc ; and, how- ever it goes w\t\\ excommunication, they should take good heed to m hat manner of person they delegate the keys of laughter. It is not every man that is qualified to sustain the dignity of the Church's jester, and, should they take as exact a scrutiny of them as of the Nonconformists through their dioceses, tlie numbers would appear inconsiderable upon this Easter visitation. Before men be admitted to so important an employment, it Mere fit they underwent a severe examination ; and that it might appear, first, whether they have any sense ; for without that, how can any man pretend— and yet they do — to be ingenious ? Then, whether they have any modesty ; for without that they can only be scurrilous and impudent. Next, whether any truth ; for true jests are those that do the greatest execution. And lastly, it Mere not amiss that they gave some account, too, of their Christianity ; for the Morld has hitherto been so uncivil as to expect something of that from the clergy, in the design and style even of their lightest and most uncanonical writings." FcM- Bishops seem to have honoured ]\Iarvell M-ith their correspond- ence : but Dr. Croft did not think it derogatory to the mitre to thank his sarcastic avenger. We must give his letter, though it is not the ideal of epistolary or episcopal composition. IMarvell's work, it must be remembered, was published under the name of Andreas Kivctus, Jun.: 56 ANDREW MARVELL. Sir, I choose to run some hazard of this (having no certain information), rather tlian incur your censure of ingratitude to the person who liath set forth IMr. Sniirke in so trim and j)roper a dress, unto whose hands I hope this will happily arrive, to render him due thanks for the humane civility and christian charity shewed to the autlior of Naked Truth, so bespotted Avith the dirty language of foid-mouthed beasts, Avho, thougli he feared much his own Aveakness, yet, by God's undeserved grace, is so strengthened, as not at all to be dejected, or much concerned witli such snarling curs, though sett on by many spightfull hands and hearts, of a high stamp, but as base alloy. I cannot yet get a sight of what the Bishop of Ely (Turner) hath certainly printed ; but keeps very close, to put forth, I suppose, the next approaching session of Par- liament, when there cannot be time to make a reply ; for I have just cause to fear the session will be short. Sii', this assures you, that you have the zealous prayers and hearty service of the author of Naked Ti-uth, your humble Servant, H. C. July," 1676. In answer to this letter from Bishop Croft, Marvell says : — " My Lord, Uj)on Tuesday night last I received your thanks for that which could not deserve your pardon ; for great is your goodnesse to j)rofess a gratitude, where you had a justifiable reason for your clemency ; for notwithstanding the il-treatment you received from others, 'tis I that have given you the highest provocation. A good cause receives more injury from a weak defence, than from a frivolous accusation ; and the ill that does a man no harm, is to be preferred before the good that creates him a prejudice : but yoiu* Lordship's generosity is not, I see, to be reformed by the most exquisite patterns of ill nature ; and while perverse men have made a crime of your virtue,yet 'tis your pleasure to convert the obligation I have placed upon you into a civility. Indeed, I meant all well, but 'tis not every one's good fortune to light into hands where he may escape ; and for a man of good intentions, less than this I coidd not say in due and humble acknowledgment, and your favourable interpretation of me ; for the rest, I most heartily rejoice to understand, that the same God who hath chosen you out to bear so eniinent a testimony to his truth, hath given you also that Christian magnanimity to hold up, without any depression of spirit, against its and your <»pposers : what they intend further, I know not, neither am I curious ; my soid shall not enter into their secrets ; but as long as . God shall send you life and health, I reckon our church is indefectible ; ANDREW MARVELL 57 may lie, tlierefnre, long preserve you to liis ImiKnir, :m(l furtlicr service, wliicli ^Il;lll l>o the constant jn-ayor of, JNIy Lord, Your Lordsliip's most humble and most faithful Servant, London, July IC, 1070. Anurkw I\L\rvell." To this work of iNIarvell's was added a short " Historical Essay con- concerning genera] Councils, Creeds, and Impositions, in INFatters of Religion, hy Andreas Kedivivus, Jun., 1071, quarto." Of Turner, it is but fair to say that, whether his opinions were right or Mrong, he proved his integrity under severe and repeated trials. He was among the seven Bishoj)S who were imprisoned for refusing to authorize the Declaration of Liberty of Conscience ; yet he stuck to James in his adversity, and died a Non-juror and an Exile. These strong and deep-tlioughted satires gained for IMarvell tlie reputation of a vit, even in the court where wit was one of the few good things admissible. Charles himself forgave the Patriot for the sake of the Humourist. Loving ridicule for its own sake, he cared not wliether friend or foe, church or conventicle, were the object of derision. Burnet, who vilifies Marvcll by calling him the " liveliest droll of the age," declares, that "his books were the delight of all classes, from the King, to the tradesman:" a sentence which accidentally points out the limits of reading in those days. As neither wits nor poets have been always remarkable for moral firmness, and are as vulnerable in their vanity and fears as politicians in their avarice and ambition, no means were omitted to win over Marvell. He was threatened, he was flattered, he was thwarted, he was caressed, he was beset Mith sj)ies, and, if all tales be true, he was way-laid by ruffians, and courted ])y Ix-auties. But no Dalilah could discover the secret of his strength : his integrity was proof alike against danger and against corruption ; nor was it enervated by that flattery, M'hich, more frequently than either, seduces those weak, amiable creatures, whom, for lack of better, we are fain to call good. Against threats and bribes, pride is the ally of jirinciple ; l)ut how often has virtue pined away to a shadow, by too fondly contemplating its own image, reflected by insidious praise ; as Narcissus, in the fable, consumed his beauty by gazing on its watery shade. In a Court which held no man to be lionest, and no woman chaste, this soft sorcery was cultivated to perfection ; but IMarvell, revering and respecting himself, was proof against its charms. There is a storv told of his refusiiiij a brilx*, which has been heard and repeated by many, who perhaps did not know in what king's reign II r^Q ANDREW MARVEL!.. lie lived, and which has been so often paralleled with the turnips of Curius, and the like common places, that some sceptical persons have held that there is as little truth in the one as in the other. However, we believe it to have been founded in fact, and that the mistake has been in the dulness of those who took a piece of dry English humour for a stoical exhibition of virtue. At all events, a life of Andrew IMarvell would be as imperfect without it, as a history of King Alfred without the neat-herd's cottage and the Imrnt cakes. It is related with various circumstances, but we shall follow the narrative of a pamphlet printed in Ireland, A. D., 1754 :— " The borough of Hull, in the reign of Charles II., chose Andrew JNIarvell, a young gentleman of little or no fortune, and maintained him in London for the service of the public. His understanding, integrity, and spirit, were dreadful to the then infamous administration. Persuaded that he would be theirs for pro- perly asking, they sent his old school-fellow, the Lord Treasurer Danby, to renew acquaintance with him in his garret. At parting, the Lord Treasurer, out of pure affection, slipped into his hand an order upon the treasury for £1000, and then went to his chariot. Marvell, look- ing at the paper, calls after the Treasiu-er, " JMy Lord, I request another moment." They went up again to the garret, and Jack, the servant boy, was called, " Jack, child, what had I for dinner yester- day > " " Dont you remember, sir .? you had the little shoulder of mutton that you ordered me to bring from a woman in the market." " Very right, child." " What have I for dinner to-day > " " Dont you know, sir, that you bid me lay by the blade-bone to broil." " 'Tis so, very right, child, go away," " My Lord, do you hear that } Andrew jMarvell's dinner is provided ; there's your piece of paper. I want it not, I knew the sort of kindness you intended. I live here to serve my constituents : the ministry may seek men for their purpose ; / am not one." One mark of authenticity the story certainly wants : — it has no date. As, however, it mentions Lord Danby as treasurer, it must have occurred within the last four years of Marvell's life : for Sir Thomas Osborne, afterwards first Duke of Leeds, was not appointed treasurer till the 19th of June, 1673 ; nor was he created Earl Danby till the 27th of June, 1074. The fact of his having been JMarvell's school- fellow rests, as far as we have discovered, upon the Irishman's credit alone, though it is not impossible, as his family estates lay in Yorkshire and Lancashire. In addition to the circumstances mentioned above, it has been custo- mary to enhance the merit of Marvell by relating how, after refusing the King's thousand pounds, he was obliged to borrow a guinea of his ANDREW MAllVKLL. o9 hookscller. But the story is better uitlioiit this heightening toucli. The very familiarity with wliich the word guinea is employed, i)oints to a j)eri(»d when a guinea was the lowest s\un whieh a gentleman could think of accepting. Now guineas were first coined in 1673, and it is by no means likely that the term became immediately familiar. IMarvel! was more likely to have borrowed a broad piece. Borrowing of a book- seller is an exjjedient very likely to occur to an author of later days ; but Andrew IMarvell never was a bookseller's author, nor were book- sellers likely to be liberal lenders, when the coj)yright of Paradise Lost was transferred for £11). JMarvell was far from affluent, but there is no ground for supposing that he ever was, in the proper sense of the word, poor. His paternal estate, though small, was unimpaired ; his mode of living simple and frugal, but not sordid. His company was sought by the great, as well as the witty ; notwithstanding his politics, he was admitted into the company of the merry ^lonarch, (but so to he sure was Colonel Blood,) and he was on so intimate a footing with Prince Rupert, than whenever the Prince dissented from the coiu't measures, it was usual to say " he has l^en with his tutor." It is said, that when JMarvell had become so obnoxious to the Court, or rather to the Duke's party, that it was dan- gerous for him to stir abroad, Rupert visited him at his lunii})le apart- ment, in a Westminster attic. That IMarvell was exposed to assaults from the drunken insolent followers of the Court, such as those that revenged the cause of Nell Gwyn on Sir Jolin Coventry's nose, is almost certain. Homicide, in a midnight scuffle, was then esteemed as venial as adultery. The habit of bloodshed, contracted in civil warfare, had choked up the natural remorse of hearts which had either no religion, or worse than none. But that any settled design of assassinating him was meditated by any l)arty, cannot be proved, and therefore ought not to be believed. • So long indeed, as lie condescended to write in masquerade, and to veil his serious purpose with a ridiculous vizard, it seems to have been the wish of the government to let him escape. But when at last he dared to be once for all in earnest, and set forth the dangers of the con- stitution plainly and ^^ ithoiit a parable, the ruling powers were afraid to laugh any longer, and began to think of prosecuting. In the early part of 1(578, a})j)eared " An Account of the growth of Popery and arbitrary Govcriunent in England," ostensibly jjrinted at Amsterdam, which though without his name, was well known to l)e the work of IMarvell, for none else could and would have written it. Shortly after, the following proclamation appeared in the (lazette. " Whereas there Iiiive liei'ii lately printed and i»ulili-luMl. m'M ral >edi- 60 ANDREW MARVELL. tious and scandalous libi-ls, against the proceedings of both Houses of Parliament, and other his IMajesty's Courts of Justice, to the dishonour of his IMajesty's government, and the hazard of the public peace : These are to give notice, tliat what person soever shall discover unto one of the Secretaries of State, the printer, publisher, author, or liander to the press, of any of the said libels, so that full evidence may be made thereof to a jury, without mentioning the informer ; especially one libel, entitled " An Account of the growth of Popery," &c., and ano- ther called " A seasonable Argument to all Grand Juries," ^-c. ; the discoverer shall be rewarded as follows : — he shall have £50 for the discovery of the printer, or publisher, and for the hander of it to the press, £100," &c. So little was Marvell alarmed at this movement, that he writes to his friend Popple in a strain of jocular defiance about it. The letter is dated 10th of June, 1678, and is perhaps the latest of his extant writings : — " There came out, about Christmas last, a large book, con- cerning ' The growth of Popery and arbitrary Government.' There have been great rewards offered in private, and considerable in the Gazette, to any who would inform of the author. Three or four books, printed since, have described, as near as it was proper to go, the man, ]\Ir. IMarvell, being a member of Parliament, to have been the author ; but if he had, surely he would not have escaped being questioned in Parliament, or some other place." No prosecution, however, ensued, but dark and desperate menacings hovered round him ; he was obliged to be cautious of going abroad, and was sometimes obliged to secrete himself for several days. Perhaps he found it prudent to absent him- self from Town, and seek security among his constituents ; for in an extract from the books of the Corporation of Hull, we find this notice : " This day, 29th July. 1678, the court being met, Andrew Marvell, Esq. one of the burgesses of Parliament for this Borough, came into court, and several discourses w^ere held, about the Town aflfairs." We know not, whether like his father, he was possessed with a presentiment of approaching mortality, and felt that this was to be his last visit to the scenes of his childhood ; but certain it is, he was destined to see them no more. He returned to London, and with scarce any 2)revious illness, or visible decay of constitution, on the 16th of August, he expired. No wonder if so sudden a decease, in an age when all were disposed to believe, and too many to execute, the worst that evil thoughts suggest, were ascribed to the effects of poison ; but since all men are liable to be called away every hour, it is better not to add horrid surmises to the woeful sum of horrid certainties. It is somewhat singular, that the Parliament, in which IMarvell had ANDREW MARVELL. 0L sat SO long, itself tlie longest wliicli ever sat under the monarchy, sur- vived him but one session, us if its dissolution were deferred as long as it numbered one righteous man. The pensiijii Parliament was dissolved on the 30th of December, KIJH. It has l)ecn said that IMarvell was the last member that received wages from his constituents. Others, however, his contemporaries, maintained the right, and sutfered their arrears to accumidate as a cheap resoiircc at the next election. More than once in the course of IMarvell's correspondence, he speaks of members threatening to sue their boroughs for their pay. Aubrey, who knew IMarvell, and may be trusted when lie describes what he saw, says that he was "of a middling stature, pretty strong set, roiuidish cheeked, hazel eyed, brown haired. In his conversation he was modest, and of very few words. He \vas wont to say lie would not drink high, or freely, Avith any one with whom he would not trust his life." Heaven be praised, we live in times when such a resolution would seldom interfere with the circulation of the bottle. If a gentle- man take care that the liquor does not injure him, he need a])prehend no bodily hurt from his compotators. As a Senator, his character ajipears unimjicachalile. He was a true representative of his constituents ; not slavishly submitting his M'isdom to their will, nor setting his privilege above their interests. How he would have acted, had he been a member of the Long Parliament, which presumed to command the King in the name of the nation, and levied forces against the iNIonarch, under his own Great Seal, we can only con- jecture. The sphere of his duty was far different; for the Commons, on the Restoration, necessarily resumed their pristine character, which Mas not that of a ruling Committee, Imt a simple representation of the third estate. There was then no need of a monarchical, or of an aristo- cratical party in the lower House, for the monarchy and aristocracy still retained ample powers of their own. A Vnember of Parliament had therefore only one duty to attend to, as a counsellor is only obliged to serve the interests of his clients, leaving to the Judge and Jury the justice of the general question. We are convinced, that a restitution of the tribunitial power, originally vested in the Commons, should be accompanied with the restoration of the just prerogatives of the Peerage, and of the Crown, " Give the King his own again," and the people will get their own too. Of his poetic merits, we would gladly speak at large, but our limits allow not of immoderate quotation, and his works are too little known, and in general too inaccessible, to be referred to with confidence. It is disgraceful to English bookL^cUers, (we say not to the English nation,) (J2 ANDREW MARVKLL. tliat they Hiid not a place in our popular collections. The writer of this notice can truly say that he met M'ith them only bj'^ accident, and was astonished that they were not familiar as household words. But prol)aI)ly the same causes which retarded the poetic fame of JMilton, went nigh to extinguish that of Andi'ew Marvell. The classical Republicans were few and inefficient. The Puritans would not read poetry. The High-Chm-ch Bigots would read nothing but what emanated from their own party. The common-place roystering Roy- alists were seldom sober enough to read, and the mob-fanatics did not know their letters. ]Moreo^'er, the mere celebrity of a man, in one respect, sometimes throws a temporary shade over his accomplishments in a different line. IMilton had produced Poems in his youth, that alone would place him high among Poets, yet no one remembered that the author of the " Defensio populi Anglicani" had ever written Comus ; and Roscoe was perhaps the first to remind the people of England, that Lorenzo di INIedici ranks high among the bards of Italy. It is not without effort that Me remember that Ca;sar's Commentaries were written by the same man who conquered at Pharsalia. And what reader of Childe Harold thinks of Lord Byron's speech about the Nottingham Frame- breakers ? Lord John Russell's Tragedies are obscured by the lustre of his Reform Bill, and should Paganini produce another Iliad, it would only be read as the preposterous adventure of a fiddler. Hence we may fairly conclude that Marvell's fame M^ould have been greater, had it been less ; that had he been as insignificant a being as Pomfret, or Yalden, Dr. Johnson might have condescended to rank him among the Poets of Great Britain. We took occasion to allude to Marvell's sentiments on tlie death of Charles the First, expressed in his Horatian Ode to Oliver Cromwell. The lines are noble : — AN HORATIAN ODK UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND. * * * Though justice against fate complain, And plead the ancient rights in vain : But those do hold or break, As men are strong or weak. Nature, that hateth emptiness, Allows of penetration less; And therefore must make room Where greater spirits come. What field of all the civil war, Where his were not the deepest scar' ANDKKW M.\KVi;i.L. 63 And Hampton shows what part lie had of wiser art : When twining subtle fears with lioiie, He wove a net of such a scope, That Charles himself might chacf To Carisbrook's narrow case; That thence the royal actor borne, The tragic scaffold might adorne. While round the anuvd lunuh, Did clap their bloody hands : He nothing common did, or mean, Upon that memorable scene} But with his keener ei/e, The ffje's ed(/e did tri/c. Nor calVd the Gods with ndgar spii/ht, To vindicate his helplesse rif/ht : But bow\l his Cornell/ head Dotvne, as upon a bed. This was that memorable hoiire, Which first assured the forced power; So when they did designe The Capitol's first line, A bleeding head where they begim Did fright the architects to nin. The poems of INIarvell are, for the most j)art, productions of liis early youth. They liave mucli of that over-activit}' of fancy, tliat remoteness of allusion, which distinguishes the school of Cowley ; but they have also a heartfelt tenderness, a childish simplicity of feeling, among all their complication of thought, which would atone for all their conceits, if conceit were indeed as great an offence against poetic nature as Addison and other critics of the French school pretend. But thouffh there are cold conceits, a conceit is not necessarily cold. The mind, in certain states of passion, finds comfort in playing with occult or casual resemblances, and dallies with the echo of a sound. We confine our praise to the poems which he MTote for himself. As for those he made to order, for Fairfax or Cromwell, they are as dull as every true son of the muse would wish these things to he. Cajitain Edward Thomson, who collected and published IMarvell's works in I77<>, has, with mischievous industry, scraped together, out of the state poems, and other conunon sewers, a (piantity of obscene and scurrilous trash, which we are convinced INIarvell did not write, and which, by whomsoever written, ought to be delivered over to condign oblivion. With less injiu-y to Marvell's reputation, but ef classical learning in England, the most consj)iruuus name is that of Richard Bentley, who was one of the most prominent characters of the age to which he belonged. He was ecpially distin- guished for the vigour of his intellect, the extent of his erudition, and the violence of his conduct. His life was long and active, and certainly not spent in an even tenor. From the maimer in which it was occu- pied, his natural element appears to have been that of strife and con- tention. His literary controversies, not few in number, were conducted with nnicli ferocity ; nor was his name more familiarly known in the classical huiuits of the IVIuses, than in the undassical Court of King's Bench, where he had six law-suits in less than tlirce years. The name of Bentley occupies a very prominent place in the works of Pope, Swift, and other contemporary satirists, and is familiarly known to nmltitudes who have no knowledge of his writings, or of his real character. ()8 i>K. RICHARD BENTLEV. Of this most learned and pugnacious individual, tlie present Bishop of Gloucester f/)r. Monk), who has cultivated similar studies, has written a most elaborate life. From the Bishop's ample details, and other sources of information, we shall endeavour to give a condensed and accurate view of Bentley's personal and literary history. Richard Bektley was born at OuUon, a village near Leeds, in Yorkshire, on the 27th of January, 1662, His lineage was neither so high, nor so low, as it has sometimes been represented. His progenitors were of that respectable class which has supplied every ])rofession with many of its brightest ornaments, the higher description of English yeomen. They had been settled for some generations at Heptonstall, a village about eight miles from Halifax, where they possessed property. During the civil wars, liis grandfather, James Bentley, a captain in the Boyal army, was taken by the enemy, and died a prisoner in Pontefract Castle. His father, Thomas Bentle\', possessed a small estate at IVoodlcsford, in the parish of Rothwell. In the year 1661, he married Sarah, daughter of Richard IViUle, a stone-mason, at Oulton, and the first offspring of their union was the subject of this memoir. For the first elements of classical learning, he is said to have been indebted to his mother, who is represented to have been a woman of an excellent understanding. He was then sent to a day-school in the neighbouring hamlet of MelhJey, and afterwards to the grammar school at Wakefield. Cumberland says, that "he Avent through the school with singular reputation." It appears that IMr. Jeremiah Boulton was the master of Wakefield school until April, 1672, when a Mr, John Baskerville succeeded him. Of this gentleman, to whom the j)rincipal credit of Bentley's education must belong, nothing is known, but that he Mas of Emmanuel College, Cambridge, and presided in the school at Wakefield till his death, in 1681. Not to name the school, or the masters of men illustrious for literature, has been justly called by Dr. Johnson, "a kind of historical fraud, by which honest fame is inju- riously diminished." For the place of his education, Bentley testified throughout life the greatest attachment, and extended to persons coming from that seminary, liis encouragement and patr(jnage. At the time of Bentley's birth, his father was considerably advanced in life, but his mother Mas only nineteen. They had four children younger than himself, of whom <»nly two, .^nn and Joseph, survived their infancy. When he was thirteen years old his father died, leaving his property at Woodlesford to his eldest son, James, the offspring, as it appears, of a former ujarriage. Richard was committed to the care of his grandfather IVillie, who determined upon sending him to the University. He was admitted, at Cambridge, a Subsizar of St, John's DR. Rl( IIAIM) ItKNTLEV. (i!) College, under the tuition of the Her. Joseph Johnston. The master of tlie college was Dr. Francis Turner, .'ifterwards Uishop of Kly. Of the peculiar direction of Bentley's academical studies, no record has been preserved. That he then laid the foundation of liis accurate and extensive knowledge of the classics, and attained that nice ])ercepti(»ii of their poetical measures, for which he stands unrivalled, ciinnot he doubted. The academical j)rizes which now serve to stinuilate the exertions of students, had, at that period, no existence ; but it is necessary to recollect, that a mind constituted like that of Bentley's required no stin)ulus of this nature. Youthfid genius, when it enters upon its proper career, j)r(»ceeds Mith an impulse tliat seems to be instincti\e ; and not unfrequentlv nourishes a secret contempt for all those objects which are most attractive to minds of a secondary mould. Bentley, wiio was never oppressed with a distrust of his own powers or attain- ments, must speedily have felt a consciousness of superiority over all his classical instructors ; and, like every other scholar who makes any bold exciu'sions lx?yond the common limits, he must, to a great extent, have been his own preceptor. Ha\ing continued at college for u])wards of two years, he became a scholar on the foundation of Dr D(twnnian, and at the ex])iration of the third year, he succeeded to one of the Vorksliire scholarships, founded by Sir Marmaduke Constable. At the regular period he commenced Batchelor of Arts, in company with a greater nundjer of students than have ever taken their degree at the sanie time, till the last two or three years. In the list of honours, his place corresponds with that of third wrangler, according to the present distribution. From a fellowship of his college he was excluded by a provision in the statutes, which j)ro- hibits more than two fello^vs being chosen from tlie same county. He . was, however, appointed head master of the Grammar-school at Spald- \ ing, in Lincolnshire. The commission of so important a trust to a youth, who had only completed the tircntiefh year of his age, is not merely a testimony of his scholarsliij), but implies an opinion favourable to his general character. On attaining the age of majority, he disposed of his interest in the Oulton property to his brother James, and the money thus procured he devoted to the purchase of books, mIucIi are not less necessary to a scholar, than tools to a carpenter.* The office of a country schoolmaster generally fixes the destiny of • For particulars relative to the Oulton property, Bentley's ancestors, and other matters connected with the place of his nativity. Dr. Monk acknowledges himself indebted to his friend John Blaydes, Esq., Jtdi., whose father is possessed of the property in (luestion. 70 1>H- RICHARD BENTLEY. its possessor for life, and forces liim to be contented vitli tlie liumble, but h(»nourable fame to be acquired in the discharge of its duties. But Bentley was designed for a different splierc : he did not j)i-esidc over the school more than a twelvemonth, — too short a period to afford means of estimating liis merits as an instructor, and scarcely sufficient to place his name upon record in that capacity. He next accepted the office of domestic tutor to the son of Dr. Edward Sfi/lint/fieef, Dean of St. Paul's. For this appointment he was indebted to St. John's College, of which the Dean had been a Fellow. To a young man of talents and merit, hardly any situation could have been more advantageous. It was not only favourable to the cultivation of his talents, but to the views of advancement in the clerical pro- fession. Bentley took his degree of IMaster of Arts in July, 168.3, after which his personal connection with Cambridge was discontinued for the space of seventeen years. In the mean time, prosecuting his studies with all tlie advantages of books and literary society, he amassed and digested that prodigious fund of knowledge, which displays itself in his earliest pu])lications. The Revolution of eighty-eight, among various greater and lesser consequences, j)roduced a new batch of Bishops, to sup})ly the sees vacated by the scrupulous Non-jurors, who, though of stout spirits, Avere of timid consciences, and, after braving the Mrath of a bigot in prosperity, preserved unbroken allegiance to a monarch in exile, spite of the metaphysical ligment of the original contract, and the audacious falsehood about the warming pan. !AIany may doubt vhether they acted Avisely ; — none will deny that they thought nobly. Well had it been, had this secession, or depri\'atioii, })roduced no worse effects than the i)romotion of StillingHeet to the diocese of AVorcester, for he was a man whose massive erudition, and sound book-mindedness, were edified by piety, and illumined by good sense. About the same time, Bentley, with his pupil, the younger Still ingfieet, removed to Oxford, and was incorporated IMaster of Arts, July 4th, 1689, being admitted of Wad- ham College. Whatever of living learning Oxford had then to boast, Mas doubtless assiduously sought out by Bentley, but his favourite companions were the MSS. of the Bodleian, and its weighty volumes, — the silent language of the dead. In the ardour of youthful ambition, Bentley projected editions of the Greek grammarians, and Latin jjoets. The project which he contem- plated as the foundation of his fame, was a complete collection of the fragments of the Greek poets ; " an undertaking," as Dr. Monk remarks, " the magnitude and difficulty of which those only cau appreciate, who I)K. IU( HARD BF.NTLEY. 7I have cndeavdurtMl to ((illect tlic (juotations of any one poet, scattered through the wliolc raiiher, he exhibited a sufHcient specimen in Ills earliest publication, subjoined to Dr. Hodi/'s edition of the cliro- joicle of Joannes Malela Antiochenus, which was printed at Oxford in the year 169L " The various and accurate learning, and the astonish- ing sagacity displayed in his epistle to ]\Iill," says Dr. ]\Ionk, "attracted the attention of every person capable of judging upon such subjects. The originality of Bentley's style, the boldness of his oj)inions, and liis secure reliance upon unfailing stores of learning, all marked liim out as a scholar to be ranked witli Scaliger, Casaubon, and Gataker." Such Mas the production whicli established the fame of Bentley, at the age of twenty-nine, in the highest rank of literary emi- nence ; and fr(»m that moment tlie eves of every scholar in Europe were fixed u])on his operations. " Great is the number of persons mIio liave since appeared with success in this department," continues Dr. Monkj " it would not be easy to name a critical essay, which for accuracy, ingenuity, and original learning, can take place of the "Appendix to JMalelas." Bentley's next apj)earance before the public was in the character of a divine. He had received deacon's orders from Compton, Bishoj) of London, in the year l()ilO, and soon afterwards \\as a})ptunted one of the Bishop of Worcester's chaplains. The Honourable Robert Boylk died on the 30th of December, 1G91. Wishing that at his death, he might proniote the same cause to whicli he had devoted his life, he bequeathed by his will, a salary of £50 a year, to found a lectureship for the defence of religion, against infidels. The lecturer was to be chosen annually, and to deliver eiyht discourses in the year, in one of the churches of the metropolis. The care of the trust was bequeathed to four trustees, m ho forthwith nominated IMr. Bentley lectm-er for the first year. We can hardly conceive a greater J2 DR- RICHARD BENTLEV. compliment to tlic merits of a young man only in deacon's orders, than the selection of liini from the whole clerical profession, as the champion of tlie faith delivered down Ity the Apostles. He mentions this distinc- tion at different periods of his life, in such terms as to shew that he considered it the greatest honour with which he was ever invested. The eight discourses which he preached in consequence of this appoint- ment, are in a great degree directed against the principles of Hobbes and Spinoza. According to Dr. Monk, " Bentley claims the undoubted merit of having in these sermons been the first to display the disco- veries of Neavton, in a popular form, and to explain their irresistible force in the proof of a Deity." Before he ventured to print his lectures, he consulted that great philosopher, respecting some of the arguments he had founded upon those discoveries ; and his different queries were answered in f(»ur letters. Newton's Letters on this occasion have been long before the public ; they commence with two remarkable declara- tions, the object of which he had in view while w riting his immortal work, and a disavowal of that intuitive genius for which the world gave him credit ; he says, " when I wTote my treatise about our system, I had an eye upon such principles as might work w ith considering men, for the belief of a Deity, and nothing can rejoice me more than to find it useful for that purpose. But if I have done the public any service this way, it is due to nothing but industry and patient thought." IBentley's reputation for talent and learning was greatly augmented \ by the publication of his lectures ; of which the sixth edition, including I other three discourses, was i)rinted at Cambridge in the year 1735, The lectures were translated into Latin by Jahlouski, who was himself a writer of distinguished learning. Nor did the merit of the author remain without its reward : in the year 1692, soon after he had taken priest's orders, he obtained a Prebend in the cathedral of Worcester ; and in the course of the following year, he succeeded Henry de Justel, as keeper of the King's Library. Such was the auspicious commence- ment of Boyle's Lectures, an institution to which we ow^e some of the ablest theological pieces in our language ; among which we may men- tion " Clarke's Discourses on the Being and Attributes of God," and " Newton's Dissertation on the Prophecies." The reputation which Bentley had now acquired was not unattended with its usual consequences, envy and detraction. The envy produced ])y Bentley's endowTnents, was increased by a certain haughtiness disco- verable in his conversation and demeanour. There was a traditional anecdote current during his life, which shew s the opinions ])revalent up(»n this subject. It is that " a nobleman dining at his patron's, and happenning to sit next to Bentley, was so much struck with his infer- I)K. RK:iIAkI> BENTLKY. 73 matlon and pmrcrs of arj^umeiit. tliat lie roniarked to tlie Bislioji, after - diftVrent from all these : it is not a gift, but a fjracc, — only bestowed on such as have made the soul a temple for the Father of light and love. - . C. K 74 DR. RICHARD BENTLEY. rectory of Hartlehunj, to be held till his pupil sliould arrive at the canonical ago. This ]n-efernient he retained for the space of three years: the interest of the same prelate had, ahout that pericid, procured him the nomination of Cha})Iain in ordinary to the King. It \yas also about this period that he was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society. We must liere record it as an instance of scandalous ingratitude, that when the Bishop's grandson, Benjamin Stillingfleet, was left an orphan, and was sent, in tlie humble capacity of sizar, to Trinity College, Bentley refused to give him a fellowship, and preferred several com- petitors of inferior attainments. At the conunencement of the year 1690, he ceased to reside in the Bishop's house, in Park-Street, Westminster, and took possession of the librarian's apartments in St. James's Palace ; and in the month of July, he was created Doctor of Divinity, at Cambridge. He was appointed to preach the commencement sermon, and the subject which he selected was that " of Revelation, and the ]Messias ;" a subject which he treated in a manner not unworthy of his reputation. Dr. Bentley was now making a rapid approach to the full lieight of his literary fame, and his princijjal efforts were more tlie results of accidental excitements, than of his own deliberate plans. In the year 1092, Sir William Temple, one of the most fashionable Avriters of the age, had ])ul)lished " An Essay on Ancient and IModern Learning," in which he strenuously opposed the opinions of Fontenelle and Perrault, who liad given a very decided preference to the moderns. Sir William had caught the contagion of the then prevalent literary controversy, in which the first scholars in Europe were engaged, and he was of opinion that the ancients possessed a greater force of genius, with some peculiar ad\antages ; that the human mind was in a state of decay ; and that our knowledge was nothing more than scattered fragments saved out of the general shipwreck. But Temple's learning was of that gentle- manlike quality which fitted him rather to admire than to judge ; and his preference of the ancients probably arose more from long familiarity, and pleasant associations, than from a fair estimate of comparative value. Had he advanced the names of Shakspeare, IMilton, Bacon, Newton, he would have furnished his French antagonists with powers they knew not of. The fables of JEsop, and the epistles of Phalaris, which he believed to be the most ancient pieces of prose written by profane authors, doubtless appeared much more to the purpose. Dr. Aldrich, the learned dean of Christ Church, was accustomed to employ some of his best scholars in preparing editions of classical works; and of these jniblications, A\hich were generally of a moderate com})ass, it \\as his practice to j)resent a copy to every young man in his college. DR. RRllAIM) liENTLEV. 75 The task of editing the ejiistlcs of Phalans was committed to the Hon. Charles Bovlk, a yoniifr <;('iitU'iii;iii of jjloasinjr manners, and of a relish frn- learning:, ereditaljJe to iiis age and rank, lie had j)rofited by the tuition of Da. Galk, the dean of York, who liad long cultivated Grecian literature ; and on liis admissi<»n at Christ Churcli, lie was under the tuition of ATTEnBuiiv, m ho, if not a imjfouiid, was at least an elegant scholar. In his editorial lalwiurs he was aided by his private tutor, J(*/j« /Vt/«(/, then one of the junior students, and afterwards a physician of no small celebrity. The editor of Phalaris wished to procure the c(»llation of a manuscript belonging to the Royal library ; but, instejid of making any direct application to the librarian, he had recourse to the agency of Thomas Bennett, a bookseller, in St. Paul's Churchyard, who apj)ears to have executed liis commission Mith no extraordinary degree of zeal, or despatch. In order to conceal his own negligence, he is supposed to have misrepresented the entire trans- action to his employers at Oxford ; and the i)reface to Mr. Boyle's edition of Phalaris, published in the year 169"), contains a sarcastic reflecti(m on Bentley for his want of civility. To the editor he inune- diately addressed a letter, explaining the real circiunstance of the case ; but, instead of receiving an answer in the spirit of conciliation, he was given to understand he might seek his redress in any way he pleased. It is, however, dangerous to take a lion by the beard. Dn. WoTTON had recently engaged in a controversy respecting the comparative excellence of the ancients and moderns, and afti'r he had sent to the press liis " Reflections upon Ancient and IModern Learning," Bentley hapjiened to state, in a conversation, that the epistles of Phalaris were spurious, and that we have nothing now extant of JEaop's own composing. This casual remark led to a promise that he Mould furnish a written statement of his opinions, to be added to the second edition of the Reflections. » A new edition of the " Reflections on Ancient and ]Modern Learn- ing " being called for, Wotton claimed his friend's promise, that he Mould demonstrate Phalaris's epistles and iEsop's fa))les, to be forgeries. Bentley desired ti» exciise himself, alleging, tliat circumstances uere altered since the jn-omise was made, as the treatment Mhich he had received in the jireface to the Oxford Phalaris, would make it impos- sible for him to m rite his dissertation, Mithout noticing the calumny pro])agate(l against him in tliat Mork. This excuse not ai)i)earing sutticient, his friend exacted the performance of the engagement. This is his OMU account. Mhich Me find inie(iui\(ically corroborated by Wot- ton. Accordinglv, he undertook a dissertation, in the form of letters, to Wotton, in M-hich the main object Mas, to demonstrate that the 7(3 DR. RICHARD BENTLEY. autlior of " Plialaris' Epistles," Mas not the Sicilian tyrant, but sonde' sophist of a move recent age ; reserving to the conclusion his remarks on Boyle's edition, and the personal reflection upon himself. There^ still remained the .¥.so})ian fables, the other great object of Sir William Temple's admiration ; and to dispossess the old Phrygian fal)ulist of the credit, or rather the discredit, of having written the collection, was no difficult task. " This section of Bentley's perform- ance," says Dr. IMonk, " exhibits little novelty or research, and bears greater marks of haste than any other part of the dissertation. It is prol)able that the printer A\as too urgent, or his friend "Wotton too impatient, for the publication of the ))ook, to allow more time for the Ap})endix. The history of the fables, though not generally kno^vn, had in fact been told before, and Bentley only contributed greater precision and accuracy, together with a few additional circumstances." On the puldication of this joint work, the sensation in the literary and academical circles ^as without parallel. In the large and dis- tinguished society of Christ Church, it produced a perfect ferment. The attack upon the Plialaris was considered an affront to the dean, under whose auspices it Mas piddished, and the college, for Mhose use it was designed. It was therefore resolved that the audacious offender shoidd experience the full resentment of the body whom he had provoked ; and the task of inflicting this public chastisement devolved upon the ablest scholars and wits of the college. The leaders of the confederacy were Francis Atterbury and George Smalridge, both of them, in process of time, members of the Episcopal bench. Each was nearly of the same age as Bentley, and they were regarded as the rising lights of the University. j\Ir. Boyle, in Mhose name and behalf the controversy was carried on, seems to have had but a small share of the actual o])eration, having then quitted academical pursuits, and entered upon the theatre of active life. But as Bentley's opponents were likely to obtain little triumph in matters of erudition, they determined to hold up his character to ridicule and odium ; to dispute his honesty and veracity ; and, by representing him as a model of pedantry, conceit, and ill manners, to raise such an outcry as should drive him off the literary stage for ever. Accordingly, every circum- stance M'hich could be discovered respecting his life and conversation, every trivial anecdote, however unconnected with the controversy, was caught up, and made a topic cither of censure or ridicule. Rumours and conjectures are the lot of contemporaries. Truth seems reserved for posterity, and, like the fabled IMinerva, is born at once. The secret history of this volume has been partly opened in one of Wahburton's letters. Pope, it appears, was " let into the secret." DR. KICIIARD BICNTLI'-Y. 77 The principal sliaro of tlie uiulcrtakiii>j^ fell to the lot of Atterbiiry. This was suspoctc'd at the time, and has sinco heeii placed Ix-ynnd all (htiiht, by the publication of a letter of his to JJoyle, in which he men- tions that " in writinj^ more than half the book, in reviewing a good part of the rest, and in transcribing tlie whole, half a year of his life had passed away." The main part of the discussion upon Phalaris was from l»is pen. That upon vKsop was believed to be written by John Frcind, and he was })rol)al)ly assisted in it by .llsop, wlut at that time was engaged on an eri(lge, who was related to the Boyle's, puljlished about this time his well known poem, " The Dispensary," and pro- nounced his judgment u])on the merits of the two combatants in this simile : — • " So diamonds take a histre from their foil, And to a Bentley 'tis we owe a Boyle." A couplet which is, perhaps, more frefpiently rpioted than any other in the poem, and always to the disparagement of the author's judgment. At Candjridge, a caricature was exhibited of Phalaris putting the unfortunate critic into his brazen bull ; and, as it was thought that a member of St. John's College could not ])roj)erly make his exit without a pun, he was represented saying " I had rather be roasted than Boylcfl." Of all the attacks upon Bentley written at this ])erio(l, the only one I)K. IMCHARD BliNTLEY. 79 uliicli ((Uitinut'^ to l)o known by its o« 11 merits, is '' Swil'tV Battle of the Books," a j)iece exhiliitiiijji;, jterliaps, more than any of his writings, the original vein of launour Mhieh distinguishes its author. Like its predecessor the " Tale of a Tub," it was composed to soothe the morti- fied feelings of his patron Sir William Temple. This m r»rk continues to be read and laughed over bv tliousands, who would have turned a deaf ear to the eloquence of the English Memin'tus, and all the condiined wit and learning of Christ Church. Tlie facetious Du. King, also, seems to have been one of those rabid M'its, who fastens ()n his j)rey, and does not hastily draw his fangs fnjm the noble animal. At one of those conferences which passed between Bentley and the bookseller. King was present, and being called Uj)on by Boyle to bear part in the drama, performed it quite to the taste of " the bees." He addressed a letter to Dkan Aldricii, in which he gave one particular ; and to make up a sufficient dose, droj)ped some corrosives. He closed his letter thus: — "that scoru and contempt which I have naturally for pride aaid insolence, makes me remendjer what otherwise I might have forgotton." Nothing touclied Bentley more than reflections on his "pride and insolence." Our defects seem to lose nnich of their charactci*, in reference to ourselves, by habit and natiu-al disposition ; yet we have always a painful suspicion of their existence, and he who touches tliem without tenderness is never pardoned. The invective of King had all the bitterness of truth. Bentley nicknames King, Humtij Dumty, through the progress of the controversy, for his tavern pleasures, and accuses liim of m riting more in taverns, than in his study. He little knew the injustice of the chartre aiiainst a student w ho had w ritten notes to 22,000 books and IMSS. But all this was not done with impunity. An irritated wit only finds his adversary cutting out work for liim. A second letter, more aluuidant with the same pungent qualities, fell on the head of Bentley. King says of the arch-critic, — " he thinks meanly, I Hnd, of mv reading ; yet for all that, I dare say I have read more than any man in England, besides him and me, for I have read his book all lit rough." A keen repartee this ! Men of genius are more subject to " unnatural civil war," tlnui eveu the blockheads whom Pope sarcastically reproaches with it. Bentley 's (•pinion of his own volume seems equally modest and just. " To under- \alue this dispute about Phalaris, because it does not suit one's own studies, is to (piarrel w ith a circle because it is not a square. If the same question be not of \-ulgar use, it w as w rit therefore for a few ; for even the greatest performances, upon the most important subjects, are no entertainment at all to the many of the world." 80 DR. RICHARD BENTLEY. Beiitley, altliougli the solid force of liis miiul Avas not favourable to tlie lii>litor sports of wit, yet uas it not quite destitute of those airy (jualities; nor does he seem insensible to the literary merits of "that odd work," as he calls Boyle's volume ; and conveys a good notion of it, M hen he says, " it may be very useful as a common-place book, for ridicule, banter, and all the topics of calumny." With equal dignity and sense, he observes, on the ridicide so freely used in that work, — "I am content, that m hat is the greatest virtue of his book, should be coiuited the greatest fault in mine." His reply to "IMilo's End," and the torture he was supposed to pass through, Mhen thro\ni into Phalaris's bull, is a piece of sarcastic lunnour, Mhich will not suffer by comparison with the volume more celebrated for its wit. " Tlie facetious ' Examiner ' seems resolved to vie with Phalaris himself in the science of Phalarism; for his revenge is not satisfied m ith one single death of his adversary, but he will kill me over and over again. He has slain me twice, by two several deaths ! one in the first page of his book, and another in the last. In the title- page I die the death of ^IWo, the Cretonian ; the application of which must be this : — that as Milo, after his victories at six several Olym- piads, was at last conquered and destroyed in wrestling with a tree ; so I, after I had attained to some small reputation in letters, am to be quite baffled and run down by wooden antagonists. But, in the end of his book, he has got me into Phalaris's bull, and he has the pleasure of fancying that lie hears me begin to bellow. Well, since it is that I am in the bull, I have performed the part of a sufiferer. For as the cries of the tormented in old Phalaris's bull, being conveyed through pipes lodged in the machine, Avere turned into music for the entertainment of the tyrant; so the complaints Mhich my torments express from me, being conveyed to Mr. Boyle by this answer, are all dedi(;ated to his jdeasurc and diversion. But yet, methinks, when he was setting up to ])e Plialaris ju7iior, the very omen of it might have deterred him. As the old tyrant himself at last bellowed in his own bull, his imitators ought to consider that, at long run, their oAvn actions may chance to overtake them." Bentley meanwhile remained calm xuider this merciless storm, relying npon the goodness of his cause, and a conviction that the public judge- ment, however strangely it may be perverted for a time, will at length come to a just decision upon every question. Warburton tells an anecdote upon the authority of Dr. S. (whom we apprehend to be Smalll)roke, Bishoj) of Lichfield and Coventry,) who meeting Bentley at this period, and telling him not to be discouraged at the rmi made against him, was answered, " indeed I am in no pain about the matter DR. RICHARD BKNTLEY. 81 for It is a maxim witli mc, that no niuii \v;is ever written out of rej)uta- tion but ])\ liimself." He had unw, however, to experience tlie most painful of all circumstances attending jxtjnjar outcry ; the desertion, or coldness of some friends, whose regards were influenced by fashion. That he felt inieasiness at this situation may well be believed, indeed he confesses as much in one of his letters to Grcrvius ; but instead of expressing this to the world, he applied himself to write such an answ er as should eflx'ctiudly turn the tide of popular opinion, and make the weapons of his enemies recoil upon their omu heads. His sentiments at this time are expressed in a letter to his unshaken friend Evelyn, who ap])ears to have stood up alone as liis defender, and to have recom- mended the ])ublic to wait and hear the other side, before they pronounced his condemnation. He feels gratefully this proof of Evelyn's friendshij) ; and assures him that lie shall very shortly be able to refute all the charges, and all the cavils of his enemies, so fully " both in points of learning, and of fact, that tliey themselves would feel ashamed." That Bentley did not inunediately re])ly to his adversaries must be regarded as fortunate, not only for himself, but for the whole learned world. " Although there is no doubt," says Dr. Monk, " but that such a publication, as he meditated, would have put liim iu possession of the victory, and settled the whole controversy, so perfectly was he master of all parts of the question, yet a hasty performance could not have su])i)lied us with so valuable a treasure of wit and learning, as a2)pcared at the beginning of the following year ; a piece which by the concvu-ring testimony of all scholars has never been rivalled. The Bojleans had piu-sued a course calculated to display their adversary to the greatest lulvantage, and to raise to the liighest pinnacle the reputa- tion which they designed to overthrow. In their efibrts to confute his reasonings about Phalaris, they had introduced a variety of new topics,, which the Mriters, from whence they drew their knowledge, had treated either erroueousl}', or slightly. This imposed upon Bentley the neces- sity of explaining and elucidating them ; in doing which he was able to develope stores of learning, more than either his friends hoped, or his enemies apprehended. It Mas fully believed that his first dissertation had Ijeen the elaljorate result of more than two years attention to the subject ; that his bolt was now shot, and that his learning and objec- tions Mere exhausted. So far Mas this from being the case, that it Mas in fact a hasty sketch, the sheets of Mhich were sent to the press as fast as they M'ere Mrittcn. When the famous reply aj)peared, the public found to their astonishment, that the former j)iece had consisted only of the sprinklinys of inuneuse stores of learning, Mhich might almost be 82 DR. RICHARD BENTLEY. said, like liis talents, to expand with the occasion that called them forth. Before lie submitted his case to the world, Bentley M'as carefid to arm himself with a full refutation of those charges upon his personal behaviour. This work Avas given to the j)viblic in the beginning of the year 1699 ; the appearance of Mhich is to be considered as an epoch, not only in the life of Bentley, but in the history of literature. The victory obtained over his opponents, although the most complete that can be imagined, constitutes but a small part of the merit of this performance. Such is the author's address, that while every page is professedly controversial, tliere is embodied in the work a quantity of accurate information rela- tive to history, chronology, anticpiities, philology, and criticism, which it will be difficult to match in any other volume. The cavils of the Boyleans had fortunately toiiched upon so many topics, as to draw from their adversary a mass of learning, none of which is misplaced or suj)erfluous : he contrives Avith admirable judgment to give the reader all the information that can be desired upon each question, while he never loses sight of his main oliject. Profound and various as are the sources of his learning, every thing is so well arranged, and placed in so clear a vicM', that the mere novice in classical literature, may peruse the book with profit and pleasiu'e, while the most accomplished scholar cannot fail to find his knowledge enlarged. Nor is this merely the language of those who are partial to the author ; the learned Dodwell, mIio had no peculiar motive to be pleased with a work, (in which he Avas a considerable sufferer, and who, as a Non-juror, was preju- diced against Bentley's party,) is recorded to have avowed, " that he had never learned so much from a book in his life." This learned volume owed much of its attraction to the strain of humour which makes the perusal highly entertaining. The advocates of Phalaris having chosen to rely upon wit and railery, were now made to feel in their turn the consequences of the warfare which they had adopted. Even Bishoj) Warburton, who was not well disposed to Bentley's reputation, admits, that " he beat the Oxford men at their own weapons." Sir William Temple was spared the mortification of beholding the result of a controversy, upon which he had so imprudently staked his credit for taste and discernment. He died a few weeks before the appearance of the dissertation, which was to annihilate for ever the pretensions. of this Sicilian hero to the fame of authorship. His Christ Church allies did not feel easy under the report that a reply from Dr. Bentley was in preparation, and they seemed to have thought in earnest of executing the threat denounced in the gaiety of their hearts, tliat if the Doctor DK. i;i( iiAi;i) liKNTLKV, }{;] was ii(»t quiet, '' thoy would j)ut fortli a l)(»i»k against liiiii ovcrj- ludiitli as long as lie lived." Bentley, who was now only in the 38th year of his age, was left to enjoy the triumph of his great learning and sagacity, to which even the most averse were compelled to j)ay homage : and what was a still more important rosidt of liis hook, he had silenced, and put so shame, the slanderous attacks made upon liis character. Upon the various matters of tliis celebrated controversy, his victory was complete and final, and he was left in undisputed possession of the field. A declaration Mas indeed made by his adversaries of their intention to publish a c<»mplete reply to liis book ; but this was all an empty vaunt ; thoy felt their inability to renew the conflict uj)on (juestions of learning, and it was the course of j)rudeiice, not to recal public attention to the (lispute. It may be remarked that not one of the Boylean confederacy ever again appeared before the world as a critic. Atterbury, their leader, inuiiediately found business of a diffei'ent character. We now enter upon ditiicidt ground. Hitherto we have contemplated Bentley as a scholar, disjniting with Mould-be-seholars, in a field, where his scholarshij) gained a dear, a difficult, and a glorious victory. In the Phalaris controversy he was a knight, clad in impenetrable mail, con- descending to defeat a conspiracy of fencing-masters at their favourite ' tierce and carte,' and then crushing them, all and several, by the blows of his invincible mace. Standing on the vantage ground of truth, he despised their pitiful cries of " foul jday," and demonstrated himself as staiidess in honour, as he was redou])ta])le in prowess. It is really mortifying to see the armed champion sinking into a petty litigant, and to find him contending, not for the unstained virginity of antique learning, Ijut for miserable quibl)les of college etiquette, and yet meaner matters connected M'ith " the three denominations" of poiuuls, shillings, and pence. Posterity, (who and Mhat is it?) have been constituted a court from which there is no appeal. Before this imaginary tribunal every great man is called to account for his deeds conunitted in the flesh. His biographer is presiuned to be at once advocate and judge, w hile in fact he should be no more than witness. Dr. IMonk, the only authentic biographer of Bentley, is doubtless an admirable witness, but as an advocate, he lays himself open to the charge alleged against a certain great jurist, in the case of poor Pclfier, of sacrificing his client to his own reputation for impartiality ; and as a judge, he takes especial care not to prejudice the jury in favo\ir of the panel. He has elaborately stated all that Bentley did to offend the college, and as little about what the college did to offend Bentley. He has given the original 84 DR. RICHARD BENTLEY. Latin, (and wliat Latin ! !) of the statutes ^dlicll Bentley was accused of violating ; but lie has not impressed, by any pains taking of his own, the good and sufficient reasons for which Bentley disregarded the letter of the law, in order to vitalize its spirit. People at this time of day will not care much whether the statutable onus of a few hundreds lay upon the master of Trinity college, or upon the fellows. Be it recollected, that Are are not speaking of sums drawn from the people ; but of an estate, entrusted to certain hands for certain purposes. Bentley conceived that the trustees were diverting too large a portion of this estate to their j)ersonal uses; that the fellows of trinity had a strong inclination to turn the college funds into a snug sinecure. To correct this growing evil he resorted to his magisterial prerogative. He found himself at the head of a royal foundation, and took upon him the authority of a king, perhaps unconstitutionally, but still for the benefit of the whole, of a permanent body, as contra- distiufiruished from individual interests. The foundation of Trinity college, Cambridge, is said to have heen " the first-fruit of the Refoi-mation." Henry VIII, about a month before his death, appropriated to the establishment of that college a part of the revenues of the spoliated monasteries. " The price of a dog, and the hire of a harlot," say the Rabbins, "shall not be jjut to any holy purpose," and even the Jewish priests, Mho murdered the Lord of life, refused to put the price of blood into their treasury. But the price of much blood, the hire of much spiritual prostitution, constituted the original treasui-y of that corporation, whose name now being utterly disconnected with all religious associations, and giving rise to innumer- able irreverend puns, might very fitly be changed. Its first days were I / dark and turbid, no M'onder, yet it received a body of statutes from Edward VI. that blossom of royalty, whose beautiful youth, and timely / death, preserved the house of Tudor from utter execration, who, hap- \\ pib' ^^^ himself, if not for England, was called away before his mother's I milk was well out of his veins, and before any of his father's venom was ripened. Queen Elizabeth, who united the best and worst of both sexes, her grandfather's craft and frugality, her father's courage and crucltv, n so little to have been expected, by a nicml)cr of St. John's, lie replied in the Mords of the Psalmist, " by the heli) of my God, I have leaped over the Mall." Another anecdote, preserved in Dr. Bentley's family, relates that Bishop Stillingrieet said, "we must send Bentley to rule the turbulent felloMs of Trinity College ; if any body can do it, he is the person ; for I am sure he has ruled my family ever since he entered it." On the first of Fel)ruary, 1700, Bentley was installed ]\Iaster of Trinity College, — looked upon by Europe as her first scholar, and by England as the tutor of her future sovereign. But the hand of Providence Mas heavy on the house of Stuart. ^Villiam, Duke of Gloucester, died July 29, 1/00, and so prevented Bentley from sharing 8(j DR. RICHARD BENTLEY. the honours of Fenklon, as the preceptor of a possible good king, or tlie (liss^raco of Seneca, as the instructor of an actual Nero. His first step on entering into the office was of a very inauspicious description. A di\ i(Unid from the sur})his money had been fixed in December 1G99, to be paid agreeably to the custom of the college, to the IMasters and FelloMS for the year ending at INIichaelmas. The Master'* share, amounting to £170, was clearly due to Dr. JMontague, M hose resignation took ])lace in November, but by some accident it had not been disbursed U) him. Bentley immediately upon his admission, claimed this svnn, as being profits accruing during the vacancy, and therefore payable to the new master, and hy terrifying the treasurer, who declined paying it, with a threat of bringing him before the Archljishop of Canterbury, he actually obtained the money.* It so happened, that, at Bentley's accession, the JMaster's lodge, at Trinity, was very much in want of repair. He, \vho was a member of the same club with Sir Christopher Wren, and M'hose sjiirit was a sojourner in Athens, must needs have had magnificent ideas of archi- tecture ; and if he had very inadequate calculations of the expense attending the realization of such ideas, the errors of his arithmetic ought not to impTign the fntegrity of his princijjles. Yet the expen- siveness of these improvements, — the long bills he ran up with masons, carpenters, glaziers,\ &c., and the violent means thereby he enforced payment at the college expense, were the chief ostensible pretexts of the quarrel between Bentley and his college ! Its real causes however we believe to have lain much deeper. In the' first year of his mastership, Bentley became Vice Chan- cellor, being chosen agreeably to the custom of the University, as a senior in degree among the Heads of houses, who had not already * With all our admiration of Bentley, we are constrained to admit that, in money matters, he displayed neither the indifference of a scholar, the liberality of a gentle- man, nor the exactness of an honest man. Very possibly, he had suffered in his youth from inattention to these things ; and there are never wanting prudent friends to persuade a man that, because he is a genius, or learned, all the world are in a conspiracy to rob him. No man was ever long honest, who habitually distrusted the honesty of others ; for who will labour to attain or preserve a virtue which he does not believe to exist ? Money squabbles, however, are a most unfortunate commence- ment of any connection between individuals or societies. The civil list is a tcet hlfinhct on a young king's popularity ; and a contested point in the marriage articles, though quite forgotten in the ardour of the honey moon, often proves a rankling thorn in the side of matrimonial felicitj'. C. f filaziers. This respectable trade is not rashly called in question. The insertion of sa.'ih windows in the lodge, was one of the grounds upon which Bentley was prosecuted. C. DK. KICIIARI) JiKNTLEV. 87 served ill tliat ofHce. Owinj;, j)n)l);il)ly, to liis iiie\'iK'iiciuo in University business, very few matters of ini|>(irt;in(e were transacted durinj^ tlie year of Bentley's vice cliancellorsliiji. One of its duties seems to consist in givinr, and in defiance of his authority. His vindication of these privileges granted by cliarters and acts of parliament, was essential to the discipline of the place, and we may judge from the practice of subsequent times, that the prompt interference of Dr. Beutley on this occasion, was productive of good and permanent effects. A Greek prelate, Neophytos, Archbishop of Philippopoli, visiting England at this time, came to Canil)ridge, and was admitted doctor of divinity b} the University. On this occasion, the Vice Chancellor, Avith great good nature, directed that he should be presented by the Greek Professor, Joshua Barnes,'"' who was thus gratified with the opportunity of delivering a Greek oration, a copy of which is still preserved. Before the end of his year of office, Bentley had the gratification of declaring his political sentiments, and those of the University, in an address j)resented to King William, upon Louis XIV. acknowledging the son of James II. as King of England. The address was vuidoubt- edlv composed by the Vice Chancellor, \y\\o expressed his opinion on j)ublic affairs in clear and uncompromising terms. On the death of Dr. SayweIjI^, Bentley was collated to the Arch- deaconry of Ebj, a dignity which, besides his rank in the Church, Mas endowed with the two livings of Haddenham and Wilhurton. He had the honour of receiving this preferment from Bishop Patrick, one of the most learned and exemplary prelates that ever graced the Bench. As the archdeaconry conferred a seat in the lower House of Convoca- tion, then at high discord \\\\\i the Bishops, it seems probable that a M'ish to call into action, on the other side, such talents and spirits as Bentley's, might have occasioned this appointment. He was regular in his attendance at the synod as long as it was permitted to meet and deliberate, and he took a share in the debates. It has already been stated, that the blaster of Trinity is a nominee of the crown. The heads of almost every other college are elected by the Fellows. Hence it is likely that the a])pointnient of every head- master, will much resemble the placing of a Scottish minister in those days, when the Covenanters had not fully submitted to the yoke of * Of Joshua Barnes, who wrote a tract to prove that the real author of the Iliad ■was no other than Solomon, Benltey declared, " that he understood Greek as well as an Athenian cohler." "We are inclined to believe that an Athenian cobler would have puzzled Bentley himself. Yet the observation is witty, and well expresses the distinction, between extensive learning, and critical scholarship. C. DR. RICHARD URNTLKV. }}9 )»atronagc. Wliatevor liis jicrsonal merits niav Ix', lie wants tlio saiiftifni of an Iiarnionious cull, ^\^•l•c' he even tlio very person whom tliey Mduld liavc elected, they will not immediately forj^ct that they did not elect him, and if, instead of the longest approved nieniher of tlieir own society, an alien, and a junior is set over their lieads, the implied decla- rjvtion of their insufficiency to the j)urposes of self-government, will strengtlien sliyness into antipathy; an antipathy easily enough overcome if the stranger take pains to make liimself, as the phrase is, "one of us;" but sure to ferment into deadly hatred, if he assume the port and authorit}' of a ciaupieror. Bentley seems to have behaved towards his fellows as a Norman lord to Saxon booi'S ; to have treated their perqui- sites, and privileges, as if they were mere conditional concessions, volun- tary and teni])orary abatements of his })rerogative, dependent u])(in good behaviour. But, worse than all, he did not associate with them, he woidd ui»t be " one of us" among them, and of all crimes wjiich any man can commit against mess, common-room, corporation, or coterie, of M-hich he is an enrolled member, this is the most grievous, and the more grievous in jjroportion to his admitted sii])eriori_ty. Bentley, lioMever, m hen at Cambi-idge, chose to live with a small party of friends, among whom, Davis, whose classical pursuits resem- bled his OAvn, was the most respectable ; and Ashcnhurst, a young pliysiciau, wlio practised in the luiiversity, the most devoted. Yet was the critic always accessible to scholars, and alert in promoting the in- terests of literature, of m hich he gave an instance in his patronage of KusTER," a learned German, whose edition of Suidas, he procured to be printed at the Cambridge press. * Llbolf KrsTER, au erudite Westphaliaii, wliose treatise ou the Greek Middle Verb, has made his name familiar even in grammar schools, was appointed by Frederic, first king of Prassia, professor of an academy at Berlin, and obtained leave to visit foreign Universities. In his youth, forbearing to insult the ear of anti- quitj-, by clapping ata us to the end of his Teutonic sirname, he followed the practice of Erasmus, Melancthon, Scapula, and other early scholars, publishing under the signature Neocoris, the nearest Greek translation of Kuster, which in German signifies a sciiun. He was by the veteran Grcevivs, introduced to the notice of Bentlev, and having while at Paris, collated three MSS. of Suidas, he undertook an edition of that lexicographer, which, as related in the text, was printed at Cambridge. It was a hurried, and therefore ill-digested work, which did not escape severe animad- vci-sions. Si IDAS was a compiler of the tenth centuiy, whose whole, or chief value arises from the fragments of ancient authors embedded in him, like grains of porphyry in sand ; a weak and credulous man, to whom we owe many of the scan- dalous tales which lilxl the old philosophers and poets ; in the amendment of whose corniptions, and in the confutation of wliose errors, Bentley himself would liave been usefully employed, albeit that Poi'E obliquely reproaches him with " poaching in M 90 i>K. RICHARD BENTLEY. At tlio ficncral election, in November, 17^^!? Cambridge returned to parliament I\Ir. Isaac Newton. Never can she hope again to be so represented. Yet the pliilosopher must have felt rather out of his element among the squires and courtiers in St. Stephen's. It is need- less to say that Bentley voted for his illustrious friend. Returning with ardour to liis interrupted studies, in the following summer, the great critic announced his intention of publishing an edition of Horace, the most popular (if the term may be allowed) of all the Latin poets, and the only one of which nine tenths of those who enjoy a classical education liave any remembrance. Sixidas for unlicensed Greek." Anno 1706, Kuster's three folios of the lexicon being completed, the editor returned to Berlin, and, by the management of Bentley, his introduction to his royal master was particularly auspicious. The University of Frankfort, on the Oder, having resolved to celebrate the centenary anniversary of its foundation with secular solemnities, invited various other Universities to assist by their deputies at this ceremony. The invitation sent to Cambridge was courteously accepted, and a deputation was nominated by the senate, consisting of representa- tives in the different faculties. The King of Prussia presided at the solemnities, and Kuster being attached to the delegation, was presented to him attired in the scarlet robes of a Cambridge doctor, and received in the gracious manner which his merits and character demanded. There exists a curious letter from him to Bentley, in English, giving a detailed account of this academical jubilee : See Monh^s Life, p. 149. Here permit me to remark a peculiar use and beauty of classical literature, iu gi\'ing a common language, a common interest, a co-patriotism to the scholars of difi'erent countries, and thereby promoting a free intercourse, which, breaking down the bar- riers of national prejudice, confers a real benefit on those that have no tongue but that their mothers taught them, softening the horrors of war, and preparing the earth for universal peace. Perhaps it is a further advantage, that the common lan- guage is no longer that of any existing nation, it puts all upon an equality. Kvister was too eminent not to be envied, too proud, or too petulant, to be a court professor, so he left Berlin hastily, either oppressed by his rivals, or disgusted with his livery. With the king's permission, he returned to Utrecht, resigned his situation, and proposed an edition of Hcsychhis, the most important of the Greek lexicogra- phers, relying on the assistance of Bentley, who was known to have turned his atten- tion particularly to that author. Bentley made a liberal offer of his emendations, but saddled with a condition, that the work should be printed at Cambridge. We can- not help wishing, that our English Aristarch had not insisted on this proviso, whereby much delay was iuterj>osed, and the Ilesychiua finally postponed till too late, for Kuster never lived to complete it Methinks the shade of the lexicographer might arise and say, with the Miltonic Satan : — " What matter where, if I be still the same, And what I should be ? " Kuster engaged in an edition of Jamblichus's life of Pythagoras; one of the attempts of declining paganism, to produce miracles and revelations, in opposition to those of Christianity. He afterwards put forth an Arhlophancs, which met with success, but all these labours did not preserve their author fiom restlessness and OH. RICHARD BKNTLEY. 91 For Bentlcy's purpose, however, Horace was not, perliaps, the best book to be cliosen ; for Beiitley, with erudition unbounded, and under- standing strong as subtle, had not a spark of poetry in his nature, and seems to have allowed the poet no privilege above the prosemaii, except the burdensome distinction of \erse. IMetre \»as the only peculiar (piality of poetry of wliieh lie had any feeling ; nnr was he aware, that to criticise a poet, something more is necessary, l)esides a general mastery of the language in which he Avrites. IMoreover, Horace was not corriipt enough to furnish emi)loynient for Bentlcy's powers. With him, — Greek and Latin were intended For nothing else but to be mended. — as Butler says of puritanic religion. His critical skill was like those detergent acids, which are excellent for removing stains, when s\ich exist, but if applied needlessly, are apt to eat holes. It was not his humoui* to let well alone. poverty, which compelled him to hurry his works into the world scarcely half made up. It was his object, as soon as he could scrape together £600, to purchase a life annuity. For this he toiled, and dedicated, and besought the interest of Bentley ; and, by his advice, ofltrcd his Aristophanes to Monluijtie, Lord Halifax, who hud succeeded to the office of Dorset and Somers, as receiver-general of dedicatory adulation. Kuster is said to have painfully earned the £G0 which was then thought a sufficient remu- neration for such addresses. It must be conceded, that they read rather better in Latin than in English; but we may rejoice that literature is no longer disgraced by such hj'perbolical sycophancy. 1 he annuity was purchased, but the poor scholar had no luck with it. His banker failed, and threw him once more on his resources. He re- visited England, for the double purpose of engaging with booksellers for the publication of Hesjchius, and of obtaining a loan from his friends. This was in 1712. Bishop Moore and others, gave him promises: Bentley, xuuler the deficate form of lending, gave him money, with little chance of repayment. Shortly after, he received a tempting offer from the Abbe Bhjnon, librarian to the King of France. He was invited to reside at Paris, with a pension of 2000 livres, a further appointment as a ^lember of the Academic dcs Iiiscrijilioni', and all the consideration which his learn- ing was sure to command among the French sdi-aiis ; but fur this it was required that he should renounce heresy, or, as the French Abbe probably termed it, Hugonot- ism. Let not protestant indignation outrun christian eharitj', if we relate that a poor book worm shrunk from the slow martjTdom of starvation, or that an English divine continutd to correspond with him aft>:r his apostacy. Whatever he gained by his change of religion, or ratlur say, of communion, he did not long enjoy it; dying suddenly, in 171(>, of a strange disorder, which modern physicians attributed to intense application, in an unhealthy attitude. Time was, when it would have been luscribed to supernatural vengeance. A cake of sand wxs found in his lower abdo- minal region. His apostacy, however, can scarce have exposed him to the wrath of Pope, who ue\erth.less has insulted his memorv- in the Dunchid. Pope found it easier to translate Greek, thau to construe it. 92 DR. RICHx\RD BENTLEY. Dr. ]\Ioiik roirn'ts tliut liis here* did not devote himself to Greek rutlier than to Latin editorship; but may we not ask, were there no objects to whicli such powers and such ac(piircments might have been applied, more important than disputed readings, dislocated sentences, points misi)laced, and accents turned the wrong way? IMight not the kno\\-lcdge which convicted Phalaris of forgery, by such extensive collection, and skilful collation, of evidence, have tluv.wn clear daylight on the obscure of ancient history— have elucidated the (;rigiu, the genealogy, and the kindred of nations — have shown how the growth and revolutions of language illustrate the growth and changes of society? Or, could he not have expounded the principles of Greek and of Roman speech by the laws of universal logic, and raised Philology to Philosophy ? — But let us return to our narrative. The year 1702 was marked by the death of Groevius, a venerable scholar, whose admiration of Bentley was almost idolatrous. During the first five years of his mastersliip, the Doctor made several innovations in college discipline, some of which, though reluctantly received at first, are still maintained Avith advantage. He improved the system of examinations for fellow^ships and scholarships, and abolished the truly electioneering custom which obliged the candidates to keep open hospitality at a tavern during the four days. He extended the penalty of three-half-pence, for absence from chapel, which had been exacted from under-graduates only, to the lower half of the sixty fellows. He altered the hour of the Saturday evening Latin decla- mations, much to the scandal of some of the seniors, and decreed that the head lecturer, and four sub-lecturers, should be fined eight pence and four ])ence respectively, according to statute, if they neglected to lecture and examine daily in the hall. Another, and very unpopular exertion of his authority, certainly, seemed to reflect on the Fellows in a very tender concern. A pecuniary mulct was appointed by statute on any person leaving table before grace. Now the Fellows, iwt relishing the surveillance of a number of impatient youths uple prerogative, annulled, and gave free permission to depart before grace, Avithout punishment ; alleging, as his ground, " the unreasonable delays at meals, at some of the Fellows' tables." — After a feast comes a fast. There had been no supper alloMcd in hall on Friday. Bentley, overruling the scruples of the suj)erstitious, ordered that there should be a llesh-supj)er in hall on that day, in order to prevent the youths from satisfying their a})petites in more exception- OR. RICHARD UENTLKV. 93 .'il)lo ])laccs. lie also dldij^od the Nobloinoii ami Fcllow-Coninifniers to attt'iul cliapflj and pcrtMriu cullcge exercises, as well as the other students. In all this, there was nothing objectionable; but Bentley carried all m itli a high hand, scarcely deigning to consult the eight seniors, his statutable advisers. lie also took uj)on himself to expel a niendjcr of the college, wlio had been twice «letected by the proctor at a house of ill-fame, and sundry times at a dissenting meeting-house. In dismissing a proHigate hypocrite, the master would surely have met with the support of his fellows; but there was an informality in tlie manner of doing it, which hereafter fiirnislied matter of complaint. IMeanwhile, a question was discussing, wliich, though of little public interest, concerned the college deeply. It Mas disjmted, whether abso- lute seniority c<»idd take jdace of seniority < if degree; — whether, for instance, a INIastcr of Arts, ranking 50 in the list of F'ellows, shoxdd have preoption of chambers or livings, over a ]3octor of Divinit)- rank- ing only 49. Bentley generally contended for priority of degree ; alleging, that the disuse of divinity degrees had caused a neglect of study in the college. And most true it is, that when a man is once Fellow, though he has all the ojiportunities in the world for actpiiring learning, he has no further incentive. As far as the University is concerned, he has attained his uUimaium: no subsequent examination displays his maturer accjuirements — elicits how much he may ha\e acquired, or exposes how much he may have forgotten. In Bentley's reign, the prejjaratorj'^ exercises for a Doctor's degree were not abs(»- lutely formal. They showed at least that the candidate could still speak Latin. As to the matter of the theses and disputations, as ortlu»doxy only allowed one conclusion, and one decision, it never could be much varied. The battle was sold, and who cares how scientific the sparring might be ? But Bentley wished that the Fellows of Trinity should graduate in the higher faculties, /. c. hnv, ]thysic, and divinity; and certaiidy, the words of the statute do, in our disinterested opinion, clearly define the highest graduate, n((t the senior member, as having the right (tf preoi)tion. It is a j)ity that college statutes arc not Mritten in English, or Latin, or some other intelligible language. At present, they are in a lingo that never was spoken on earth, and w Inch can only be justified on the principles of those enthusiasts, who think a language clearly divine, because it was never hinnan. Bentlev seems to have entered on his government with the worst of all possible disqualifications — a contempt for those mIioiu he Mas called to govern. Not content Mith a hiM less sMay, he accompanied every exertion of his prerogative m ith Mauton insult, and made the college 94 DR. RICHARD BENTLEY. books the standing records of his overbearing antipathy. Bisliop Racket, a confessor of ei)iscopacy during the Commonwealth, retaining in his lionourcd age an honourable affection for the place of his youthful studies, had, in 1667, given twelve hundred pounds to rebuild that ruinous fiibric entitled Garret's Hostel, with a proviso, that the rents of the chambers therein should for ever be appropriated to the improve- ment of the library. The new library being completed at an expense of eighteen thousand pounds, something was still requisite, to furnish it ^vith desks, bookicases, and other a])purtenances, and the college resolved that the money advanced for this purpose should be repaid out of the rents of the Bishop's chambers. This arrangement, though not inconsistent with the statutes, and a])proved by the bishop's executor, did not please the master. He insisted that all the sums so applied, amounting to about £50 a year, had been " intervented;" insisted that they should be restored, and devoted to the purchase of books ; with an assertion, " that the college had been robbing the library, and putting the money in their own pockets." Truly, he treated his subjects like worms, and forgot that a worm will turn if you tread upon it. This is said to have given cause to the first misunderstanding between Bentley and the seniority. In demanding the restitution, he might be self- jiistified ; l)ut the reproach was gratuitous. Whenever a head is to be appointed to a society of christian gentlemen, the first question to be asked should be,— is he a christian ? the second,— is he a gentleman ? A spontaneous insulter is neither. So passed the first five years of Bentley's mastership. Meanwhile, King William, whose merits as a deliverer were soon forgotten when it was found that a parliamentary king was rather more expensive than a jure divino monarch, had died, and Queen Anne, deservedly the favourite of the clergy, and of the Universities, succeeded to the undi- vided allegiance of a then loyal people. She had already gladded Oxford with her presence, and in 1705, she conceded to Cambridge the costly honour of a royal visitation. A royal visit to a University, is, or might be called, dunce's holiday, for then degrees are conferred on all whom royalty appoints, without the statutable qualifications and fxercises. Upon this occasion Newton knelt down, plain mister, and arose Sir Isaac. It is the glory of knighthood that such a man deigned to accept it, but it must have been a whimsical spectacle to see a woman holding a sword in an assembly of parsons, to bestow upon a man of j)eacc, an order essentially military. About this time, Parliament piu-chased the library of Sm Robert Cotton, a useful collector, whose name is connected Mith some of the rarest treasures of literature. Bentley, as royal librarian, was entrusted DR. RICHARD BENTLEV. [).'> witli tliis M-clconic charge. Apartments were fitted up for liiiii in Cotton House. He spent a considerable jjart of every year in town, where his talents obtained admission to the highest circles, and his advancement to the bench was regarded as certain; and certain it might have been, had he possessed tlie requisite pliancy of temper, for in no age, was mere talent of whatever kind, at so liigh a premium. When we recollect that nothing but the conscientious scruples of Queen Anne lierself, (and blessed be her memory therefore,) pre\entcd Sirif'f from being a bishoj), we might almost wonder that the first scholar in Europe, a chosen and successful chamj)ion of religion, and a peculiar favoiu-ite of the pious Queen, M-as not, while his laurels were yet unmildewcd, advanced to the top of his profession. Perhaps the richer sees were all bespoken, two or three deej), and Bentley preferred a Mealthy certainty, which incurred little expense, to the higher dignity of a poor bisl)opric, entailing an enlarged expenditure, and the misery of hope deferred. At a later period, 17^'Jj he was a candidate for the see of Chichester, but the change of ministry gave it to Dk. John Robinson, mIio afterwards figured as plenipotentiary at the treaty of Utrecht. Perhaps the odium, justly or unjustly, attached to that negociation, made liim tlic last ecclesiastic M-hom the English government have employed in diplo- macy. Yet later, Bentley refused the poor bishopric of Bristol, and on l)eing asked " What sort of preferment he w ould desire ?" answered, " that which could leave me no wish to change." That the character of our subject was still accounted stainless in the great world, is evinced by the fact, that persons of rank and rejmtation were anxious to ])lace their children under his immediate care. During the year 1707, Ecbvard Viscount ninchinbrooke. Lord Kingston and his brother, and Sir Charles Kemys, were his private pupils, and inmates of the lodge. For the head of a college to take pupils is a thing now scarcely known, and perhaps never usual. Probably the Fellows felt quite as much aggrieved at the injury done to them- selves, as at the degradation of the blaster's dignity. The tutorship of a noble youth is generally the first step in the ladder of preferment ; a good thing in hand, (for such as possess the necessary assiduity and su])])leness,) and a bill upon the futin-e which seldom fails to be honoured. It is not M'onderful, therefore, that the fellows of Trinity murnuu-ed at the expense incurred on account of the INIaster's pupils. What they had to pay was probably a trifie, but what they lost in expectation, (and every college tutor wovdd set down to his own creditor account, the whole possible gain of each titled or honourable pupil, even to the contingency of a mitre, as sure and personal loss,) was as large as their hopes or their wishes. At all events, this measure of 90 t>li. rvlCIIAIlD BENTLEY. Bentley's excited iinicli clamour. It would shock a mother of the pre- sent Milter-drinking day, to be informed that the residence of those young gentlemen in the lodge occasioned an alarming increase in the consumption of college ale. That it interrupted the progress of Bentley's Horace, Mas not half so annoying to the seniority. To be serious, — the money part of this business strongly illustrates the absurdity of adhering to ancient usages, vhen the circumstances that save rise to them are chana-ed. When colleges Avere first founded, the master of each M'as pres\nned, indeed necessitated, to ])e a bachelor. Provisions were cliea]), money Mas scarce. It was therefore an obvious convenience to sui>i)ly him M'ith necessaries from the college stock in kind, especially as liis attendants were supposed to be poor scholars, who might almost literally subsist on the crumbs tliat fell from his table. A married master, with hungry children, and a train of beer- bibbing hirelings, Mas not even contemplated in hope, as a single seed of time. Every thing aliout a college savours of celibacy. For the accidents of married life, there is no provision. There are college libraries, kitchens, (noble ones,) cellars, ample and well stocked, gardens, boM'ling-greens, — even in some instances, private theatres, (for the FelloM's of Trinity were obligated, by statute, to present Comedies at certain stated feasts,) but M-hoever heard of a college nursery ? Mhen Mas there a degree taken in midM'ifery ? From these and other causes, complaints against Bentley became louder and louder, and he was openly taxed M'ith greeiliness and mean- ness, in saddling the college Mith the support of his own boarders, Mith whom he received not more than £200 a year. He attempted to silence all murmurs by extolling the honour done to the society by these young patricians (mImcIi honour, by the May, he pretty well monopolised himself), and by referring to three sash Avindows Avhich he had put into their apartments at his OMn expense ! Verily, it is heart- sickening to find a man, M'hom one would fain venerate, engaged in such squabbles, and Avorse still, to find him so often in the Avrong, Still, hoAvever, the feuds of Trinity College wei'e confined Avithin its own AvaUs j and Bentley Avas kuoAvn to the Avorld only as a scholar, and a ]iatron of scholars. His fame Avas Eurfipean. Veteran ])lodders either veiled their eyes in adoration, or confessed, by imp(»tcnt detraction, their sense of his superiority. It can hardly lie said that he bore his faculties meekly: yet, in the literary Avorld, if he used his giant's strength like a giant, it was like a good-natured giant. To the weak, he Avas merciful ; and to the young, as one that chasteneth AA'hom he loveth. He Avas rude, not malicious : he gnnvled, and shook his mane, and sometimes gaAe an ugly bite, but he never stung. He left his DR. RICHARD P.ENTLEY. 97 enemy crest-fallen, but not lieart-hmkeii. An instance of liis ronj^fi way of (Ioin nearly three j'ears after his original commimication, and when the Julius Pollux had been some time before the jiublic. The gratitude of the youthful editor, and his fears lest the involuntary delay of his acknowledgments should be ascribed to disrespect, were very affecting. Bentley, who saw immedi- ately the strength and the weakness of his disciple, promptly relieved liim from his a])prehension of having offended, and fairly complimented his diligence and learning, but at the same time, made him so keenly sensible of his deficiency in the rca metrica, (where after all, the youth only part(»ok of the general ignorance of continental scholars,) and so completely upset his supposed emendations of the fragments, that the aspirant M-as a])solutely disheartened, and thought for a time of relin- quishing classical pursuits altogether. But he thought better of it, and { lived to acquire a rank in criticism, second only to Bentley 's own; and, » what was far more to his honoin*, remenilR>red the exj)0sure of his youthful errors with gratitude, and often related the anecdote to his pupils, when he would impress upon them how much they had to learn. Hemsterhuis kept Bentley '& two Epistles till his death, when they were N 98 T)R. RICHARD BENTLEY. jmblislied hy David Ridiiikeu, his pupil and admirer. There have been men, whd woidd liave burned them. Bentley, at this period, corresponded with many of the most learned men in Europe, and received from them all that homage which his Avide spreading reputation demanded. From one of these letters it appears that, in 1708, his candlelight studies had injured his sight, which was restored by an application of the insects called multipedae. To this benefit he pleasantly alludes, in two Latin elegiac couplets : — Quod liceat Veli doctas mihi volvere chartas Ponitur ha;c vobis, gratia Multipeda; At vobis maneat crebris, prccor, imbribus uda Subquo cavo quercus cortice tiita domiis. That learn'd Deveil's deep page I may peruse, Ye things of many foet, to you I owe, Moist be your darkling cells, with frequent dews And safely snug, the rough oak's rind below. The cure of which the things of many feet obtained the credit, was so effectual, that to his remotest old age, Bentley's sight remained unim- paired, notwithstanding the intense exertion of his eyes in reading small type, and decyphering scarce legible manuscripts. However regardless of the feelings and purses of the then population of Trinity, Bcntley was indefatigable in promoting the glory and "wel- fare of the college as a state. In one year, (I7O6,) he laid the founda- tion of an observatory, and of a chemical laboratory. The first was destined to assist the observations of Roger Cotes, first Plumian Pro- fessor of Astronomy, of whom, after his early decease, Newton said, " If Cotes had lived, we should have had something." The laboratory was devoted to the researches of the Veronese Vigani, an ingenious foreigner, who cultivated a science but just beginning to deliver itself from the avaricious quackery of the alchemists. Vigani may be called the first Cambridge Lecturer on Chemistry ; and no successor was appointed for some years after his death. It was Bentley's design to make his col- lege the focus of all the science and information in the kingdom ; and, to make it an edifice worthy of the learning he wished it to contain. But even the most obvious improvements were regarded m ith an eye of suspicion ; and his taste for architectore, which he gratified unscrupu- lously at the college expense, incurred great and not altogether unfounded odium. His own lodge he had repaired, or rather re-edified, at a cost originally calculated at £200, but which amounted to some- where about £1000, exclusive of a new stair-case, which he erected in defiance of the direct refusal of the Bursar, (the academic chancellor of the exchequer,) and unsanctioned by the Seniors. For this stair-case,. \)K. Kl( ll.\i;i) Bl-NTLKV. 1^0 the Fellows absolutely deiiit-d jciynicnt. But Bcntley had, as lie expressed it, " a rusty sword, wlicrewitli lie subdued all opposition." This Mas an (»bsolete statute, comitelling the whole l)ody of Fellows to almost perpetual residence. Were all corporations invested with a power to accommodate their institutes to ever-changing circumstjuices, and did they make a wise and provident use of that power, law would not so often l)e the power of inicpiity. By the terrors of the " rusty sword," and other threats of a like nature, the autticrat of Trinity at length enforced the discharge of a debt of £350, incurred against the consent of those wlio had to pay it. Nor were the stretches of his authority conrtned to matters of finance. In the distribution of honours, offices, and preferments ; in the infliction of penalties, even to confiscation and exile, (so far as he could intiict them,) he was equally arbitrary. Whoever opposed him was certain to be excluded from every reward of merit, and to receive something more than justice for the first alleged offence. That his severer measures were absolutely and substantially unjust is by no means clear ; but he proceeded to extre- mities M ithout either consulting his legal assessors, or even waiting for legally convicting evidence. Of two Fellows, whom he expelled in I7O8, the guilt admits of little doubt, for one of them, John Wyvil, confessed to the fact of purloining and melting down the college plate ; the other, John Durant Breval, hereafter designed to figure along with Beiitley himself in the Dunciad, was more than suspected of what (christian) men call adultery, and (heathen) Gods, a platonic friendship for a married lady. But they were both punished unconstitutionally, by the Master's sole prerogative, and their offences were forgotten in the danger of liberty. We cannot, therefore, be surprised that Bcntley met with opposition, or faint support, even when he stepped forward as the enlightened patron of learning, and of learned men; that schemes really magni- ficent, such as his renovation of the chai)el, were cited as fresh instances of rapacity, — that innovations, which might be improvements, M-erc only regarded as precedents of oppression, — and that the Fello\js of Trinity only waited for a tangible pretext, and a bold leader, to throw off that allegiance which they conceived to be forfeited by lawless tyranny. The pretext occurred, in Bentley's project for a new division (»f the college funds. The leader appeared in the person of 3Iiller,H- RICHARD BENTLEV. answer, especially his tyrannical interference Mitli all college appoint- ments and elections, and liis reckless expenditure of the college funds, Prudence and delicacy would have recommended a private reference to the Visitor as arl»itrator ; but the passions of the parties were too much excited for prudejice, and to delicacy none of them seem to have had the slightest claim. The articles were published under the form of a pamphlet, and Bentley replied in a printed address to the Bishop, whose jin-isdiction he nevertheless denied, a composition of more acerbity than elegance, containing more recrimination than explanation, and throwing the onus of the quarrel on the sottish habits and Jacobite politics of his oppugners. In his ])olitical allusions, Bentley made what is vulgarly called a bad shot. The people were tired of the Whigs, sick of a war in which, according to the invariable custom of England, they gained nothing but debt and glory, and perhaps secretly pining for the restoration ot the exiled family, from which the worst men expected the reward of secret adherence, and the best, the blessing of God on a fearless act of justice. In this humoxu- of the pviblic, Sacheverel became the idol of the mob for doctrines which in these days M^ould have exposed his barns to arson and his life to violence. He was, like most mob orators, a man of middling character and mediocre talents, thrust forward by the high church party as a tool, whose proceedings they might acknowledge or deny, according to their success. His sermons, which are utterly worthless, were not supposed to be his own composition, and his defence, which was masterly, is known to have been the production of Atterbury, assisted by Smalridge and other of Bentley's Christ Church adversaries. The popular ferment attending his ill-judged prosecution, coincided with the Queen's personal bias towards the Tories, and the machina- tions of Mrs. Mashani, a new favourite, Avho is said to have resented some personal slight of the haughty Duchess of Marlborough, that great but unhappy Avoman, so admirably described by Pope under the name of Atossa, to oust the Whig ministry. But what Bentley lost by the defeat of his nominal party, was more than supplied by the influence of his wife, who was connected both with Mr. Masham, the favourite's husband, and with St. John, the new secretary of state, and afterwards Lord Bolingbroke, no very creditable patron for a divine, but wlio had talents enough to know that the name of Bentley looked well on the ministerial list. Now it happened, that some of Bentley's accusers were full as mu(;h addicted to Venus and Bacchus as to Minerva. The Doctor had not scrupled to assert, that the poverty which the Fellows of Trinity ascribed to his exactions, was wholly owing to the additional tax on claret; and his lady did not fail to take the UK. ItlCHAKI) BENTLFA'. lOli advantage wliidi a female reigii always affurds to scuiulal in tlie guise of ninnility. But tlie main manager in the matter Mas Ilariey, the Lord-treasurer, a circuitous tine gentleman, to whom Bentley addressed a projet of a royal letter, in which every point was decided in his own favour, and the blaster enjt»ined " to chastise all licence among the Fellows." But such downright dealing did not accord with the views of the wily politician. It is uncertain whether this hold stroke came to the ears of the enemy, but certain it is, that on the twenty-first of November, Bentley received a ])ercmptnry summons to answer the articles against him by the eighteenth of Deccndjer. Bentley, being thus at bay, at Hrst thought of appealing to Convoca- tion : but, finding that he was likely to be anticipated in that quarter, and j)erhaps expecting little favour from his brethren of the clergy, he resolved on a petition to the Queen, setting forth, that her IMajesty, as representative of the royal founder, Mas the rightful \'^isitor, and that the assumption of the visitatorial functions by a subject Mas an invasion of her j)rerogative ; finally throM ing himself and his cause on her Majesty's protection. This petition met Mith inniiediate attention. Mr. Secretary St. John directed the Attorney and Solicitor General to examine the allegations on both sides, and make a report thereon Mith all convenient speed. At the same time the Attorney General Mas to signify to the Bishop of Ely her Blajesty's pleasine, that all proceed- ings be staid till the question shoidd be decided in M'hom the right of visitation lay. Bishoj) ^loore, in his reply, expressed a cheerful acqui- escence aud confidence that her Majesty Mould never deprive him of any right belonging to his see. The second of January, 1710 — 11, Mas appointed for hearing of the cause. Sir Peter King, afterwards Lord Chancellor, and ]\Ir. IMiller, appeared as counsel for the FelloMS. No less than five months elapsed before the hnv officers coidd make their report to Government. This document, M'hich Dr. JMonk has given at length in the appendix, contains a full and impartial statement of the facts of the case, and delivers a cautious opinion on the point at issue — to M-it, that, Mhether the statutes of EdMard the Sixth were or were not virtually abrogated by those of Elizabeth, the Miusfer is, by either code, subject to the jiu'isdiction of the Bishop of Ely ; leaving to her jNIajesty and to Dr. Bentley the course of moving for a ])roliibition in a coxn-t of hiM', if either thought fit to contest this oj)inioM. This decision Mas far from i)leasing to Bentley, mIio wanted not the expensive privilege of litigation, and that, too, in face of the highest legal authority, but a direct interposition of the crown in his own favour. He therefore determined to address the Prime Minister, Harley, mIio was then just recovering from the womid inflicted on him b\ the French 104 DR- RICHARD BENTLEY. assassin, Guiscanl, and had been created Earl of Oxford^ and Lord Iligli Treasurer. This application was severely censured, as a desertion of the Whigs, in whose lists the Doctor's name had hitherto, for fashion's sake, been borne, though he was never a very devoted or factious politician, and seldom alluded to public matters at all, except in order to throw suspicion upon his enemies. As the memorial is artful and characteristic, we shall give a few extracts from it : — Cotton House, July 12, I7II. Right Honourable, After my hearty thanks to God for the Monderful preservation of your most valuable life from the stabs of an assassin,- and my sincere congratulation of your new station of honour, so long and so well deserved ; I humbly crave leave to acquaint your Lordship, that at last I have received from IMr. Attorney General the report, sealed up and directed to Mr. Secretary St. John, a copy of which is here inclosed. Yoiir Lordship, when you read it, will please to observe, that all the facts alleged in my petition are here confirmed : — that the statute of Edward, Avhich once constituted the Bishop of Ely visitor, was rejected and left out in the two later bodies of statutes, those of Philip and IMary, and those of Elizabeth, now only in force ; that the crown has, for a centuiy and a half, been in sole possession of the visitatorial power ; — that no Bishop of Ely, all that while, ever heard af his being Visitor, or ever once pretended to act as such, till this present Bishop : and as for the 40th statute of Elizabeth, which obiter and incidentally styles the Bishop of Ely Visitator, ray counsel largely proved — first, that it was ipso facto void ; and secondly, that, supposing it to be now in force, it Mas in the power of the crown to vacate it at pleasure. It is clear, that if her Majesty will maintain her prerogative, it is but saying the words, and vacating the 40th statute : on the contrary, if she will abandon it to the Bishop, she may give him a new corrobo- rating statute, if this be too weak. However, to give more satisfaction about both the points in question, I have permission to inclose the opinion of the learned Sir Nathaniel Lloyd, her Majesty's Advocate General, and Vice Chancellor of Cambridge; which he is ready, if occasion ivere, to maintain in a public manner, by report or by pleading. He, indeed, humbly conceives, that even Mr. Attorney's present report is sufficient for her Majesty's prerogative, though the former point be M'aivcd ; and it is so much the more so, by what I have- heard last post, that those Fellows — tlie minor part of the whole society — that are complainers against me, have subscribed a petition to her Majesty, that she will please to take this matter into her own hands. My Lord, I very readily close with this, and desire nothing more, than that her i)i;. i;i( iiAKi) I'.r.NTi.F.v. 10.5 JMajcsty would send dicto Visitatore legitime convic- tus fuerit sine mora per euudem Vice Magistrum Officio Magistri privetur: neque ullam ei Appellationem aut ullum aliud Juris remedium permittimus : sed quajcun que in hac causa tentaverit irrita esse volumus, et decernimus ipso facto. (Translation.) Chapter 40. — Of the removal of the Master, if need require. Whereas, if the head be disordered, the whole body and its members must be aiHicted together; therefore we order and appoint, that if the Master be found very negligent or remiss in the discharge of his office, or be suspected of ill life, or inconti- nency, let him be rebuked with all moderation and gentleness, by the Vice Ma.ster and seven seniors, on whose conscience we charge this matter, as they shall an.swer the same before the Lord Jesus; and if, being thus admonished, he amend not, let him be rebuked a second time in the same manner : but if neither then he be brought to consideration, the Vice Chancellor and senior Fellows, or the majority' thereof, shall lay the whole matter before the Visitor, the Bishop of Ely, for the time being; who shall diligently examine and equitably decide the same. By whose sentence it is our will that the Master do abide absolutely, and without any appeal, under penaltj' of perpetual forfeiture of his office. Furthermore, if the Master aforesaid, being at any time examined before the afore- said Visitor, and by the aforesaid Visitor lawfully convicted of heresy, high treason, simony, usurj', perjury in the presence of a judge, notorious theft, wilful murder, incest, fornication, adulterj', dilapidation of the college estate, or violation of its statutes, or, in fine, of any other the like notorious crime — let him be, without delay, by the aforesaid Vice Master, deprived of his office : nor do we permit him any appeal, or other remedy at law; and whatsoever he may essay iu this sort, v.v. will to be mill and void, and so we do, ipso facto, declare it to be. DR. i;|( ||.\|;|) |;|.Nri.i;V. I(»7 power was moaut to be resumed 1)\ the crt»\Mi ; ami tliat the words casually referring to the Bishoj) of Ely, More carelessly transcribed from King Edward's cartularies. But that Queen Elizal)eth meant herself and her successors to visit the college at large, and to devolve upon his reverend Lordshij) of Ely the task of castigating the iMaster, is a supj)osition mImcIi neither good sense nor tlie plain laws of interjjretation can admit. Still, there the statute was, and the easiest way would ai)pear to have been, either to contirm or abrogate, by order in council, or (if needful) by act of Parliament, according to Bentley's suggestion. As liowever, tlie Bishop was acknowledged by tlie legal authorities on all hands to have jurisdiction in the present question, it was generally ])elieved that the prohil)ition would be taken off, and that the long .sus])cnded cause would ])roceed. Still the interdict continued, and it was long supposed that the ^Master owed this respite to the goctd oHices of his wife with Lady jMasham and St. John. But certain letters of Lord Oxford's collection, give a different colour to the affair. The Treasurer had, in fact, been holding communications with both parties, had given to each a hope of his coiuitcnance. Whether straight forward measures were so alien to his hal)its, that he was necessitated to play false, even when he had no personal stake in the game, or whe- ther he Mas really mcII disposed towards Bentlcy, and wished to keep his alleged misdemeanors from j)ublic exposure, till an (»j)p()rtuuity slioidd occur of removing him to some less obnoxious station of dignity, certainly it was his advice, perhaps his sincere and judicious advice, that both ])arties should submit their differences to the arbitration of the crown. Probal)ly he suffered the Fellows to conclude that they would speedily be delivered from the burden of an luijjopular head. Reports were circulated that Bentley \vas actually ap])ointed to the Deanery of Litchfield. ■ * The romour of this appointment had reached the eai-s of Kuster, who meutions it ill two Utters to his true brother in the muses, with no small exultation. We sub- join the following extract, both to shew how a German scholar can write Knglish.aud to prove that Greek does not absolutely annihilate the grateful affections: — "Aug. o, 1712. P.S. After I had written this letter, which I kept from one post day to another, waiting for Mr. Hemsterhuis's letter to be inclosed in myne, there came to see me some English gentlemen, and amongst them one of your college, Nomine Town, a physician, (qui magni te facit,) who brought me the good news that you were made Dean of Litchfield. Ego plane erectns fui lioc nuncio ; and afterwards I drank first your health, and aftei-wards, upon the conlinnation of this news. I can assure you, sir, that I shall long heartily to have the confirmation of this from you, because nobody of your friends can take more part in yonr ]>ros])irily than I do, having found that 1 have no truer friend than you. -Mr. Hemsterhuis's desseins to write this same day, Vale." Again, in a latin epistle, " graUdor tibi ex auimo de lOB I>R- RICHARD RENTLEY. This however proved unfounded. It might have been a hazardous ex[)orimcnt to bestow conspicuous favour on a man against whom sudi discredital)le diarges were pending. Conciliation and procrastination were tlie ruling principles of Harley, and doubtless he Avished Bentley, at least to make a shew of concession. But this was wliat the Doctof would not do. The only Jipproach he ever made to pacification, was by detachintj some few of his adversaries from the common cause. Divide et impera, a politic maxim, of which even the worldly expediency is very doul)tful when applied to large communities, is an effectual rule for maintaining supremacy in small factious republics, as the history of the Italian cities too often evinces, and Bentley made the most of it in Trinity College. But finding this method too slow for his impatience, he determined to starA-e the combinators to a surrender, and to shew the FelloMs, that if they were not content to receive what he chose, in such proportion as he chose, and allow him to ai)propriate as much as he chose, they should have nothing at all. Having manoeuvred poor old Stubbe, the senfer of his opponents, out of the Vice-mastership, and put a more manage- able person in his place, he proceeded, at the winter audit, 1712-13, to interdict a dividend, unless his plan of distribution was accepted. Thus Avrites the aged Ex-Vice-master to the Earl of Oxford : — " Dr. Bentle}', I hear, at the auditing of our college accounts, refused to vote a divi- dend of the remaining money, in order to starve the poor members into an acquiescence under his base and unworthy measures. Our College, my Lord, though it be dutiful and silent, is in a very wretched condi- tion ; and if your Lordship please to look upon it with compassion, you will be a second fmuider to us. ]\Iy Lord, I cannot ask pardon for this without rcniend)ering my former offences of this nature; Inxt I cannot doubt cither of your Lordship's pardon, or of the success of my petition, when I consider that I speak for a nursery of learning to my Lord of Oxford." Whether Harley, who prided himself in the reputation of a INIacsenas, was touched with compassion, or cajoled by flattery, to inter- est himself for the starving Fellows, or whether he only prescribed patience, a cruel prescri])tion to the hungry, wc know not. Certainly Bentley's expectations of submission from his 0])ponents, and of pro- tracted interpositi(Mi from the minister, were disappointed. IMiller woidd be put off no longer, and resolved to bring the matter before tlie Court of Queen's Bench. Stubbe ' apprised the Treasiu-er that all nova hac digaitate, et gandeo eo magis, (juo inagis id iiiiinicis tui.s doliturum esse novi." This shews that Bentley's litigations were heard of over the channel. * Stubbe must at one time have stood high in Bentley's good graees, for his nephew- had, through the Master'^ iulliienee, been pre eleeted to a Fellowship, coalrarj- tocus- DH. rilCH.Ua) r.KNTLEV. KK) endeavours to provent the c.uisi' lomin^ to ;i licarini; \rnul(l probaldy be vain, as the court would not allow the validity of tlie royal, or in gof^l sooth, ministerial prohibition, while the discussion of a point of preroga- tive could do little good to a tottering administration : whicli argument, M-hcther urged by the Ex-Vicc-Master or not, determined the ministry to take off the ('nil)arg(», and Secretary St. John, now Lord Bolingbroke, wrote to Bisho]) ^loore, "giving him the Queen's permission to pro- ceed ;is far as l)y law lie was empowered." Befin-e tlie end of the Ea.ster Term, 171'^> the affair of Trinity College was first brouglit into court, by IMr. Page* obtaining a Rule for the Bishop to slicw cause wliy a IMandamus sliould not issue to compel him to discharge his judicial functions. After a full year's dehiy, arising ])artly from forms of law, of which delay apj>ears to be the only assignable object, and partly from the avocations of the judges, and the disturlx?d state of the nation, in the month of IMay, 1714, the trial of Bentley actually commenced. The large hall of Ely House was converted into a Court of Justice ; tDiii, and without the claim of merit, being a \vorthle.>s and profligate yoiinf; man, whom JJentley himself aftei-wards declared " the worst man that ever entered a col- lege." Whiston, who antedates the proceeding three years, alludes to this as Bent- ley's first deviation from rectitude, and asserts that the Master himself allowed that in this case he departed from the nile — Deter Digniore. It is also said that this l",dnuind Stublie was to marry a niece of Bentley's, in which case, his uncle's fortune, not less than £10,000, was to have been settled on the young couple. We can scarce suppose, if this be true, that young Stubbe's vices were then notorious, though it sometimes will happen, that those who have the disposal of young ladies are as blind to the faults of a wealthy suitor, as the young ladies themselves to the defects of a handsome lover. This is not the only occasion on which Bentley has been accused of iiKitcb making. He was said to have bestowed some small preferment on a young B. A., on condition that he should marrj- Mrs. Bentley's maid. This wa.s proba blv an unfounded surmise; but the condition of the working clergy was then so depressed, and attendance on the higher classes so nuich esteemed, that the marriage of a small vicar with a lady's maid would uot be accounted a mis- alliance, and happy was the poor curate who could obtain for his daughter the enviable situation of Mi-s. Honour. For some curious particulars on this head, cousult "Echard on tlu Contempt of the Clergy and of Religion, 1670." Parson Adams is no exaggera- tion. ♦This Page was afterwards a .Fudge of "hanging" notoriety, whom Pope has damu'd to everlasting fame." "Poison, or slander dread, from Delia's rage; — Hard words, or hanging, if your judge be page." Imitations of IIokace. "And dies if Dulness gives her Page the word." Dlxciad. In Johnson's Life of Savage, some specimens of this man's eloipicnce are preserved. Let us rejoice that the dynasty of the Pages is at an end. ]l(t DR. RICHARD BKNTLEV. M'licre Mritton c\ ideuce was producod in support and refutation of the 54 articles against the IMastcr of Trinity College. The counsel for the prosecution were. Sir Peter King, (is opposition to Cliurch dignitaries hereditary in his family.?) Sir John Cheshyre, JMr. Serjeant Page, Dr. Paul, the civilian^ and Edmund Miller, who probably pleaded witli more sincerity on this occasion than advocates generally obtain credit for, and a mastery of the facts and bearings of the case, wliich few advo- cates have the means of acquiring. Bentley's* counsel were, the Hon, Spencer Compton (afterwards Speaker, and Earl of Wilmington), Mr. Lutwych, and Dr. Andrews, the civilian. Bishop Moore had chosen as his Assessors, Lord Cowper, the Ex-Chancellor, and Dr. Newton, an eminent civilian. Thoiigh the principal grounds of complaint have been already related in the order of their occiu'rence, it may promote perspicuity if the im- portant heads of the 54 articles be gone over, premising that, being in an interrogatory form, they read sometimes rather ludicrously. As e. g., conceive the follo\ving questions put by a learned Judge or Reve- rend Bishop, to a Doctor of Divinity, a pTiblic guardian of the morals, manners, and orthodoxy of ingenuous youth ? — 32. " Why did you use scurrilous words and language to several of the Fellows, particularly by calling j\Ir. Eden an ass, and ]\Ir. Rashleigh the college dog ; by telling iMr, Cock he would die in his shoes, and calling many others fools, and sots, and other scurrilous names ? " Or, 43, " Why did you profanely and blasphemously use and apply several expressions in the Scripture ? As, ' He that honours me, him will I honour :' ' I set life or death before you, choose you whether,' or to that effect." Or, 12, " When l)y false and base practices, as by threatening to bring letters from court, visitations, and the like, and at other times by boasting of your great interest and acquaintance, and that you were the genius of the age, . . why, &c. ?" Or, 10, " Why have you, for many years j)ast, A\asted the college bread, ale, beer, coals, wood, turf, sedge, char- coal, linen, pewter, corn, flour, brawn, and bran, viz. : 40,000 penny loaves, 60,000 half-penny loaves, 14,000 gallons of ale, 20,000 gallons * "lu a loose paper, which I found in the treasury of Trinity College, there is the following account of the performance of four of these gentlemen. The writer seems to be some Fellow who was present at the trial : Spencer Compton. He hath been heard to say afterwards, that he never was so ashamed of any cause in his life. Sir J. Cheshyre. He used Dr. B. veiy much in his own way. Serj. Page. He hummed and hawed, and stumbled, so his clients were very much ashamed of him. Mr. Miller. Was very exact as to dates and quotations, but otherwise very dull and heavy." — Dr. Mviik. I)i;. ItK.IIAHI) HENTLEV. 1 1 ] oI'Imht, (iOO cluddroii oF coals, ()0,0(JU liillots oludod, lOOO husla-ls of turf, J 00 load of st-dge, r>(M) bushel of charcoal, 100 ells of Holland, r)(X) ells of diaper and other linen, 5000 ounces of |)e\vter, 200 Inisliels of corn, 400 Inisliels of Hour, 300 bushels of bran, and otlier goods to the value of C.'JOOO, or other great sum, in exj)ending the same, not only on yourself, but n\H>ii your wife, children, and boarders, and that in a very extravagant manner, by causing your servants to nialie whole meals upon the said college bread and beer only (you not allowing them either flesh, cheese, or butter with the same), and by many otlier ways ?" We j)resume that these counts M-ere nt)t i-ead aloud in Ely House in the presence of tlie accused, as tlie wliole business Mas con- ducted by written affidavits, whereof no less than tMenty-seven were sworn against the blaster, nor does it appear that any one of the com- plainants relented, and declined to support his signature upon oath. The first and second articles refer to the IMaster's appropriation of certain sums, which of right belonged to his predecessor, and to the niisapplicati(tn of the said sums. The third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh, to the expenditure in rebuilding and litting-up the Lodge — which is roundly stated at £1500 — and to the unwarrantable means taken to inforce payment of the same. The seventh goes so far as to charge Bentley Mitli obtaining money luider pretence of paying Mork- men, and diverting it to otlier purposes. The ninth, absurdly enough, asks Dr. Bentley why he married ; ami why. Inn ing married, he brought his wife into college. — It is wonderful tliat some of his prosecutors should hazard a (piestion which might have been retorted with such bitter effect ujxm themselves ; and some- M hat remarkable how unwillingly Queen Elizabeth permitted the mar- riage of the clerg}'. The tenth, thirtieth, thirty-first, and forty-fourth, relate to waste of tlie college goods, and exorbitant demands upon its funds. The twelfth and thirteenth, to the staircase business (a discreditable job altogether). The fourteenth, to the allotment of college chambers — {seems frivolous at this distance of time, but might be very serious at the commence- ment of the last century). The fifteenth, to unlawful interference with the appointment of oflicers, in which the ]\Iaster appears to have been culpable and inconsistent. The seventeenth, eighteenth, nine- teenth, twentieth, twenty-first, twenty-sixth, and twenty-seventh, to punishments inflicted without due conviction, or the consent of the seniority. The twenty-second regards the expulsion of IMiller. The twenty-third, fortieth, and fifty-second, allege certain irregularities and omissions in the chapel service (which, for any spiritual benefit derived from it. mii>ht as well l»e omitted altogether). As for the 11-2 DR. RICHARD BENTLEY. " founder's prayers" Boiitlcy ^vas quite rij^lit in letting tlieni alone ; for they are a mere apology for masses, and where the belief of purgatory does not obtain, have no meaning M'hatever. The forty-third and forty- fourth articles relate to the new scheme of dividends. The thirty- seventh and forty-seventh, to the bowling green, and another i)lot of ground, Mhich Bentley had used according to his pleasure, asserting himself "to be lord of the soil." The tifty-third complains of the observatory ; — otic or two others, of the expense incurred in renovating the chapel, and purchasing an organ; and the rest relate cither to mere repetitions of former offences, or to matters of college regulation, such as Friday's supper, the declamations in chapel, the permission to quit table before grace, and the like. On a dispassionate review of these articles, it appears that they amount to a sort of accumulative treason against the state and liberties of Trinity College. By far the greater part of them are trifling, — yet, altogether, they prove, beyoiid contradiction, that Bentley's views extended to absolute sovereignty — that he deemed himself irresponsible . — ^treated the college estate as if no individual but himself had a free- hold therein — and did not condescend to observe those formalities M hich, by a true college man, are regarded as essential to academic existence. At the commencement of the trial, public opinion was strong in his favour. Admitted on all hands to be the first scholar in his country, a gifted champion of Christianity, connected by friendship or alliance with some of the highest characters of the nation, the man to whom Stillinsrfleet had committed the care of his son, whom Locke, and Evelyn, and Wren, and Newton had called friend, whom Samuel Clark addressed in terms of veneration, and whom the most erudite foreigners regarded as first among the first, he stood opposed to a knot of comparatively obscure men, to answer upon points in which the great world took little interest, before a judge devoted to literature, who had once been his companion. He had also the reputation of court favour ; he had befriended the existing government in an anxious crisis ;■•• he had adorned his alma mater, not only by his own learning, *ln Juue, 1812, a furious attack was made upon the Tory ministry, respecting the pending negociations at Utrecht — the Whigs denouncing them as traitors, who were intriguing with the common enemy to betray the allies, cither in the hope of restoring the Stuarts, or from mere spite and envy at Marlborough's glory. The House of Lords was the scene of contest, and so high did Whiggish expectation soar, that, according to Swift (Journal to Stella), the opposition desired their friends to bespeak places, to see the Lord Treasurer carried to the Tower. Though the Ministers obtained a majority, yet it was especially desirable that every possible expression of DR. KH l[.\l!l) liKNTI.F.V. ]]',i but by tliat w liicli lie imported ; oven liis expensive arcliitecture was, at worst, a niaj^iiiticent (trtenee, \i liicli llic piiltlic nuLjIif ciijoy without paying for it; and, what was no small preposse.ssilished long after the period we speak of — a palpable and professed imitation of Swift's manner — which Dr. Johnson would have called " the echo of an mniatural ficti(»n.""' * " An Account of the State of Learning in the I'-nipiiv of Lilllput, together with Dit. KiciiAi;]) i;i:n ri.i:^'. 11;") Tlie conimoiuonioiit of tlio Horace lias been alreaily nit'iitimiLd. This seems to liave been liis professed eiigageineiit from August, 17*'2, to the History and Character of Bullum, the Emperor's Library Keeper." The passage alhuh'd to is iis Follows : — " Ihilhiiii is a tall raw boned nuui, I bdicve near six inches and a half high. From his infancy he applied himself with great industry to the old Blefuscudian language, in which ho made such a progress, that he almost forgot his native Lilliputian; and at this time he can ueither write nor speak two sentences without a mixture of old Blefuscudian. These qualifications, joined to an undaunted forward spirit, and a few good friends, prevailed with the Emperor's grandfatlKr to make him keeper of his library, and a Mulro in the Gomflastm, though most men thought him fitter to be one of the Royal (iuards. These places soon helped him to riches, and upon the strength of them he soon began to despise every body, and to be despised by every body. This engaged him in many quarrels, which he managed in a very odd manner: whenever he thought himself atlronted, he immediately y/«//^ ««/«-«< ioo/c at his (idversarij, and, if he could, felled him to the earth ; but if his adversary stood his ground, and flung another book at him, which was sometimes done with great violence, then he complained to the Grand .lusticiary, that these aftronts were designed to the Emperor, and that he was singled out only as being the Emperor's servant By this trick he got that great officer to his side, which made his enemies cautious, and him insolent. " Bullum attended the court some years, but could not get into a higher post ; for though he constantly wore the heels of his shoes high or low, as the fashion was, yet having a long back and a stiff neck, he never could, with any dexterity, creep under the stick which the Kmiwror or the chief minister held. As to his dancing on a rope, I shall speak of it presently ; but the great.'st skill in that art will not procure a inau a place at court, without some agility at the stick." Swift never renewed the attack upon Bentley after the "Tale of a Tub," and "The Battle of the Book-." Perhaps he was ashamed of having, in the Phalaris' Contro- versy, taken the wrong, that is to say, the losing side. Perhaps he abstained cau- tiously from whatever might connect him with the " Tale of a Tub," under the impression that, but for that offspring of youthful impnidence, (which, like most of the Dhowncd, is as like its father as his worst enemies could desire,) he might have been au English Bishop instead of an Irish Dean. Those who love not the church, and, alas ! they are too many, and those who amuse themselves w ith experiments upon human nature, may possibly wish that Gulliver had attained a mitre. It would be curious to see what sort of a Bishop a high-churchman, whose Christianity was contempt for Infidels, and whose orthodoxy was hatred of Dissenters, would have made. Vet the Dean had many worse things to answer for than writing the Tale of a Tub. What, however, he would not do himself, he found others to do for liim. Never was literary band so closely united by harmonious dissimilitude as tliat which com- prized Swift, Pope, Gay, Arbuthnot, and Parnell : they were a perfect co-operative society, and might be said, almost without a metaphor, to feel for each other. But Swift thowiht for them all : — his was the informing mind, and exercised over his associates that supremacy which philosophic power, however perverted, will always maintain over mere genius, though .legant as Pope's— over simple erudition, thougii extensive as .Vrbuthnol's. Moreover, wlieiiever a limited niimber of nau form a ll(i DR. RICHARD BfclNTLEY. Dcccniber, 1711 ; but in that interval lie louiul several opportunities of displaying his acquirements, either in assisting friends or ])rovoking enemies. He contributed some highly esteemed emendations to Davies's " Tusculan Questions/' supported l)y able notes, and a body of conjectiu-al alterations to Needham's edition of Hierocles on the golden verses of Pythagoras. It is to be Avished that Bentley had given a critical opinion upon tlie date and real autlior of the Golden Verses themselves. If they could be proved to be of high antiipiity, tliey would form a most valuable dociunent of heathen — we had almost said j)atriarchal — morality. In 1709 he succeeded in procuring a reprint of tlie Principia of his illustrious friend, by engaging Cotes, his own protege, to superintend the publication at the University press. Nearly three hundred letters between Newton and Cotes are preserved in Trinity College. Well may we ask, m ith Dr. IVIonk, Why are they not given to the world ? In this letter-pidjlishing age, when something is really wanting to preserAe epistolary composition from the anathema of disgusted common sense, that these treasures should be withheld, is shameful. Sir Isaac was then detained in town by his office as Master of the IVIint. It is infinitely to Bentley's hoiiour tliat he used his influ- ence to promote learning in branches other than his own ; but in Newton's Principia he had a sort of personal interest, as having been the first to employ their discoveries in the popular defence of religion. In 1710, just after the college quarrel had come to an open rupture, and while disputing the visitorial rights of the Bishop of Ely, he seem- ingly volunteered a literary rencounter with a universal genius, who had impudently ventured on his pecidiar ground. The celebrated John Le Clerc, having written and reviewed himself into a reputation for all sorts of knowledge, except Greek criticism, in an evil lioiu* thought he could "play the lion too," and ventured forth as editor of the Frag- n)ents of Menander and Philemon, thougli his knowledge of Greek is said to have been acquired at a late age, and never to have exceeded the modicum of a "high-school " boy. What could have tempted him to make this display of his insufficiency is hard to guess, as Greek editor- ship is not the stage for versatile audacity to play on. Cleverness, eloquence, variety of attainment, will do nothing. The defect of scho- larship cannot be hid. But in Lc Clerc's youth, critical scholarship can scarce be said to have existed ; and perhaps, like other great men, he was ignorant of the change of times. That precise determination of the rules and licences of the ancient dramatic measures which has league or union, it is ti:n to one that the least amiable will be the most inikieiitial. When, therefore, Pope or Arbuthnot attaek Bentley, we may suspcet tiuit they were little more than Swift's doubles, if th< v did not actually father what he writ DIL Kl( IIAIU) IJENTLEV. 1 I7 guided coiijccture t<» certainty, and eiialjled tlie conimeiitator to discern the just outline of an original j)icture tlirougli successive coatings of false colour, Mas, in the days of Grotius, as little anticipated liy the great readers, as a la« to regulate the wcultations of Jupiter's iSatellites was expected by those antique rustics, who assembled with clang of pots and clash (»f platters to drive away the monster that was smothering the eclipsed moon. ^V'hatever is known (»n this subject, is owing to lientley, for lie Hrst pointed to what Mas wanted, and shewed how it was to be obtained. When Henisterhuis exposed his lack of metrical experience, Bcntley was content to make him sensible of his deficiency, by encouraging him to supply it, and even this kind severity M'as inflicted in tlie privacy of a post letter. When IJarnes, by an edition of Ilomer, in which he had end)arked his little all, proved that his Greek was more in l)ulk than value, lientley through a private connnunication to a conmion friend, let the veteran understand that he could have denndishcd him, and then dismissed him as loathe to spoil his fortune. " There is room enough in the Morld for thee and me." To Lc Clerc he was not equally merciful, and several anecdotes have been circulated to account for his severity to the Swiss Literateur. Perha])s he thought that a revicMer wants the condition of obtaining mercy. With his usual extemporaneous raj)idity, of which he never forgot to boast, he stnick off his Emendations in Menandri et Phile- inonis rcliquias c.v nupera edilione Johannis Clerici, under the name of Phileleutherus Lipsiensis, a Avork of high reputation, in the sending forth of M Inch he affected a mystery for which it is difiicidt to assign a reason. The iMS. M'as committed, Avitli a charge of secresy, toBurman, the bitterest enemy that Le Clerc's review had made, and printed in Holland. But the purpose of concealment if it really existed, was defeated by the indiscretion of Dr. Hare, then Chaplain general to the army in the Netherlands, to m hom the conveyance of the pacquet was intrusted. While tlie sheets were yet in the ])ress, the rejiort that Burinan was about to launch the thunderbolts of Bentley against the editor of the Fragments, reached the ears of Lc Clerc himself; who forthwith dispatched a menacing epistle to the p]nglish Aristarch, call- ing upon him to disown, !)y the next post, the authorship of the forth- coming attack, and denouncing his personal hostility if the work were avowed or an answer refused. Bentley, without either owning or deny- ing the performance, responded in a cool caustic epistle, exhibiting that perfect self-possession which naturally attended him Mhen he was in the right, and did not alwa\ s forsake him \\ hen he was in the wrong. With the most provoking civility, he exposctl the ignorance of his antagonist lia DR. RICHARD BENTLEY. as a Grecian editor, and tlie still more egregious folly of supposing his blunders sacred, and of expecting to silence criticism by bullying. As soon as the " Emendations" appeared, the author Mas immediately de- tected among the small band of Greek scholars. IMost likely he only disguised his name for the pleasure of hearing it guessed. It was agree- able to be told that he must have written the book because nobody else could have written it. In three weeks not a copy remained unsold, a pr(»nf of popularity almost unparalleled in the annals of classic lore ; which arose less from the merit of the work itself, great as it may be, than from the delight which the literati experienced in the humiliation of one whose critical censures they had long dreaded. Yet if Le Clerc had icw friends, Bentley had many enemies. Old Gronovius, who im- partially hated l)oth, issued a diatribe, entitled " Infamia Emendatio- num in IMenandrum nuper editarum." Bergler, whose Greek learning was really considerable, reviewed the controversy in the Leipsic Acta Eruditorum, in a mild conciliatory spirit, and John Cornelius de Pauw, of Utrecht, an imfortunate scholar, ^hose name we have never seen, in Latin or English, uncoupled with terms of vituperation, reviled Phile- Icutherus in a production to which, in allusion to the grasping disposi- tion of his adversary, he subscribes the subriquet of Philargyrius Cantabrigiensis, — Love-Gold, of Cambridge. To this composition, which is said to be abusive even beyond the usual measure of scholastic virulence, Le Clerc, who would have acted wisely to withdraw from a contest in Avhich he could never recover his laurels, added a preface, and Salvini, the Florentine, appended some feeble notes. To none of these retorts did Bentley deign a reply. At length, on the 6tli of December, the great critic put the last hand to his Horace, just in time to lay it at the feet of Lord Oxford, in a dedication, mIucIi formed the first public proof of his adhe- rence to the victorious tories. It was originally intended for Lord Halifax, but before the time of publication, Halifax had ceased to be a minister, and Harley had succeeded to the vacant place of patron, which then seemed essential to the formation of a cabinet. To Harley, then, was Horace given, with an address, not much more adulatory than custom authorised. In one I'espect, the to])ic of compliment was well chosen. Harley, not content to owe his earldom of Oxford to his political service, claimed descent from the Veres and INIortimers, the feudal possessors of that peerage, and Bentley took care to humour him in this vanity. Whether the genealogical preten- sions of the Lord Treasurer were just or not, is of little consequence: certainly Bolingbroke, the colleague of his triumph, and partaker of his subsequent persecutions, treated them with ridicule — " as mere DK. I!l( IIAUI) I!I;NTLEV. 1 H' jovi.'il inspirations fmni tho I'unu's of claret ;" l)ut jjorliaps Harloy was r.itluT the liiinestor man of the two. This change in licntlcy's jjolitical connexions did not escape chastisement from Pope, or his iwkKm-- strapper, the annotator of the Dunciad, who makes it the i^rmnMl of a most unprovoked attack on liis nephew Thomas, who is thus nicntiiMicd in the remark on verse 205, Bo(»k 2: — " Beutley his mouth with classic flatten,' ope's, And the puft''d orator hursts t)Ut in Tropes. "Not spoken of the famous Dr, Ricliard Bentlcy, hut of one Tiiomas Bentley, a small critic, who a])ed his uncle in a little Horace. The great one was intended to be dedicated to Lord Halifax, but the ministry changing, it was given to Lord Oxford. So the little Horace was dedicated to liis son, the Lord Harley." It may l)e added, that this sarcasm j)robably asserts an untruth ; ten to one, it was Richard Bentley whom Pope intended all the while. The ai)i)earaiice of Horace was the signal for a fresh list of animad- vertcrs to direct their shafts against the editor. Among these, the most hunioiu-ous was his old adversary. Dr. King, a very small poet, whose vulgar trash still occupies a place in collections from Mhich Sidney, IMarvell, and a hundred Morthier names are excluded. His tirade on this occasion is not void of drollery. It describes Horace as visiting England according to his o\\n pr(»phecy, and taking up his abode in Trinit)- College, where he puts all into confusion, — consumes inunoderate quantities of college bread and ale, and grows immensely fat. Epicuri de grege jiorcxis. But Bentley had more formidaljle antag(mists. — John Ker, and Johnson, of Nottingham, tMO school- masters, attacked his Latinity, which, though vigorous and Roman in the mould of the sentences and cast of tlujught, sometimes admitted words and exj)ressions of doubtful purity. Alexander Cunningham, a learned Scotchman, resident at the Hague, at a later period directed liis attacks, which were not to be despised, against the temerity i of Bentley's Emendations. Few persons will l)e much interested in the origin, the ins and outs, or even the right and wrong, of these paper wars. For poor schoolmasters, like Ker and Johnson, it was a good mode of advertising their academics, to appear before the world as adversaries of Bentley. Ker, moreover, was a Dissenter, and, as such, appehensive of the High-Church party, to which Bentley had just proclaimed his adhesion. If, however, the publication of the Horace exposed the editor to nuich ridicule, and some jvist criticism, it jtrocured him the most flattering testimonials from the learned both at home an] after the revolution, and tlie obscene, blaspheming Atheism of Charles the Second's revellers condemned itself to execration. Still Deism, which even under the reign of the Puritans had secretly leagued itself with Republicanism, found too many advocates ; some hovered on the confines of latitudiiiarianism and unbelief, and others, seduced per- haps by excessive admiration of heathen writers and heathen institutions, persuaded themselves that Christianity, whether true or false, was not necessary either to the perfection of the individual, or the welfare of society. Well know ing that if the conscience were once relieved from the obligation of believing, no proof nor evidence would long constrain the understanding to assent, the revolters against revelation took upon themselves the title of Free-thinkers, and wrote and spoke to set forth the duty and expediency of liberating the thinking faculty from the tyranny of creeds and dogmata. They also dwelt much upon the intrinsic excellence, the bliss and loveliness of virtue, and its fitness to the nature of man, the necessary benevolence of the Deity, and the like topics, which do not read so very unlike Christianity, as to alarm the simple pious, though they do implicitly destroy the foundations, by disowning the necessity of the Christian scheme. Such at least were the doctrines of Shaftesbury, the most elegant writer, and the most philosopliic mind of the whole fraternity; whose opinions, on subjects purely philosophic, are worthy of respect. Others, there doubtless were, who addressed themselves to a lower rank of intellect, and maintained the natural indifference, or the irresponsible fatality of actions. Among those free-thinkers, who prided themselves on keeping terms with morality, was Anthony Collins, a man of fortune and fashion; and unlike the herd of modern infidels, a gentleman altogether presentable ; whose plausible address and ready talents had formerly gained the confidence of Locke. He had also a shewy second-hand acquaintance with the ancient writers, wliich made him the oracle of a small society which met at the Grecian Coffee-house, near Temple-bar. Early in 1713, appeared INIr. Collins's " Discourse of Free-thinking, occasioned by the Rise and Growth of a Sect called Free-thinkers." The book created a great sensation. It was, of course, extolled by sucli as openly professed, or covertly inclined to the opinions of the author, and was probably even more admired by the cowardly and unwilling l)elievers ; for there is nothinff so great as an infidel in the eyes of those that would be infidels if they dare. Even sound christians are apt to exaggerate the talents of their opponents: and moreover there is always a strong prejudice in favour of audacity ; and ever will be, as long as fear — not love, — slavish acquiescence, not rational conviction, (which pre-supposes true free- thinking,) — are inade the basis of moral and religious education. Collins's Q 122 T>R. RICHARD BENTLEY. book is said, hy those wlio have read it, to be discreditable in a literary point of view; composed of rash assertions and Hinisy sophisms, thickly fenced vith garbled quotations and misinterpretations of Plato, Cicero, and other ancient writers, whom by a most absurd anachronism, or yet absurder equivoque, he would prove to have been free-thinkers. It was this affectation of reading and scholarship that called Bentley into the field."' Under his old signature of Phileleutherus Lipsiensis, lie encountered and demolished the infidels, and made tlie Christian alarmists ashamed of their fears. Bentley had in fact, but little to do. For a scholar, to M'bom every relic of antiquity was familiar as Propria quce Maribus to a JMaster of the lower form, to convict a half learned and dishonest smatterer of false citation and misapplication, was child's play. But, in the course of his examinations, he had an opportunity of doing Christianity a real service. The recent labours of Dr. Mill to rectify the text of the Greek Testa- ment had brought to light a body of thirty thousand various readings ; a discovery by which many of the weak brethren were frightened, as if a fatal flaw had been detected in the title deeds of their everlasting inhe- ritance. It is easy to conceive what use a Collins would make of these discrepancies; and Protestantism would not siibmit to an authority like that of the Council of Trent, which gave an cx-post-facto sanctity to the Vulgate, with all its errors on its liead. But Bentley re-assured the faith of the fearful, by shewing that an immense majority of these variations did not affect the sense at all, and that none disturbed any cardinal doctrine. Collins was not even an honest man, for he re- printed his work in Holland, purified from the gross cases of ignoi-ance exposed by Bentley, and then circulating this expurgate edition, (which he had taken ore to mask by a false title page,) in England, he persuaded his party that the passages in question were forgeries of * Besides Bentley, Collins was answered by Iloadley, and by Whiston; the pretence of free-thinking was exposed by Berkeley, (afterwards Bishop of Cloyne,) in the third number of the Guardian ; and Ibbot, a chaplain to Arch-bishop Tenison, made the confutation of his discourse the subject of his Boylean Lectures. Swift, who probably despised Antony's shallowness, more than he abhorred his irreligion, gave an ** Abstract," in which the arguments of Collins, and his invectives against the high- church clergy are exhibited in an improved style, and without the pedantic quotations which fill more than half of the original work. This plain statement, which displays the tenets of the free-thinkers in their true and naked proportions, he delivers in the character of a Whig, thus identifying Whiggisni and Infidelity, in order to cast odium on his political opponents: a most unfair manoeuvre, though executed with the Dean's accustomed success. A full examination and exposure of Collins's book may be found in Leland's " Dei.stical Writers." DH. RiniARI) BKNTLKV. ]2;} Beiitley's. On such an otlViidcr, w liat severity cimlcl 1k' too severe ? Of the temper in which Bentley executed vengeance however, we may judge from the fact, that he afterwards refused to continue his Reply, when requested by Caroline, Princess of Wales: conceiving him- self discountenanced by the Court, he protested that he would do nothing to gratify those mIio had behaved no I)etter than his declared enemies. J3ut sound arguments in behalf of Christianity are not the worse because the njan who urges them may be but an indifferent Christian. Even in the primitive church, St. Paul bears testimony that " Some preached Christ even of euvy and strife ;" but notwithstanding every way, he rejoices, that " Christ was preached." The re])ly to Collins Mas the last puldished work of Bentley, previous t(» the trial at Ely-house, so luiexpcctcdly terminated by the death of Bishop Moore, and brings the literary annals of our subject to a chrono- logical accordance with his civil — we might almost say — his militant history. To Trinity College we must now return. As all proceedings were by tlie decease of the Visitor rendered null and void, the parties now stood in sfafu quo ante helium ; and a fair opportunity offered to conclude a lasting j)eacc on the basis of mutual concession. A^o less than six of the original prosecutors had died diu-ing the progress of the suit, and of those that remained, few possessed vigour, talent, funds, or influence, to contend against the ^Master. INIiddleton, the ablest sub- scriber of the original petition, had ceased to be a Fellow, and was yet luiknown beyond the circle of his acciuaintance, who perhaps, little ex- pected that " Fiddling Conyers," as Bentley contemptuously called him, would atchievc a high name in English literature. A temj)orary paci- fication was concluded. The scheme of dividends and comj)ensatiou was allowed to drop, but for all besides, Bentley was as despotic as ever. All offices were bestowed at his discretion: to ojipose him, was to forswear promotion. After the death of Dr. Smith, Modd, a convenient nonen- tity, mIio had not taken the statutable degrees, was made V^ice-IMaster; Bathurst, m ho was almost blind. Bursar • and Ilanburv, whom the Doctor himself had charged with dnnduhlic seems to have heen favourable to the Great Critic; and had he possessed a more complying temper, and a nicer sense of integrity in pecuniary dealings, he might have lived in peace and honour, and risen to the highest dignities of his profession. The political contingencies of the times furnished him with fre({uent occasions of serving tlie government, which was looking at the Universities with an ominous eye of suspicion. Oxford, retaining a traditionary atlection for the grandson of Charles I., almost aj)proved the conduct of her Chancellor, the Duke of Ormond, who had joined the Pretender, by electing his brotlier, tlie Earl of Arran, in his room. Cambridge, less devoted to the exiles, was yet coldly affected towards the Whig domination, and reinstated her Tory representatives at the general election of 1715. Riots took place on the Pretender's birth- day, and again on that of King George, and some young gownsmen broke windows, and cried " No Hanover." This the Vice Chancellor pr\i- dently considered merely as a breach of discipline ; but it was judged expedient that the Senatus Academicus should express their attachment to constituticmal monarchy, in the Protestant line, by a formal act. An address was got u]), declaring that they had ever acknowledged King George as their rightful sovereign, reminding him of his i)r()mises, and engaging in turn to train up the youth in the way they should go, "that they might shew in their conduct an example of that loyalty and obedience Mhich this University, pursuiiKj the doctrines of our church, lias ever maintained." This testimonial seems to have been well timed, for it gained from the king a present of Bishop IMoore's magnificent library, consisting of 30,000 volumes, which, at Lord Townsend's sug- gestion, had been purchased by the crown for £6,000, while the sister University was insxdted by being placed under military surveillance. On this occasion appeared the well-known ejjigram by an unknow n hand : " King George, observing with judicious eyes The state of both his Universities, To Oxford sent .a troop of horse, and why ? — That learned body wanted loyalty : To Cambridge books he sont, as well discerning How much that loyal body wanted learning." Retaliated by Sir W. Browne, founder of the prizes for odes and epigrams : — " The King to Oxford sent a troop of horse, For Tories own no argument but force ; With equal skill to Ciunbridgc books he sent, For Whigs admit no force but arguracuU" ]2ti UK. KlCHARi) BKNTLKV. Bentley seems at this time to have been considered as a Whig lumi- nary ; for a tract, inordinately whiggish (that is, Hanoverian), called " l^>iire?-sity Loyalty Considered," is subscribed Philo-Bentleius and Philo-Georgius. We hope the Doctor was not at the bottom of this. When the lieir of Stuart made his first eflfort to recover the throne M-hich his father could not keep, Bentley, on the 5th of November, preached before the University against Popery, in a style of tremen- dous eloquence, which proves what he might have done, had he chosen to cultivate his native language."" * Sterne, who availed himself unscrupulously of whatever suited his purpose, has borrowed — or, as some would say, stolen — a striking passage of this discourse, and inserted it into the sermon read by CoqDoral Trim — (see Tristram Shandy). We cannot resist inserting it, along with the preceding paragraphs. After speaking of the various corruptions introduced into Christianity by the Ro- mish clerg}- with a view to make their trade profitable — as purgatorj^, pardons, relics, &c., he proceeds : — " I might now go on to shew j'ou a more dismal scene of impos- tures — judicia Dei — the judgments of God, as they blasphemously call them, when no human evidence could be found — their trials by ordeal — by taking a red hot iron in the hand — by putttug the naked arm into hot boiling water — by sinking or swim- ming in pools or rivers, when bound fast, hand and foot — all of them borrowed or copied from pagan knavery and superstition ; and so managed, by arts and sleights, that the party could be found guilt}- or innocent, as the priests pleased, who were always the trj-ers. What bribes were hereby procured? What false legacies extorted.' What malice and revenge executed ? On all which, if we should fully dilate and expatiate, the tragedy of this day, which now calls for our consideration, would scarce appear extraordinarj'. Dreadful indeed it was, — astonishing to the imagination : all the ideas assemble in it of terror and horror. Yet, when I look on it with a philosophical eye, I am apt to felicitate those appointed for that sudden blast of rapid destruction, and to pity those miserables who were out of it, the designed victims to slow cruelty', the intended objects of lingering persecution. For since the whole plot (which will ever be the plot of popery) was to subdue and enslave the nation, who would not choose and prefer a short and despatching death, •piick as that by thunder and lightning, which prevents pain and perception, before the anguish of mock trials — before the legal accommodations of goals and dungeons — before the peaceful executions of fire and faggot? Who would not rather be placed direct above the infernal mine, than pass through the pitiless mercies, the salutarj' torments, of a popish inquisition — that last contrivance of atheistical and devilish politic? If the other schemes may appear to be the shop, the warehouse of Popen,', this last may justly be called its slaughter-house and its shambles. Thither are haled poor creatures (I should rather have said rich, for that gives the most fre- quent suspicion of heresy), without any accuser — without any allegation of fault. They must inform against themselves, and make confession of something heretical, or else undergo the discipline of the various tortures; — a regular system of ingenious cruelty, composed by the united skill and long successive experience of the best engi- neers and artificers of torment. That savage saying of Caligula's, horrible to speak or hear, and fit only to be writ in blood — "/te/cri id sp. mori sential" — is here height encd and improved. " llu se mori sciitial, ul ne inorialur," say these merciful inquisi- l)i;. RICFIARD BENTLEV. 12/ About the same time, uliile tlie Jacobites were regarded witb iiKire than usual alarm, and many of the parochial clergy — the jjoor and dis- contented ones esj)ecially, — were more than suspected of a leaning towards the proscribed House, — the decease of Dr. George Hickes, tlie Saxon scholar, an honest Yorkshireinan, who had been dejjrived of the Deanery of Worcester as a Non-juror, h'd to the discovery of certain pai)ers in his hand-writing, of so very High-Church a tendency, as not only to unsettle the foundations of the Hanoverian government, but to exclude a great majority of the people from the Christian covenant. According to this relic, all the conforming clergy were schismatic: orders conferred by Bishops under the new regime were invalid, and consecjuently baptism, performed by the schismatic divines, illegal, and of no saving efficacy. Of course, it was the understood purpose of the Jacobites, on their expected ret»n-n to power, to eject the usurping clergy from their benefices^ and to debar the laity ft-om the sacred ordi- nance, till the priest should be re-ordained, the layman re-bajjtized, by hands of unpolluted orthodoxy. Nothing could be more ttpportune for the government than the publication of these papers ; for they helped to luidoceive some well disposed persons, who thought that civil obedience would l)e assured by restoring the jure dicino succession, and religion less nnperilled by Catholic power, than by Low-Cluu'ch poli- tics. But when it api)eared that the designs of the plotters would unsettle all ecclesiastical ]>roperty, interfere M'ith the rights of patron- age, dissolve the bands of matrimony, make the child of holy vows at once unresrenerate and illeiritimate, and brand the chastest matron as neither maid, wife, nor widow (for the marriages performed by schis- matics Mould be as voidable as the baptisms), all the moderate church party were panic-struck, and many an honest vicar began to pray sin- cerely for King George. Bentley neglected not to improve this juncture of affairs. As Archdeacon of Ely, he summoned the clergy of that diocese (among whom were some suspicious cluaracters) to a visitation, tors. The force, the effect, of every rack, every agony, are exactly understood. This stretch, that strangulation, aiv the utmost nature can bear; the least addition will overpower it : this posture keeps the weak soul hanging on the lip, ready to leave the carcase, and yet not suffered to take its wing : this extends and prolongs the very moment of expiration — continues the pangs of dying, without the ease and benefit of death. O pious and proper method for the propagation of faith ! O true and genuine Vicar of Christ, the God of mercy and the Lord of peace ! " — Bvntlei/s Ser- mons, 6th edition, page 360. Well might the Corporal express his feeling of the tremendous cnerg>- of this pas- sage, by saying " he would not read another word of it for all the world." it is a wonder that Dr. Ferriar of Manchester, who took so much pains in detecting the plagiarisms of Sterne, should have overlooked this. J 28 DR. RICHARD BENTLEV. regardless of the foul roads and interrupted festivities of December, and ill a clear, forcible, and argumentative chai'ge, insisted upon the necessity of giving support to the established government ; exposed the folly of expecting security for a Protestant church under a Catholic head ; and, availing himself of poor Hickes's projected purgation of the Temple, set forth how absolutely the preferments and spiritual character of the majority among them would lie at the mercy of a triumphant and exasperated party, should the Stuarts be allowed to re-ascend the throne. This, it has been observed, is the only composi- tion of the Doctor's which can strictly be called political (though, in the various pamphlets of business which his litigations called forth, he did not omit to impute disaffection to his adversaries, or to ascribe his own luipopularity to his zeal for the powers which be). It seems to have been couched in temperate and respectful terms, avoiding personal reflections on those whose opinions he condemned. It is probable that it answered its purpose. As might be expected, it was highly lauded by the adherents of his own side, and not much relished by the devotees of the other; among whom Mas Thomas Hearne, the antiquary, who probably regarded divine right and indefeasible succession as venerable antiquities ; though the antiquity of these, like that of Phalaris' Epistles, is shrewdly suspected of being spurious. But the Bentley of political criticism has not yet arisen. Both sides content themselves with blank assertion, vague deductions of possible consequences, and mutual recrimination. Be it as it may, most antiquaries are Ultra- Tories, but very harmless and useful in their way. Bentley m as per- haps as little the better for the extravagant praise of Oldmixon, the Whig historian, of Dunciad notoriety, as the worse for the notice in Hearne's MSS. Diary, purporting, that the charge "proves Dr. Bentley to be (as he is) a rascal, and an enemy to the King, and to all the King's friends." It was obvious enough whom Tom Hearne held to be King. He partook the j)olitical sentiments of his Alma Mater, where it was customary (within the memory of persons not long deceased) to drink to the King over the icater. On the 15th of April, \^\Q, Bentley, in a letter to Wake, Archbishop of Canterbury, first broached his famous scheme for restoring the text of the Greek Testament " exactly as it was at the time of the Council of Nice," without the difference of " twenty words," or even " tw^enty particles." This magnificent promise, the apparent presumptuousness of which exposed him to much obloquy, he never lived to execute, though he lived more than six and twenty years after its first promul- gation. Yet he certainly did make it in earnest, and never abandoned his purpose till old age overtook him. We cannot better convey a DR. niCIIARD BENTLEV. ]2^) notion of the nictliod wliicli he j)ro|)osed to adopt, than in tli - r 134 DR. RICHARD BENTLEY. to anotlier. To tliis most disgraceful production we shall have occasion to revert when Me proceed Avitli the belligerent part of Bentley's history. It should be reprinted l)y the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Know- ledge, for the instruction of such as imagine tliat the licence and per- sonalities of the press, are a peculiar disgrace of the nineteenth century. Let it be recollected, that all this evil speaking was introduced into a work of which the ostensible piu-pose was to illustrate and restore the New Testament, being entitled, "Doctor Bentley's proposals for printing a new edition of the New Testament, and St. Hicrom's Latin Version." As usual, in his later controversial writings, the Doctor speaks of himself in the third person. The proposed New Testament gave rise to several other pieces, one or two of which it may not be amiss to mention. Zachary Pearce, a young Fellow of Trinity, then chaplain to the Lord Chancellor, after- wards Bishop of Rochester and of Bangor, and editor of Longinus, in two elegant Latin epistles, signed Phileleutherus Londinensis, took a fair view of the question, and made an estimate of Bentley's qualifica- tions and disqualifications. This tract is chiefly memorable as record- ing the unfavourable effect of the South Sea speculation upon literature, and the universal thirst for sudden wealth then pervading all classes of society. Another " Letter" appeared, in vindication of the disputed verse, 1 John, v. 7, which it was apprehended that Bentley would condemn, and probably exclude from his edition. It was erroneously attributed to iMiddleton, and is printed as his in Sir Walter Scott's republication of Lord Somers' Tracts. The real author Avas Smallbroke, afterwards Bishop of St. David's. These flying papers at this age would have appeared as articles in the periodical reviews : but a second assault from IMiddleton, called " Further Remarks on the proposals, &c." was so superior to his former publication in learning, style, and argument, and found the public mind so ill disposed towards his adver- sary, that a notion long prevailed, that it actually forced Bentley to abandon his project by putting a stf»p to the subscription. But this opinion, which csiti(»ii to tlie ]Mast<'r, tlii-ix' is v\cr\ reason to tliiiik. that lie \\as strictly coiiscieiitious. lie was slow to enrol liiinself among the Kenionstrants ; for his principles, which were IIij;li-Churcli in reli-^ion, and Tory in jxtlitics, made him averse to appeals against cttnstitTited authority. He supported Bentley in some of liis strongest reforms din-ing the first years of liis IMastership, and though he signed the petition of 1710, it was with an expressed proviso, that his sole oliject was an aniicahle arhitration. As he had an ill opinion of INliller, who was a violent Whig and Low-Churchman, he kept nmch aloof from the prosecutors so long as the counsellor was their main mover, and rather sided with those who thought liis Fellowship vacated by his unstatu- table income. It was not till 171''") that he entered into the (piarrel with all his heart, and Mith all his mind, and with all his soul, and with all his strength, and devoted to it a perseverance worthy of a martyr; it became the primitni mobile of his soul, the spring of his actions, the regulator of his princii)les : lu-ged, as he thought, doubtless, by " the strong antipathy of good to bad," he would have sacrificed life, as well as health, ease, and fortune, to the cause. It often hapi)ens, that the inunediate occasion of a rupture is a com- parative trifle, and the world are disposed to wonder that men wIkj liave sul)niitted to so much for the sake of peace, should buckle on their arniovu- at last for so little; uot remembering, that each successive demand, be it large or small, goes to prove the inutility of concession ; that human patience has but a certain capacity ; and that the last drop makes the cup overflow. Thus, it was a mere informality in disposing of a piece of college land situate in Kirby Kendal, where no substantial injury was done to any party, that produced the first personal conflict between Colbatch and the JMaster. Bentley does uot appear to have resented this opposition, for shortly after he made Colbatch an offer of the Vice-]\Iastership, which he declined, as not having attained the requisite standing. Perhaps he suspected a sinister purpose in the offer itself; for had he accepted it, in violation of the letter of the law, he woidd virtually have assented to the dispensing power of the ^Master, and ackn(n\ledged his right in the absolute disposal of offices and emoluments. It was Beutley's detennination to be himself the fountain of honour and profit to all his subjects. He did not even allow a gradation of patronage, but interfered as decidedly in the appointment of college servants, as in the elections to Scholarsliij)s and Fellowships. He made his own coachman ])R- RICHARD BENTLEY. By a statute of Queen Elizabeth it is ordered, that one third of the college rents shall be reserved in corn or malt, or a sum equivalent to the price current of those articles, in order that the college revenues might in some measure keep pace with the fluctuations in the value of money. Bentley took upon him to grant two leases, without any regard to the provisions of that statute, Mhereby he obtained larger fines for the benefit of the existing society, at the probal)le expense of their successors. This measure, which he carried Avith his accustomed despotism, was particularly grievous to Col batch, whose college M^as his country and his family, and the Fellows of Trinity, for all genera- tions to come, as his own offspring and inheritors. He addressed two letters to the Bishop of El_v, Avho adhered to the non interference system. But at this desperate juncture the state of the foundation attracted the attention of Archbishop Wake, who had just been advanced from the see of Lincoln to the Primacy. This prelate, who had distinguished himself in a controversy with Bossuet, and has been uncharitably cen- sui-ed for a Avell-meaut but imjjracticable project of Union between the English and Gallician Churches, was in habits of intercourse with Philip Farewell, a junior Fellow of Trinity, wlio corresponded with Colbatch. Through liim the primate was informed of the lamentable discord, and consequent relaxation of discipline, in the largest acade- mical institution of Britain, and saw the necessity of bringing the case before some competent authority. He, therefore, by the intermediation of Farewell, suggested the propriety of a petition to the King, to be signed by a respectable number of Fellows, simply praying that the Visitatorial right might be ascertained, that it might be known of whom redress was to be sought, promising to support such petition in his })lace at the Council-board. The petition M'as soon in readiness, subscribed by nineteen Fellows. Though specially cautioned to keep their cause separate from that of JMiller, which in fact only regarded his own Fellowship, yet, in an evil hour, they were persuaded to intrust it to his management. A few days before this movement, Bentle}', who knew well enough what was afloat, addressed to Archbishop Wake his proposals for restoring the New Testament : no Monder, then, if his adversaries called the whole project a 7'use de guerre. If so, it was an unsuccessful one, for Wake M^as heard to declare, within three weeks after, that " Dr. Bentley was the greatest instance of human frailty he had ever known, with his parts and learning, to be so insup])ortable." But Wake's own influence was not great with a government that regarded JMother Church with most unfilial c(»ldness, and knew the worth of Bentley, as head of the ministerial party in Caml:)ridge, and the rate at M'hich he prized his I ) It. RICHARD LENTLEY. Ill services, too well to tnmljle tliemselves with trouljiiii;^ liiiii. Accord- ingly, thoiigii tlie petition did obtain a tardy hearing, l>eing read in Council on the 2()th «)1' October, IJl^. more than five months after its presentation, nothing more came of it than an offer of Bishop Fleetwood to resign the visitatorial power to the crown, and a reference of the cpiestion to Attorney-General Sir Edward Xorthey, who took time to consider of it. Before he liad made up his mind, a change took place in the Cabinet, and Sir Edward went out of oHice, carrying the papers in his bag. At least for three years they were not forthcoming, and there was no chance of getting another j)etition so powerfully signed. Thus did the concatenation of events conspire to protect Bentlcy, whn acted as if, like another despot, he deemed the star of his destiny in^in- cil)le. His great object was still to rid himself of ^Miller. He had pro- cured the provisional election of David Humphreys, on condition that the proceeds of the Fellowship be stayed till the King should decide whether or no IMilier was entitled to hold it. The King, however,, did not interfere. The Fellowship, was still in abeyance, and what concerned the Master more, the time Mas approaching when the useful Ashenhurst, not being in orders, would be superannuated, unless the Physic-FelloMship, held by the obnoxious Serjeant, could be cleared for his reception. The regular election coming on in September, IMilier an-ived with the determination t(t exercise his rights as a Fellow. Bentley, failing in the notable scheme before-mentioned, of a sortie from Westminster, had recourse to a couple of constables, who forced IMilier from the Lodge, and detained him in custody till the election was over. Then, adjourning to the chapel, Bentley and his voters proceeded to iill the five vacancies. In his appointments ou this occasion he displayed the opposite points of his character, — his honourable love of learning, and his reckless partiality and favouritism. Three of his nominees were yoiuig scholars, whose riper years fulfilled the promise of their early '[)n>fi<-iency, Leon;u-d Thomson, Zachary Pearco, and John Walker, the last of whom had been repeatedly named as Beutley's assistant in the New Testament. The munber was filled up with a nephew of IMrs. Bentley's, and a neidiew of Dr. Ilacket's. The Nepotism of the first nomination may easily be forgiven ; but the second has very much the air of a job. Dj-. Hacket, a senior Fellow, who owed his own election solely to his rela- tionship to the great benefactor Bishop Hacket, was a very serviceable man to the IMaster, and knowing that the IMaster could not do without liim, raised his pri('e accordingl)-. It was said that there had been elected three Fellows and two nephews. Colbatch, conceiving all the proceedings to l>e nullified by the violent 142 DR. RICHARD BENTLEY. exclusion of IMiller, withdrew from the chapel while the election went forward, and afterwards returned and protested. This Mas his regular practice for many years, by which he gained nothing but a salvo for liis own conscience, and a fresh article of accusation against the Master. Violent altercations took place in the college chapel, and from that time forth, the common forms of civility ceased to pass between the two Doctors. Colbatch having now arrived at the required standing, laid claim to the Vice-Mastership, for which IModd, being only M. A. was not ((ualitied ; but Bentley, in reference to the words of the statute, reminded him, that after the events of the last week, his appointment Mould not only be incommodum, but incommodissimvm. The violence used against IMiller had served no useful purpose, and the customary means of annoyance were unavailing against a man M'ho did not reside in the college, and Mas not dependant upon its favours. Bentley, therefore, took to smoother courses, and Mhile the disappear- ance of the Fellows' petition, along M'ith Sir EdMard Northey, occa- sioned a suspension of hostilities on that side, he made overtures of peace to the Sergeant, or to speak plainly, attempted to buy him off. It was proposed that Miller should be paid all arrears up to July, 17^5, and his laM' expcnces to boot, if he Mould resign his Fellowship, and MithdraM' his petition. But he was then sore M'ith the recent insult, and sanguine in his expectations of vengeance, so he refused to make terms with his enemy, and did just what his enemy might have prayed for — he wrote a book. Indeed the Doctor was not more felicitious in timing his own publications, than lucky in the mistiming of what was Mritten against him. By some strange fatality, M'hoever attacked Bentley Mas sure to give gratuitous offence to some higher power. Among the measures which the new IMinistry were expected to bring forward in the session of 1717^ were two Bills, one to ascertain the power of the King over the Church, and the other to regulate the Uni- versities ; both expressly levelled at the High-chin-ch party. Elate M-ith expectation of a movement M'hich was to lay the Hierarchy at the feet of the civil poM-er, Serjeant Miller put forth "A humble and seri- ous Representation, of the Present State of the University of Cambridge" intended, no doubt, to press upon Parliament the necessity of a prompt and decisive interposition ; filled M'ith such statements of the abuses, disorders, and disaffection of his Alma Mater, of course not overlooking Trinity College, or forgetting to give Dr. Bentley his full share of vituperation, that the M'hole University Mas put in commotion, every dutiful son of Granta felt himself personally insulted, A public cen- sure Mas [)assed, and inserted in the neMspapers, declaring the "Humble and serious Representation " " to be a false, scandalous, and malicious DR. RICHARD BENTLF.Y. 143 libel nil the good govi'niiiieiit and flourishing state of the University," and Miller was deprived of the Deputy-high stewardship. In the course of the same year (lyUl), lientley signalized his attach- ment to the existing government, and displayed his own iiiHuence over the academical public, with singular dexterity. A congratulatory address to the King on the su])])ressi()n of the rebellion had been pro- posed, and, on some pretext of informality, rejected. Though there was no really disloyal design in tliis, it liad an ill appearance. Bentley prepared anotlier address, and, by a series of able manoeuvres, carried it by surprise, in such a manner as to get the main credit of it himself. The English have always been famous for improving upon the inven- tions of others. The series of Latin authors, "in usum Delphiiii," was a fair challenge to English scholarship. The year I7K' \vas distin- guished by a ministerial project to rival the ])eli)hine Classics. It is said that the judges, Parker and King, suggested to Lord Townshend tlie propriety of employing Bentley in a similar series, " in usum Prin- cipis Frederici." Bentley shrunk not from the labour, though he alone was to be tasked with what the whole learning of France was barely sufticient to perform. But he demanded £1000 a year during the performance of the work, and Lord Townshend would only guarantee for £^500, a very insutHcient remuneration to the first scholar of the world, for what must needs have been the business of his life, when the instruction of a Prince w;is the object. Some one proposed tliat the editor should be remunerated per sheet, which proposal Bentley coolly rejected, saying, " that he or any man could till a sheet fast enough." A schism took place in the ministry : Lord Sunderland supplanted Lord Townshend, and the Frederician Classics were heard of no more. Bentley coidd have done nothing in his own way without doing good; but it is very doubtful whether he M'ould have succeeded in an edition for the use of schools, and such, of course, the Frederician was intended to be. He would have made difficidties where schoolboys never suspected any, and left all the difficulties that a boy would stumble at, in statu quo. He was too learned to teach. The year 1717 brought, as usual, its triumphs and its turmoils. Bentley had long been looking, with a vulture's eye, at the Regius Professorship of Divinity ; for Dr. James, the Regius Professor, was not expected to live — in short, he died. But Bentley was not, accord- ing to the intention of the foinidation, eligible, for he was himself one of the electors. By the charter of their institution, the three Royal Professors (those of Hebrew, Greek, and Divinity) are to be chosen by the Vice-Chancellor, the INIaster, and two senior Fellows of Trinity, and the Heads of King's, St. John's, and Christ's. As no substitute 144 I^R- RICHARD BENTLEY. was apjxiiiitod in case of the IMaster of Trinity being himself a candi- (hite for the otHce, it may be supposed that tlie founder meant the situations to be incompatible. But a rule which might exclude tlie fittest person from the chair was wisely dispensed with, and in fact there were two j)recedents of the Divinity Professorship having been held by INIasters of Trinity. But a more substantial objection to the union of the functions is, that the IMaster, conjointly with the other electors, is to take cognizance of the Professor's conduct, and, on just occasion shewn, after due admonition, to remove him from the chair. But obstacles of this kind Avere no obstacles to our hero ; for if an invincible uill, that decrees its own effect, and makes every faculty subservient to its purpose — a faith in inward power that vanquishes all circumstances, be heroism, Bentley was a hero,* — a term often strangely misapjilied to love-sick Narcissus's and pensive students. Though he knew that six out of the seven electors would oppose him, • — that the only vote he could command in the conclave was his own, — though he had seen the routine of succession broken through in order to exclude Dr. Bradford, an eminent man, and afterwards Bishop of Bristol, from the Vice-Chancellorship, simply because suspected of being a Bentleian, and Dr. Grigg appointed, as it were, purposely to keep him out ; though his own name had been proposed for the mere pleasure of rejecting him, "he bated not one jot of heart or hope." His first scheme was to defer the election beyond the statutable period, in order that the appointment might lapse to the crown, in which case he thought himself secure. His IMajesty's return from Hanover, and the prevention of the Swedish invasion, carried the Vice-Chancellor to London, A\'ith an address, just in time to enable Bentley to assert that the lapse had taken place. This, however, was over-ruled. But his arts were not exhausted. Dr. Grigg was a most obsequious chaplain to the proud Duke, who was then Chancellor of the University of Cam- bridge. Bentley contrived that the Duke should send his chalked, but for one lucky article in the foiuidation statutes, * It is a moot jjoinl with the critics whether a hero ought to be an honest man. DR. RICHARD BENTLEV. J }.-> that, if any of the clcrtdrs wore Vire-ClianccUor at the time of election, the niunljer sliould bo tilled up hy the head lif Queen's College. Now the head of Queen's was Bentley's idolater, Davies : Bentley himself represented the Vice-Chancellor, and was also JMaster of Trinity : of the two senior Fellows, IMr. Cock (of whom Bentley had prophesied that he would die in his sliocs) was bed-ridden, and poor Stublie had never shewn his face in Cambridge since his extrusion from the Vice- IMastership ; their places M'ere therefore supplied by jM(»dd and Ba- thurst, and well supplied as far as the IMaster's interest was concerned, for thus he could reckon four good votes, his own inclusive. The day was set, tlie electors were summoned, Bentley and his friends were ready : the heads of King's, St. John's, and Christ's did not choose to he j>resent at what tliey esteemed a mockery of election, and perhaps thought to invalidate the proceedings by their absence. After waiting an hour, Dr. Bentley offered himself as a candidate : no other appear- ing, the formalities were gone through, and by the first of IMay, 1717? he was Regius Professor of Divinity. Do the annals of electioneering contain any thing paralel ? * For liis prelection on tliis occasion, he chose tlie disputed text in St. Jolin's epistle, — " For there are three which bear record in Heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost, and these three are One." The discourse h;is never been printed, nor is it known whether it be in existence. His enemies ridicided it as savouring more of verbal criti- cism, than of sound theology, but perliaps with little justice. The au- thenticity or spuriousness of any passage, appearing in any author, can only be decided in two ways, either critically or historically, by internal or external evidence, Bentley, in his j)ra;lection, probably considered the verse criticalh/ ; examined whether it harmonized with the general style of its author, and the manner of speaking in his age : in his pro- jected restoration of the Sacred Text, he engaged to consider it histori- cally, and to admit or exclude it, as tlie numljer and weight of manu- script authorities and testimonies of the Fathers should preponderate * Not the least remarkable feature iu this strange transaction, is the supineuess and infatuation of Bentley's adversaries. Had they possessed the true electioneering spirit, old Cock would have been brought in his bed to the hustings, as we see in Hogarth's admirable print of the Tollbooth. Hearne, whose unfriendly disposition towards the Professor we have more than once had occasion to remark, thus notices the business:- "Dr. Bentley is elected Regius Professor. He was opposed by Dr. Ashton, Master of Jesus, who had got it if Bentley had not used knavery. Ashton was best qualified.---MS. Diary." Why is this Diary of Hearue's a MS..' Noji cuivis continffil adire Corinthum. Not all mankind, or even all the godly, Can get at book in library of Bi^lley. T 146 DR. RICHARD BKNTLEV. for or against. It would revtainly argue strongh' against the verse, should it appear that it was not cited at the Council of Nice, wherein Arianisni Avas condemned, nor referred to by any Father of the first foiu- centuries. Yet it may be doubted whether Arius, who denied not the Divinity or Filiation, but the Coeternity and Consubstantiality of the Son, would have thought it conclusive against him. " You endeavour to prove," says Bentley, in reply to a letter of a layman, whose name has not trans])ired, " You endeavour to prove (and that's all you aspire to), that it itunj have been Avrit by the Apostle, being con- sonant to his other doctrine. This I concede ; and if the fourth centiu-y knew that verse, let it come in in God's name ; but if that age did not know it, then Arianism in its height was beat down, without the aid of that verse ; and let the fact prove as it will, the doctrine is unshaken." If Arianism had not been beaten down without it, it would not have been beaten down with it. It is just as evasible as twenty others, and twenty others as conclusive as it. The preponderance of outward testi- mony seems to be against it, but the logic, the connection of thought, the very architecture of the passage, speaks strongly for it. If the seventh verse be rejected, the eighth should be rejected also. But this is no place to discuss the question. Bentley is said to have decidedly condemned the verse in his prailection.* The duties of the Divinity Professor are important, though from the almost total neglect of the old scholastic Theology and Logic, many of them, if not altogether discontinued, have become mere matter of routine. He should moderate in the disputations in the schools, lecture twice a week, create Doctors of Divinity, and preach in Latin before the University on certain stated days. The stipend, as fixed by Henry VIII. was only forty pounds, but a change of times having I'endered this salary utterly inadequate. King James I. endowed the Professorship with the three livings of Colne, Pidley, and Somersham, in Huntingdonshire, altogether above £300 annually, which Bentley, by taking the great tithes into his own hands, and letting the small tithes to rent to his Bailiff, expected to raise to £600. But it cannot be supposed that the chiefs of the University were easy under the trick which had given them a Professor of his own * In some of the earlier Protestant Translations the verse in question was distin- guished with a diflFerent type, the discontinuance of which distinction was severely censured by Emlyn, an Arian, who was prosecuted for a work entitled " A humble enquiry into the Scripture account of .Jesus Christ." Onr knowledge of this fact is due to Dr. Monk; but we think it probable that the early translators rather meant to dis?nify the verse, than to bastardize it. Surely the Red Letter Days are not meant to be rejected out of the year. 1)11. lUCIiARD BKNTLKY. 1 17 choosing, wlio scarcely deigned to tender tlie rorinul respect due to their station. They only waited for an opjmrtunity of marking their indignation, confident that the violence of Bentley Mould not let them wait long. Cutting short tlic monotonous relation of college desi)otism, of which our readers must he heartily tired ; not detailing how the J)i\ ine Professor turned the old dove-cote into a granary for his Somersham tithe corn, and compelled the college to pay for doing the same ; liow he obliged the college brewer to take his tithe malt at full price, though damaged by the insect called weevil, to tlie great disparagement of the fair fame of Trinity audit ale ; how either he or liis bailiff, Kent, effected a collusive sale of wheat, in order to raise the college rents, and make the college pay an unreasonable price for its own bread ; how he made his lunnble servant, Richard Walker, Junior Bursar, and how Richard Walker* paid away tlie public money at his sovereign's discre- tion ; how the IMaster of Trinity built, and planted, and erected barns, and sununer-houses, and villas, and how the poor Fellows bore the Jjurden of all — we will pass to the month of October, 1717, ^^■hen his ISIajesty, George 1st, being at Newmarket, was invited by a gowned • There is something almost aflFecting iu the blind devotion, the canine fidelitj', of this man to Bentley. He seems to have a'iked for nothing but the means of serving his mastiT. He was possessed with the passion of loyalty; and, we doubt not, would have been proud to encounter want, blows, scorn, prison, pillor}-, or death itself, for his liege lord. While Hacket, Ashenhurst, and others of Bentley's instruments might be suspected of being " super-serviceable knaves," Walker should be discharged of all such suspicion. What is extraordinary is, that he was not a man of scholastic pursuits, and perhaps knew more about books from handing them to the Master, than from his own studies. There was not between Bentley and Walker, as between my Uncle Toby and Corporal Trim, the bond of a common hobby-horse. But there arc— at least, there were— some minds, to whom servitude is congenial; in whom submission is not servility, but instinct; who are pleased to annihilate their own will and individuality, and exist as mere instrumental membci> of another. Their glorj' is in their humiliation, and therefore it is no mystciy that they seem the more inveterately attached the worse they are used. We cannot accord to this temper the approbation of reason. There is but one Being to whom such unconditional obedi- ence, such self-abasement, is due. All submissions of man to man are but the steps of God's altar, or they are essentially idolatrous. Still, if there be such a thing as an amiable weakness, it is this excess of loyal affection. This slight tribute we thought due to Fn>(i \\alker, as in that age and place of nicknames he was called, from ha\ing held a curacy among the feus. The place of Junior Bursar was like that of >Edile at Rome, the first step in the ladder of office; and like that, too, was charged with the care of the public buildings, Sic., and the disbursements pertaining thereto. The ai)puintm.'nt of Walker to this office enabled Bentley to give full swing to his architectural inani;i. Tliis wa>i hardly honest; but Richard's ideal of right was constituted by tlie Master's dictum. 148 DR. RICHARD BENTLEY. deputation to honour tlio University with liis presence, and was j^ra- cioiisly pleased to appoint Sunday, the ()th, for that j)urpose; which, considering the toil, bustle, canity, and expense, the luuieccssary cook- ing and dressings and all the pomp and worldliness attendant on a royal visitation, was little better than the Head of the Church commanding Sabbath-breach. No wonder that no good came of it. To Bcntley fell the two-fold task of creating the Royal Doctors of Divinity (who, as we have already stated, were created at the royal fiat, without either undergoing the statutable examinations, or keeping the statutable terms,) and of entertaining the King and liis suite at Trinity Lodge. The visit of another great personage, the Duke of Somerset, gave Vice Chancellor Grigg, the Duke's chaplain, who had been so notably out- mancEUvred in the Professorship business, an opportunity of annoying Bentley in a small way, by bringing his patron to Trinity Lodge at a most vuiseasonable and unexpected time of the morning, without any previous announcement, so as to surprize the Master in his dressing- gown, in the agony of preparation fpr the royal guest. It Avould require the imagination and the pencil of a Hogarth to poiirtray how the proud Duke must have looked, and how the INIaster of Trinity looked, and how Dr. Grigg must liave enjoyed his sullen apologies and angry confusion. Not content with this, the duty of conducting his Majesty from St. Mary's to Trinity College devolving upon Grigg, as Vice- Chancellor, he, under some pretence or other, led the King to a back gate, which had been closed to keep out the mob, and kept his anointed sovereign standing in a most filthy and unsavoury lane till intelligence of the matter could be conveyed to the great gate, where the IMaster was waiting in due form to receive his illustrious visitor. If all this was intended to make Bentley appear awkward in the royal presence, it was luisuccessfid ; for the King, declining to partake of the magnifi- cent banquet laid out in Hall, dined privately with a few Noblemen at the Lodge, as if he had rather be Bentley 's guest than the University's. The Doctor was afterwards complained of for monopolizing the honour of the royal visit, but considering the sentiments of some of the leading characters in Cambridge, it is no wonder that King George should keep aloof from indiscriminate society there. This concerted chapter of accidents was but the omen of more serious misunderstandings. Next day, October 7th, a congregation was held in the Senate-house to finish the creation of the Royal Doctors, of whom only three, Grigg, Davies, and Waterland, as Heads of Houses, had been made in the royal ])rescnce, just to let the King sec how it was done. Bentley refused to perform his office, except at the unusual rate of a four guinea fee. Many candidates demurred. Our Professor would not DR. RIC'HAKD BENTLEY. ] H) act, except on his own coiMlitions. It was iuIlmI tliat his airc-iicy was not indispensable. Dr. IJanlsey Fisher, IMaster of Sidney, jtronipted by the Beadle, performed, for the old rej^ulation fee of a broad piece, cer- tain forms which were to qualify certain persons to write D.D. after their names, to wear a scarlet gown over a black coat, and to hold a plu- rality of bejiefices. When it is considered that a Doctor's detjree is cither a mere luxury, or thequalitication for considerable emolument ; that these royal Doctors were, after all, considerable savers in time, toil, and j)ocket, by the King's visit, which must have caused the Regius Professor a great expense in all three ; and that the mere operation of (pialifying them for pluralities, must have taken up many hours of Bentley's ^t the ripe age of thirty-six, the future biographer of Cicero first appeared as an author. Shakspeare's maiden essay was a scurrilous l)allad, — ^liddleton's was "A full and im- partial account of all the late proceedings in the University of Cambridge against Dr. Bentley." He possessed the talent of being severe without being sciurilous : he did not call names (a practice to Mhich his adver- sary was unfortunately addicted, both viva voce and in print), and if he did not always conceal his malice, he never betrayed his irascibility. He took advantage of the alarm felt by certain persons at the pros])ect of a royal visitation, t(» impute the report of such a movement to Bentley's presumption, if not the design to his insinuations. The passage is as follows: — " But even this will hardly seem strange from him who dares 152 DR. RICHARD BENTLEY. to give out that tlie King and liis INIiuistry Mill interpose to reverse our statutable proceedings against liini ; that for the sake of a single person so justly odious, so void of all credit and interest amongst us, his Majesty will set a mark of his displeasure upon his famous and loyal University. But it is to be hoped that an insolence so aj)pareutly tend- ing to alienate the affections of his people from his Majesty, may meet with the just severity and chastisement of the law." Contrary to his inclination, Conyers complimented his antagonist, and prophesied the de- feat of his own party in a single sentence — " He has ceased to be Doctor, and may cease to be Professor, but he can never cease to be Bentley." The literary warfare continued during 1719. Middleton produced a second and a third pamphlet. These and all the others published in the course of tlie controversy were anonjonous ; and as ]\Iiddleton was a new writer, poor Colbatch, M-hose fate it was to bear the l)lanie of others' lampoons, received for a time the credit or discredit of his compositions. So violent was the excitement of the controversy, and so deep the mutual hatred of the parties, that the most improbable rumours found credit ; and the antagonists of Bentley scrupled not to impute to his partisans the purpose of assassination. It was currently reported that Dr. Gooch was shot at through a window of his lodge, and more than hinted whence the bullet came. In some recent repairs of Caius College, a bullet was actually found in the wainscot. Of course it is not intended to ascribe to Bentley any privity to a murderous design ; but if he or Ashenhurst extended })atronage to many such men as Joseph Lindsay, it is not impossible that some of them may have taken this unwarrantable mode of displaying gratitude. Meantime, Colbatch, and the other Bemonstrants in Trinity, were suffering all the miseries of hope deferred. It does not appear that they had taken any part in the decisive proceedings of the University against their Master ; and perhaps they had not much reason to rejoice at his degradation, which did not diminish his power over them, and was very unlikely to mollify his exercise of it. Archbishop Wake was, indeed, a true, but not an efficient friend ; for he seems to have been a righteous Bishop ; and the Chui-ch, though it has the opportunity of purchasing great interest by leaguing with the government, has very little authority of its proper own. The Minister, Lord Sunderland, and the Chancellor, Lord Parker (afterwards Earl of Macclesfield), deceived them with fair words. All this while their petition was, as it were, in a state of sus])ended animation, in Sir Edward Northey's pocket. After three years, it M-as resuscitated by the persevering representations of Colbatch, read at the Council board a second time on the 26th of May, and referred to the Conunittee. 1)K. IMCIIAIif) IJKNTLKV. ].-,;{ The R«tj'jil Visitatidii Mas daily expecti'd, and tlic liujx's of tlu- inal- coiitents bewail t(i revive, wlicn Beiitley, by a stroke of policy wliicli may sliare the cuiiiiiiendatioii bestowed on the unjust steward, cut the ground from beneath them, and at once redoubled their cause of conij)laint and deprived them of their last apparent chance of redress. We have already mentioned the ])ro])osal for a com])ronn*so with Serjeant IMiller, and its rejection. That learned lawyer having stund)led into the ill graces of the University, ^here he was as little beloved, and nothing like so much feared, as Bentley himself, seeing those Bills, on the strength of \i liicli he had exj)ressed such premature and offensive exult- ation, j)ostponed sine die, seeing his own blunders exposed bv the ex-doctor's formidable pen in a manner not at all conducive to his ])rofes- sional advancement, in tine, having failed in a frivrdous prosecution of Walker for sonie unintelligible illegality with regard to taking a pupil, began to consider that as revenge was not to be had, money was nr)t to be despised. The re-appearance of the Petition produced a rene\»al of overtures on the part of Bentley, \jhich found iMiller in the humour of Shylock, when, finding that tlie bond did not allow him any blood, he offers to take liis principal. In this extraordinary treaty it was consi- dered that the Serjeant, on condition of receiving half his dues as a Fellow since 1715, together with his room rent, and £400 for his law expenses, should resign his Fellowship, and withdraw both his own petition, and that of Colbatch. To make the College pay tlie lawyer for l)etraying its cause Mas a bold thought, but Bentley's design Mas bolder still. He demanded of the college, payment of his omii costs, and by the college they were paid. At the very time Mhile Bentley had not a degree in the University, when a decided interposition of Government was looked for to put a stop to the blended anarchy and despotism of his rule, he succeeded in extorting £500 for the charges of his defence. This was effected through the agency of Baker, mIio gained over a majority out of the total list of Fellows, by which the resistance of five out of the eight seniors was overborne. The pretence Mas that such payment was the only means of restoring peace. Miller Ment off Mith £528 of the college money, to which perhaps he M'as legally entitled, had he not forfeited all claim on his clients by treacherously abandoning their cause. Though no longer an honest man, he continued a Whig, and became member for a borough, in Mhich honourable capacity he distinguished himself, l)y speaking, in 17-5, against the bill for enabling Loril Bolingbroke, mIio had been attainted, to succeed to the fannly inheritance, after he had received the King's pardon. Though this partial reversal of the attainder Mas advocated by Walj)ole himself, ^liller's opposition seen)s not to have displeased the INIinistry, for shortly after u 154 r>P^- RICHARD BENTT.EY. he was appointed one of the Barons of tlie Exchequer for Scotland. Enough of him, and his rewards, and honours. And now the prospects of Trinity College, at least of the discontented party in it, were worse than ever, for there was no chance of obtaining a Visitor from the Crown, since the petition ^ras withdrawn from the council, and as the Bishop of Ely refused to act in that capacity, though informed by Colbatch and Aylotfe, of all the circumstances of the bar- gain with iMiller, and the ^Master's extraordinary demand, there was even less prol)al)ility of his departing from his secure neutrality in any possible emergence. Wake, their only friend, had no longer the power to assist them ; and it was the understood intention of the Court to screen the Master. Passing over some minor events at Cambridge, we will proceed to sive a brief account of a new series of litigations, in which the triumphs of Bentley were such as to inspire a belief in the superstitious, that the demon of law-suits was his familiar spirit. The sole consolation and only hope of his late prosecutors was in the press, and to the press they appealed, not quite despairing of shaming the superior powers into interference. INIiddleton was the chosen champion, for his popular style made his services the most eftective, while his situation protected him from all apprehension of Bentley's wrath. With the assistance of Colbatch's memorials he produced a keen invective, entitled " A true account of the present state of Trinity College, in Cambridge, under the oppressive Government of their Master, Richard Bentley, late D.D." Of the spirit of this composition the motto, taken from one of Cicero's orations against Verres, is at once an omen and a sample : — " Prcrter- mittam minora omnia quorum simile forsitan alius quoque aliquid aliquando fecerit : nihil dicani nisi singnlare ; nisi quod si in alium reum diceretur incredibile videretur."'^ The book was in strict accor- dance Avith this promise. It was, what it was intended to be, a libel, whether true or false, upon Bentley. But it also proved, what it was not intended to be, a libel on the King's Government. Bentley, who fixed an inevitable eye on the errors of his opponents, directly perceived his advantage. In the absence of Colbatch, at whose door, as usual, the libel was laid, he procured, notwithstanding the opposition of Ayloffe, Jordan, and Bouquet, the signature of the college to a ready made cen- sure of the book and his author, and a power of attorney under the college seal, to prosecute the said author, its printers and publishers. * " I will pass overall lesser matter, whereto possibly at some time or other, some Tjerson or other may have done something somewhat similar. I will mention nothing but what is unique; nothing but what, if alleged against any other criminal, would appear incredible." i)i;. i;i( ii.\i;i) bknti.kv. 155 Having accniiijtiished this jturposo, he ]»r(i|)(tsc(l to roniovo CnHjatcli from tlic sfiiiurity, a measure in whicli he was supported by tlie crazy Bral)oiirn and the uucoiistientious Baker ; but Modd and Barwell, thouf^di they had little courage, had still some conscience, and refused to particijjate in the oppression of a friend and brother, whose character they probably admired for the very points in which it differed from their own. Defeated in this design, he conunencod an action against Bicker- ton, the ])ublisher. This produced an innnediate avowal of authorship by IMiddleton, who also would have added to his confession the articles of accusation, drawn u]) by Colbatch to be laid before a Visitor, but the bookseller declined publishing what might be considered another lil»el. He could, therefore, only declare that he was the author of the work ; that his sole purpose in writing it was to bring about a Visitation ; and that he was ready, should the ^IMaster or any of his friends answer it in print, cither to defend every allegation, or publicly to recant. But Bentley had observed a passage in the book which served his ends much better than a paper controversy, or even a public recantation. At page 5 of the " True Account " were these words : — " ^Vhile the liberty of Englislnnen is so much the envy of other nations and the boast of her own, and the meanest ])easant knows Mhere to find redress for the least grievance he has to complain of, it is hardly credible that a body of learned and worthy men, oppressed and injured daily in every thing that is dear and valuable to them, should not be able to find any proper court of justice in the kingdom that will receive their complaints." At this day, these words would scarcely be deemed libellous. They were rather aimed at the Bish(»}) of Ely, or the King's ^linisters, than at the Courts of Law, if indeed they were any thing more than an exclamation of indignant suqirise at the unfortunate position in Mhich Trinity College was placed by the uncertainty of tlie Visitatorial power. But at that time the Courts were exceedingly jealous of their jurisdic- tion. An information was laid against Conyers iMiddleton in the King's* Bench, on the joint behalf of tlie King and Richard Bentley. This Mas at the beginning of 1720. The law's delay protracted the trial for a year and a half. In Trinity term, 1721, the cause was tried in the Court of King's Bench, and Dr. Middleton found guilty of a libel. Still, judgment was deferred, and Conyers kept in an agony of suspense, which Bentley, whose resentment was not mitigated by the two pamjddets jndjlished by IMiddleton at the connnencement of this suit, on the project of the New Testament, did not take any means to abridire. To heiirhten his distress, his friends, even those for whose sake he had braved the wrath of one M'ho Mas never to l>e offended witii im- punity, ga\c him little support or countenance. Colbatch alone admi- 156 ni!. lUCHAHl) BENTLEV. iiistered to his iieccssity, exerted himself to procure affithivits in his favour, and sent him fifty pounds, no small donation from a poor clergyman, whose means nuist have l)een cruelly narrowed by the expenses of the college disputes. jMiddleton at times was a})prehensive of a fine bej'ond his means to pay, which would have consigned him to a jail, a comfortable abode even then for the knave that Mould not pay, but a miserable den for the poor man that could not. By the mediation of one of the University representatives, he gained access to some great personage (sii])poscd to be the Lord Chancellor), mIio, being, a man of infinite promise, engaged to mollify the Chief Justice, and j)rocure a lenient sentence. So the term passed away, and the long vacation succeeded, and JMiddleton was still left to suffer jierhaps more than the severest sentence would have inflicted. The uuAvearied Col- batch employed this vacant time in preparing a tract in IMiddleton's favour, to be entitled " The Case of Richard Benfley against Dr. JMid- dleton considered, and a Question arising thereupon discussed ; viz., how far it may be latvful to publish the notorious crimes of any wicked man." But his bookseller shewed the MS. to Counsellor Ketelbey, who pronounced that it would infallibly be accounted a libel, and reminded the bibliopole that " Bentley now knew the Avay into Westminster Hall ;" so the work still remains luiprinted. Dr. IMonk speaks highly of the ability and earnestness of its execution. As there is 7iow no danger of Bentley's ever finding his way into Westminster Hall again, we importune those in whose hands it may be, to give it to the world, at least so much of it as bears upon the liberty of the press in general. As a revision of the libel laws cannot and will not be long deferred, the arguments of the sturdy casuistical Professor may throw some light on a subject of the highest importance, concerning which there is a lament- able want of clear ideas. Tlie bursting of the South sea bubble, which awakened thousands from dreams of countless wealth to the sober certainty of ruin, and exhibited a degree of baseness, falsehood, peculation, and depravity, in high places, which English history has never sincre rivalled, brought about a change of administration. Lord Tov» nsliend, a liberal states- man, clear of all participation in the abominable thing, who had been suj)planted, in \'1\^^), by the intrigues of the Sunderland party, was re- called to the King's councils. Parliament having mitigated the popular resentment by giving up some gross and palpable peculators as examples, thought ]»ro])er to screen the rest by an act of grace. A promise to introtluce a clause which should apply to IMiddleton's case was made and broken by the Lord Chancellor IMacclcsfieJd. The gloomy mouth of November found Conyers again in attendance at the Coiut of Kings I)i;. KirilAkI) BENTLKV. l.-,7 Bench, still tormented with expensive delays, and reduced at last t(» make vain offers of compromise to his prosecutor. P'ailing there, lie directed his own counsel to move for judf^ment uj)on the verdict. Chief Justice Pratt (father to the first Earl of Camden) immediately (»h- served, " that he had lutpeil to hear no nmre of this affair, hut that two Doctors (»f Divinity," (the learned Judge either forf^ot or did not choose to aclvnowled<^e Bentley's degradation) "to avoid the scandal justly given hy such personal quarrels, would have found some way of making it uj) betwceu themselves." At last Middleton was persuaded to admit " that as far as he Jiad offended the law in what he liad (h)ne, he was sorry for it, and asked the ^Master's pardon." Whether such a giiarded apology ought to satisfy the h(»uour of a gentleman, we leave it to the learned in the laws of the Duello to decide. Certainly it did not immediately satisfy the anger of a Divinity professor, nor is the logic of it absolutely irrefragable. If he were only sorry for having offended the Law, it would seem more reasonable that he should apolo- gize to the Court by whom the Majesty of the Law is represented, than to his adversary. Bentley, liowevor, demanded that he should subscribe a paper, owning that he had wronged and abused the whole society. To that IMiddleton would not bend, but moved once more for judgment by his counsel the following day. The Chief Justice, an honest man, animadverted with some severity on the unforgiving and exorbitant temper of Bentley, and sarcastically asked, " Whether the Society would not have the j)aper stuck up at the Exchange, and have Dr. ^liddleton led through Westnn'nster Hall with it printed to his hat." Seeing no chance of obtaining any thing more in the present disposition of the Coiu-t, Bentley con- descended to accept the apology, and the defendent paid the prosecu- tors taxed costs, which perhaps amoiuitcd to more than any fine that %vould have been levied. In order, in some degree, to recompense him for such charge and vexation incurred in their comnum cause, and perhaps likewise to mortify the Divinity Professor, the prevailing part\ in Cambridge established a new office of Prolo-bibliolhccariu/!, or head librarian, to which Dr. IMiddleton was triumphantly promoted, spite of the resistance of Bentley's ])artisans, who called the business a sc;ui- dalous job. The grace was proposed on the 14th of Decendier, 17-1. and carried by a majority of 112 to 40. So high did ])arty spirit run, that the only two members of St. J(»hn's, who voted against the appoint- ment, were hissed all the way from the schools to their own college. Our narrative must now retrogade a little, to record a few incidents that fonned the episodes of this restless drama. Of these, the most refreshing is the defeat of Bentley in an attempt tr, and one of the JMas- ter's noisiest partisans, produced a letter from the Lord Chamberlain, the Duke of Newcastle, stating that Dr. Richard Bentley Mas absent on the King's service. This the Vice-Chancellor was compelled to acknowledge as a sufficient excuse. Proceedings were adjourned to the 16th of February; before M'hich time, the Court of King's Bench granted a rule for the Vice Chancellor to shew cause, &c., on the second day of tlie folloM'ing term, and staying proceedings in the interval. This interference of the Common Law Courts with what the High- Churchmen considered a canonical and spiritual authority, excited great indiirnation, and brought Colbatch into more difficulties than ever. By mere obstinacy, and conceit of his own legal acumen, he had ex])osed the University to something like a public rebuke ; and noM' he set about DR. RICMARIJ HKNTI.F.V. 1(11 to defend it in a way tliat ^ave his and the rniversity's malipiers a lon<;-\vished-for advanta^'e a^'ainst htith. He produced a treatise, entitled Jus AcnHemiciim, whicdi is said to show a deep ac(juaiiitance with the laws and constitutions of academic establishments, and an ahle defence of their necessary rights and j)rivileges. Unfortiuiately, Col- batch understood — at least had studied — the Canons, Decretals, and Pandects much better than the laws of his native land. Not so had Jientley, as the secpiei shewed. lie simply directed his counsel to read certain passages of the Jus Academicum before the Court of King's Bench, and to move them to tiike cognizance of contempt of their jui-isdiction. Among the most offensive was the following: — "There is a strange doctrine got into Westminster Hail, where it hath prevailed for above these hundred years past, as it is like to do for these luuidred years to come, unless my lords the Bishops shall think tit to take notice of it in Parliament, viz. : that the King's pardon shall put a stop to any process carried on in the spiritual courts, for the reform- ation of manners, and the salvation of a man's soul." This was enough to alarm the Lords Justices, who were then, and ever, extremely jealous of any atten)pt to set up the authority of the spiritual courts against their own. But other sentences hinted at the possibility of resistance on the part of the Universitj-, and seemed to accuse the King's Government of evil designs against liberty. Yet so little aware was the author of his Mork containing any thing libellous, that he had sent a presentation copy to every judge on the bench, except Pratt and Fortescue. i\Iost likely they never read it. A rule of court was granted for Wilkin, the publisher, to shew cause why an attachment should not issue against him. As the interrogato- ries to which the person attached would be subjected would oblige him to discover the author, Colbatch's friends bestirred themselves to make intercession for him with the great. Dean Sherlock and Dean Hare used their interest with L(»rd Townshend ; and Dr. P'reind, IMaster of Westminster School, applied to Lord Carteret. The ^Ministers seem to have really wished to do their best for him ; but, mduckily, Colbatch, who was in every thing the victim of Fortune and his own mistakes, relied chiefly on the Lord Chancellor, m ho, while sustaining him with hope and fair words, was actually cooling liis friends and heating his enemies. Had Earl ]Macclestield, however, been sincere in his good offices, it is doubtful whether they could have done the unfortunate divine any real service. Pratt was an inflexible judge, possessed with a high sense of the sanctity of his own oHice, and a just apprehension of government interference. Tlu- ^linisters, indeed, promised nuich. Lord Carteret, in particular, told Dr. Freind, that, '* if the Doctor X l(JO DR. RICHARD BENTLF.Y. (Colbatch) were sent to prison, here — (brandisliing liis pen) — here is ]\Iercury's wand, Mhich will soon fetch him out." Gradually this tone of assurance Mas exchanged for a style of cautious admonition. For some cause, or for none, the treacherous IMacclesfield M'ilfully misadvised him ; and the sole effect of his weary and tantalizing attendance on these true courtiers was, to exasperate the minds of Pratt and the other justices of the King's Bench against him. At length, on the 14th of ]\Iay, 1723, he moved the court for judgment, was committed pro forma, and, after little more than a week's confinement, was brought up to petition for his discharge ; whereupon Sir Littleton Powis, the senior puisne judge, made an exposure of combined ignorance, pedantry, and insolence, that must have set gravity at defiance. The motto of the Jus Academicum was that everlastingly-(iuoted scrap of Horace, — Jura negat sibi nata, nihil von arrogat, — which the i<«learned judge chose to read nihil non ABrogat, and insisted upon it that it was meant to apply to the court. Colbatch would have done well had he suffered his Lordship to proceed without correction ; for by arguing the point, and repeatedly contradicting Sir Littleton on the very seat of justice, he became guilty of a contempt, and instead of one mark, which would originally have satisfied the court, he incurred a fine of £50. While Bentley was thus revenging himself on one of his enemies, another furnished him with kn opportunity of like satisfaction, by a course exactly similar. IMiddleton, in quality of chief librarian, had written a Latin tract upon the method of arranging the public library, and especially the books contained in the King's magnificent present, a subject seemingly as safe as any author could handle. But the hatred of Bentley was then the ruling principle of all JMiddleton's thoughts, words, and works. Unearned by the example of Colbatch, he intro- duced into his dedication a passage explicitly denying the authority of the common law courts to override the academical courts, and implicitly calling the King's Bench forum prorsus alienum et externum, a court altogether strange and foreign. It was not to be expected that this would escape the critical eye of Bentley, or the animadversions of his Majesty's justices. On the very day (IMay 14th) on which Colbatch moved for judgment. Sergeant Cheshyre moved for an information against JMiddleton's bookseller. The same process which the King and Richard Bentley had been conducting against Colbatch, was repeated against Middleton, with the same result, but with far less delay and mortification ; for Conyers learned, at his friend's cost, not to trust in courtiers' promises, nor to degrade himself by fruitless solicitations. He was accordingly committed for five days, brought up 1)11. rUCIIARD BKNTLKY. 163 on the 20tli of June, tiiied 11,~A), and discharged, after giving securities for his good behaviour for a twelvemonth. While Bentley's enemies were thus smarting under the lash of the law, he was successfully availing himself of the same mighty pfjwer to recover the station of which he had been deprived. It would Ijc tedious to relate the details of the suit, which terminated in a complete reversal of all the University proceedings against the JMaster of Trinity. On the 14th of February, 1724, a peremptory mandamus was issued to the Chancellor, IMasters, and scholars, " to restore Richard Bentley to all his degrees, and to every other right and privilege of which they had dej)rived him." Thus was it decreed, that every attempt to bring that uncoiupicrable man to accoinit for his deeds, should end in the distress and discomfiture of his adversaries, and afford to himself the gratification of a triumi)hant dis])lay of great and various abilities. The natural effect of this extraordinary success must have been to remove from his mind every shade of doubt M'ith respect to the recti- tude of his cause, and to encourage him to proceed boldly as he had begun. Six law suits prosecuted to a successful issue within three years, ^vere enough to make any man, not endowed with a double ])or- tion of humility, fancy himself the minion of Justice. Yet he was not quite satisfied with the length of time during Mliich the doubts of lawyers and the uncertainty of the law had deferred his victory. Not- withstanding that the greater part of the costs had fallen on his anta- gonists, his own share was more than he found it convenient to pay. His feelings on this head lie expressed, sua more, the first jussizes after his restoration, Mhen the judges visited Trinity Lodge, and one of them observed, "Dr. Bentley, you have not thanked us for what we have done for you." The Doctor answered, " What am I to thank you for .'' Is it for only doing me justice after a long protracted lawsuit ? Had you indeed restored me to my rights at once, I might have expressed my obligations ; but such have been your delays, that if I had not been an economist in my youth, I must have been ruined in the pursuit of justice." The judge nuist have felt that he was not on the bench. The events of the four years succeeding 1724 are neither numerous nor important. Though it can hardly be said that even temporary tran- quility j)re\ ailed, Colbatch himself seems to have despaired of successful resistance. He Mithdrew to his Rectory at Orwell, and doubtless lived in hope of better times. The restored Professor, whose public functions had been discontiinied during the suspension of his degrees, now entered upon the duties of his Professorship with zeal, and took a leading part in the University politics, presided at the theoliigical 1(;4 ni{. KU II \i;ii Bi-.N'i'i.KV. disputations, and appearod frequently iu tlie University pulpit. From these otiic-ea, liowever, lie desi>ted in 1727, and made Dr. NcMCome, the JIarffaret Professor of Divinity, his substitute. His liability to severe colds, tlie consequence of intense study, and neglect of exercise, ren- dered his attendance in the schools extremely dangerous. The years 1724, 2.5, and 2(5, were distinguished by a display of literary rivalry, not wholly unprotitable to the interests of literature, but little becoming the sanctity of two dignified clergymen, one of Avhom had passed his grand climacteric. We have more than once had occasion to mention Di-. Francis Hare, at one time a most fervid admirer and professed friend of our Aristarch ; but the friendships of the ambitious are seldom lasting, and Bentley found, or fancied, occa- sion to suspect Hare of undermining his credit in several instances, and particularly in the business of the Frederician Classics. Still no absolute ruptui-e had taken place; for Bentley cliose, in liis own words, — amicitiam dissuere, non disrumpfyre, — to unstitch, not tear asunder friendship. But the dishonest vanity of Hare gave a pretext for more decisive hostility. During the period of their intimacy, the two scholars had held much conversation on classical subjects, and Bentley, who in all that regards the res melrica is an absolute discoverer, had communi- cated and explained a method of reducing the ai)parent laM lessness of the Latin Comic JMetre to something like regularity. Hare produced an edition of Terence, in which he availed himself of the instruction thus obtained to appropriate the credit of Bentley's metrical discoveries with- (»ut any acknowledgment. This Aristarch considered, not without good grounds, as an invasion of his patent, and, though he might well have spared whatever reputation the plagiarism might detract from him; perhaps he m as not to be blamed for laying claim to his own, especially as his sometime friend and flatterer, had not spared insinuations to the discredit of liis moral character, even while lauding his intellectual qualifications. Bentley's Terence was undertaken with the express purpose of stop- ping the sale and destroying the credit of Hares woik, and though carried through the })ress with almost breathless haste, is said by a high authority to be the most useful, elegant, and accurate of all our critic's editions. The text is corrected in upwards of a tliousand places. Tlie metrical system perfectly (ducidated, and the surreptitious half-know- ledge of Hare exposed with merciless severity. Bentley's triumph would however liave been more complete, had he known wliere to stop. But seeing tliat liis rival had announced an intention of editing Phaedrus, he determined to anticipate him, and published that Fabulist along with DR. i;i( (r\RI) BIINTLEY, 16'> the Terence. For this wdrk lie had uiJuU' no adequate prepaiatiun, imr did he allow liiinsclf time to defend his emendations, w hieli are numer- ous, rash, and dogniatieal, by argument or authority. The crudities of tliis hurried performance gave Hare an opp(»rtunity of retorting in an Epislola critica, cliieHy remarkable for unsaying all the praises whicrh he had himself uttered in the " Clergyman's Thanks." Well might Sir Isaac Newton remark that it Mas a ])ity two s\icli Divines should spend their time in (juarreliing about a play-bouk. Meantin)e Dr. iMiddleton having returned from Italy, revived tlie suit resj)ecting the four guineas in tlie Vice-chancellor's court. It does not a|)pear that Bentley defended tlie action ; the guineas were repaid with twelve shillings costs. The whole proceeding was discreditable to all ])arties concerned. Bishop Fleetwood was now no more ; and his see was held by Bishop Greene. This change gave some faint hopes to the opposition j)arty in Trinity College, for Dr. Greene Mas Avilling to act as Visitor provided that his right m as legally determined, and his expenses guaranteed. Bentley was more absolute than ever. i\Iany of his prosecutors had now joined the ruling party. Modd had been succeeded in the Vice- mastership by Baker. Walker held the poMcr (»f the jnirse ; the iMaster continued to appoint to FelloMships by his omu sole authority, and had recently nominated his own son Richard, though no more than fifteen years of age. With far more reprehensible partiality, he let a college estate, situate in Petergate, York, to his l)rother James, on a lease of tMenty years, upon considerations manifestly insufficient. Yet regardless of the clamour m hich this job excited, he afterM ards renewed the lease to Priscilla Bentley, his brother's M'idoM, for a tine of only X20. But these details are devoid of interest, and it is time that Me j)roceed to the renewal of those hostilities of M-hich these and other mal- versations were the pretext if not the cause. The great odium arising from tlie blaster's alleged ingratitude in refusing a FelloMship to the grandson of his early patron, Stillingfleet, once more put Colbatch in motion. His first application Mas to Gibson, who then filled the see of London, before Mhom he laid a gloM ing Jiccount of the deplorable state of his college, and the urgent necessity for a Visitor. Gibson expressed indignation, but could jiromise no other assistance than his support at the council board, in case of a peti- tion respectably signed. He suggested that the Bishop of Ely nu'ght act as Visitor luider the statutes, leaving it to Bentley, if he pleased, to apply for a prohibition from the Courts at Westminster. But things were not in train for either of these courses. The indefatigable Col- batch next endcavoiu-cd to interest the Dean and Chapter of Wcstmin- 166 DR. RICHARD BENTLEY. ster in the cause, by pointing out certain letters patent, giving a right of preference to Westminster scholars in all elections, the provisions of Avhich had never been fully complied with, and were now utterly disre- garded. But this intrigue, m hich tended to turn Trinity into a close college, came to nothing, except that it procured to the Rector of Orwell the honour of having his health drank at the Westminster anni- versary, in connection with " restoration, to Trinity College." It cannot, indeed, be supposed, that he had any object in the suggestion, but to bring the college affairs luuler discussion, and in this he did not entirely fail. Legal authorities began to doubt the soundness of the opinion given by Queen Anne's lawyers in 1712, M'hich decided that the general power of Visitation had been transferred to the crown by Queen Eliza- beth's statutes. In the latter part of 17^7^ a set of questions were pro- posed to five leading counsel, among whom was Sir Philip Yorke, the Attorney-General. All agreed that King Edward's statute De Visita- tore, was still in force, that by its provisions, the Bishop of Ely was entitled to hold a triennial Visitation, and that the 40th statute of Queen Elizabeth \vas corroborative of the former. While these points were under consideration, the King, George the Second, paid a visit to Cambridge, which was near proving fatal to Bentley. The fatigue of creating fifty-eight D.D.'s of royal appointment brought on a dangerous fever ; but by the strength of his constitution, the medical skill of i\Iead, and a few week's use of the Bath waters, he recovered. This was the last time that Cambridge has been honoured with the presence of royalty, April 25, 1728. The right of the Bishop of Ely being now affirmed to the fullest extent, it Mas determined once more to bring the IMaster of Trinity to his trial. Colbatch laboured with his usual perseverance to promote a petition, but at first could only procure the support of three Fellows, and those Juniors — Parne, Ingram, and IMason, the last a man celebrated for uncouthness of manner, and mathematical proficiency ; these were soon after joined by Johnson, a Fellow of higher standing, to whose merits Bentley had been inattentive. In order to keep their proceedings secret, they held their meeting in Dr. Colbatch's Rectory-house, at Orwell, Mhich thence obtained the name of Rye House. But the plot was not long concealed from Bentley. Knowing his own interest in high places, he determined to anticipate the Fellows with a petition, in which he described their design as a con- spiracy to deprive the crown of the Visitatorial right. To this docu- ment, spite of the opposition and protests of Colbatch and his party, who raised a tumult in the chancel, the college seal was affixed. It M^as presented to the King, at Hampton Court, by commissary Greaves, who DR. RICHARD HKNTLI.V. 167 aftfi-wai-ds becaino Bcntley's main U'f>;al adviser. Tlie Fi-llows ])re- seiitod couiiter-pi'titioiis, and urged the Bislioj) of Ely to a visitation. The Bishoj) petitioned the Privy Council to be heard in support of the rights of his see. Bentley's counsel prayed for postponement, and so 1 72{{ past away. The commencement of 1729, brought fortli a pamphlet from Bcntley, and a reply from Colbatch. In INIarch, the cause came to a hearing before the Privy Council, wh(» determined that tlieycovild not advise the King to interfere in the matter, but that the Bishop was at lil)erty to act accordinf Walker. But he seems to have been ill qualified to co2)e with such adversaries. lie liesitated till the Par- liament broke up. A])])lication to the House of Lords, whicli, in main- taining his rights, would have asserted its own, became, for the jtresent, impossible. Perhaps, after all, the ])rclate was satisfied with having done what he could call his best;, and was not anxious to drive tlie famous old man from his lioiiie. There is something in dauntless perseverance, however exercised, that overawes tlie weak, and gains the respect of tlie noble. Yet, after an interval of inonths, in Jaiiuarv, 173^, the Bishop did send his mandate to Dr. Walker, but ^^^llker did not even acknowledge the receipt of it. Colbatch, as senior Fellow, called to enquire whether the Vice-INIaster had done his duty, but he could not extort a reply. The prosecutors, having learned from dire experience all that Westminster Hall would do for them, resolved, contrary to the natural and legal advice of counsel, to seek justice direct from the House of Peers. But whether from informality in the form of their petition, or disinclination on the part of their Lordships to meddle further, the debate ended M'ith leave being given — that the petition be AvithdraAvn. Before the next step could be determined on, a compromise took place between Bentley and several of the prosecu- tors, which left Colbatch to carry ou the war, if he were so disposed, with his own resources. Smith was now his sole confederate: yet hostilities did not inunediately cease. Three mandamuses were obtained against Walker, and all three ((uashcd ; the last, on April 22(1, 1738, iew will care how, or why. It is probable that Colbatch Mould not yet have desisted, but a final close was ])ut to the contest by the decease of Bishop Greene (iMay 28), who died like his predecessor, jMoore (though after a much greater interval), witlmut seeing his authority confirmed by the execution of his sentence. From this time Bentlev, if not triumphant, was seciu-e. And thus ended the ten years' war, which, like other wars, had been ruinously expensive, having cost the college, on the ]Mastei*'s account alone, nearly £4000, or double its annual income. How Colbatch and the other prosecutors sttiod it out, is hard to say ; — and still stranger, that the INIaster of Trinity, as Archdeacon of Ely, should have thought proper to sue the Rector of Orwell for three shillings and sixpence. Colbatch defended the suit, but lost, and consoled himself with writing a book to prove that he ought to have won. Ur. Monk has read it ! ! ! Having thus brought the history of our subject's litigations to au 172 »i;. RICIIAKJ) BKNTLKV. end, we must brieriy mention that, tluring these latter years, he was engaged in two great works, one of which he never tinislied, and the other he had done well never to begin. These were liis Homer, and his Paradise Lost. First, of the hitter. His design of restoring Milton originated in 1731, and was completed on the lirst day of the following year, and is said to have been suggested by Queen Caroline. He executed it with liis usual reckless aiidacity, and not without a portion of his usual ingenuity. But between Bent- ley editing Horace, and Bentley editing Milton, there is a wide difference. Of ancient poetic genius he perhaps knew as little as of English, — as little as any body else ; but of the Greek and Latin languages he knew more than all men of his time, — of the English language not much more tlian any tolerably educated Moman. To English criticism, therefore, he bro\ight his defects without his excel- lence. In commenting on the ancient classics, he brought so much colla- teral knowledge, and discovered so many acute analogies in defending his alterations, that his very errors were instructive. But for applying his hook to Milton he made no such amends. His acquaintance with early European literatiu-e was scanty ; he was little, if at all, versed in modern foreign tongues. The romantic and allegorical compositions of the middle ages Avere out of his track of reading ; nor was he deeply imbued with that Hebrew lore, through which ]Milton derived his highest inspirations. Of the Rabbinical writings he probably knew absolutely nothing. He was therefore incompetent to the task of illus- trating Milton, and had no particular aptitude for correcting him. Yet his egregious failure in this instance ought not to detract from the fair fame he earned in provinces more peculiarly his own. As no conceivable errors of hand or press could justify such devia- tions from an established text, as he was determined to venture upon, he protected his nuitatious excisions and interpolations by the hypo- thesis of a reviser or amanuensis, who had availed himself of Milton's blindness to do, what Dr. Bentley was then doing, to make alterations, ad libitum, and to publish his own forgery as the genuine production of the j)oet. This critical fiction of Bentley's has excited more moral indignation than the case called for. No deception was produced, and none could have been intended. It M'as only an exorbitant piece of impudence. As Homer was blind as well as Milton, the same sort of an editor Mould have served to screen whatever castigations, extrusions, or intrusions, the slashing critic tliought necessary, in order to make the Iliad just m hat Homer ought to have made it. These would not have been a icw, for he proposed to reject all lines that would not admit the J£olic Diganima Dll. RICHARD BENTLtY, I73 ill every word where that "something frrcatcr yet that hotter"* is ever to be found. Had ho lived to execute this purpose, he \»ouhl doubtless have dis])Iayed great learning, and no small absurdity. Tlie hypothesis seems to be utterly untenable. The pronunciation of language is in continual flux, and at all times there are many words which are uttered, or accented, according to the choice or judgment of individuals, after an older (»r a ncMer fashion. Poets, (especially Mhen and where tliere are no critics,) will use either at discretion, as suits their metre, and r»ften avail themselves of both for the sake of variety. Yet Bentley considered the revived Digainma, as the child of his old age ; and in the l)rief interval between the conclusion of his long struggle, and his death, was fond of discussing the point with those young scholars who came to visit him, as the patriarch of Helenic learning. But the publication of the diganunated Homer was prevented by a ])aralytic affection, which seized the venerable scholar in the course of 17'M), just after the appear- ance of his IManilius, a work of his earlier years ; of this, and the Lucau, which was first printed fom-teen years after his death, at the Strawberry-hill press, nothing need be said. Thus have we brought the active life of Bentley to a conclusion. We must be more brief than we could wish in pourtraying his familiar history, though the picture is extremely pleasing. In his domestic relations, Bentley was not oidy blameless, but exem- plary ; and domestic virtue always brings its own reward. \\'liatever brawls disturbed him without, " he still had peace at home/' nor did he carry his despotic rule and contumelious language to his own fire side ; if he called his children names, — they were names of fondness. If he erred, it was in too partial a regard to his kindred or dependents. For forty years he was the affectionate husband of a virtuous wife, who never had reason to conijilain that his controversies or his hnv-suits had soured his temper, JMrs. Bentley Avas the mother of four childi'en, of whom one died in his infancy. Richard, the surviving son, discovered such luicommon talents, that he was entered at Trinity College at ten and made Fellow at fifteen. He Mas bred to no profession, and suffered severely in after life from neglect of economy. Elizabeth, the eldest daughter, married IMr. Humphrey Ridge, of Hampshire, and in less • Of the Digainma nothing is settled, after all the learning that has been employed about it, except that its form is that of a Roman F, though sometimes it rather resembled G, and that it was either a W or a V, or something between both. It is only found on some old marbles, and on coins of the Creek town of Velia, in Italy. However pronounced it must luue been an ottencc to the car. The Greeks were right in dropping it, and we are wrong in puzzling about it. ]74 DR- KICHARD BENTLEY. thau a year, Mas a widow. Joanna, who married IMr. Dennison Cum- borlaiid, and l)ocanio mother to Cuniherhmd, the dramatist, was a Jteauty I'l-lebrated from her very infanc}."' After IMrs, Bcntley's death, both lior (hmgliters sj)ent much time in tlie h>dge, and su})ported by filial attentions, such as only a daughter can render, the declining years of their father, who s])ent the evening of his long and stormy day as peacefully as if all his life had been gentleness. The author of the JVcsf Indian gives a most charming account of his grandfather in old age, tliough Bentlcy died Avhcn Cundjerland was but ten voars old. Between old age and childhood there is a strong and holy sympathy; nor is there the least reason to suspect Cumberland's picture of false colom-ing, because he is not always accurate in facts and dates. The favourite conn)anion of the great Critic, in his latter years, was the faithful Walker, with whom he used to smoke his pipe, (a habit he only indulged in after his seventieth year,) and discussed his port, a liquor for which he entertained an orthodox respect, ^hile he expressed an anti-gallican contempt for claret, saying that it ivould be port if it could. He continued to the last to amuse himself with reading, occasionally shewing pictiu-e books to his grandchildren, ne\'er harshly correcting them when their noisy gambols interrupted his stiulies. Such at least are the reminiscences of his grandson, and it is good for the heart to ])elievc them. But we nuist hasten to a close. Bentley is said to have had a presen- timent that he should reach his eightieth year, and not exceed it. "It was an age long enough," he would remark, " to read every thing worth reading." Et ttmc 7iiagna mei sub terris ibit Imago. In January, 1742, he completed his eightieth year. In June he was well enough to ])reside at the examination for University scholar- ships ; shortly after he was seized w ith a brain fever, and on the 14th of July, 1742, he expired. He was the first (»f Critics, and might have been among the first of men, if he could have endured contradiction. * The pretty pastoral, published in the 8th volume of the Spectator, My time, Oh ye shepherds, was hapj)ily spent, When Phabe went with nie wherever 1 went, is said to have been composed by Byrom, then a young B.A. of Trinity, in honour of Jug Bentley, (as Aristarchus used to call his darling child,) when she was but eleven years old. Some prudent mothers, and still more Aunts, will look grave at the pub- lication of such a compliment to so very young a lady, but we never could learn that Miss Joanna was the worse for it. THOMAS LORD FAIRFAX. Ix iiarratiiiij tlie lives (tf Lord Fairfax, and tlic famous Earl of Derby, we shall have oeeasioii tn redeem I Al It FAX. 177 tiiiii' before it surrendered. In this service he received a severe wound in the face from a splinter of a French INIarshal's skull. He was slain in 1()04. Sir Thomas Fairfax, brother of the poet, created, A.D. Ui'iJ, liaron Fairfax, of Cameron, in the Kingd the wisdom of his ancestors. To have doubted of the existence of witclus, would thou have exposed him to the imputation of atheism ; and as certain disorders were uniformly attributed to diabolical agency, an anxious parent might be excused for mistaking the symptoms in his own oftspring. We need not doubt that he spoke sincerely, when he said, in this very treatise, " For myself, I am in religion neither a fantastic Puritan, nor a superstitious Papist ; but so settled in conscience, that 1 have the sure ground of (iod's Word to warrant all 1 biliexo, and the commendable ordinances of our English church to approve all I practice; in which course I live a faithful Christian and an obedient subject, and so teach my family." We trust that none will object to these notices of a poet, who, though too little known to be the subject of a separate article, is nevertheless, one of the Yorkshire i) art hies. 178 LORD FAIRFAX. sometime at St. Jolin's College, Cambridge, to wliicli he was afterwards a benefactor, and acquired a love of learning mIucIi never forsook him, and made hini, in some of the darkest passages of the civil war, an intercessor for learned books and learned men. He is stiid to have been deeply versed in the history and antiquities of England, a line of study which for the most part disposes the mind to an almost superstitious reverence for royalty. On Fairfax it does not seem immediately to have taken this effect, though perhaps it had its weight before the close of his career. The long peace, which James the First so prided himself in preserv- ing, was unable to extinguish the warlike quality of English blood. The noble youth sought action in foreign campaigns; and many of lower grade, or desperate fortunes, adventurers Avho had spent all, " younger sons of younger brothers, and the like," " cankers of a calm world," adopted, in countries not their own, the mercenary trade of war, which perhaps after all, is neither more sinful nor less honourable, than the gentlemanly profession of arms. At least it has as much of " the dig- nity of danger." But it is a great neglect in the policy of any state to suffer its subjects, at their omu discretion, to adopt a foreign service ; and a great error in a monarch, to keep his dominions so long in peace, that the art military is forgotten, and the military habits of uncondi- tional obedience, and undeliberative execution become obsolete. " No Bishop, no King," was the favourite maxim of the Rex Pacijicus. " No Soldier no King," is the doctrine of historic experience. IMonarchy, at least the feudal monarchy, established on the downfall of the Roman Empire, is an institution essentially military. A crown is a bauble without a helmet ; the true sceptre is the sword. Under the feudal system, the whole constitution of society was military ; all rank was military ; to bear arms was the distinction of free-birth, to be a layman of peace, was to be a churl, a knave, a villain, a slave. While this system continued in vigoiu', the pride of heraldry retained a meaning, and the throne was respected as the fountain of honour even when the king was persecuted, deposed, or assassinated. But when the constitution of general society grew pacific, it became necessary that the power of the sword should centre in permanent bodies, more imme- diately devoted to the sovereign, wherein by an obvious and intelligible necessity the monarchical jjrinciplc is preserved untainted, and which may supply at once a safe cliannel for the ambition of enterprising youth, and a regular occupation for those unruly natures among the common- alty, for whom the ordinary restraints of civil life are as insufficient, as the engagements of humble industry are irksome, those choice spirits, in a word, that Mould rather fight than work. The policy, perhaps the LORD FAIRFAX. 179 religion of tlio First James, (for there appears no good grouml for suspecting him of disgraceful cowardice, and the strongest reason for iKdieving, that amid all his strange vanity and vicious infatuations, he still retained a conscience,) made him averse to uar : the interests of the nati(»n, (considered as distinct from those of the monarch,) allowed and required j)eace, and the learned King fondly imagined that by maintaining the monarchical ])rinciple in the church, he was raising around the throne a host of bloodless champions, who would secure the allegiance of the nation by all the fears of eternal piuiishment; not con- sidering that, while he bound the Hierarchy to himself, he was setting them at an incommunicable distance from the people, and leaving a gap, for the disaffected, who were sure to make a dangerous use of the favour and attenti(»n which the multitude always bestow on those who persuade them that they are not taught or governed as they shouUl l)e. He found the church di\ ided into two parties, and thought by his regal authority, to give the victory to the anti-popular side. Thus he hastened the schism mIucIi might yet have been pre\ ented ; arrayed all tlie discontent of the country against the doctrines m hich he patronized, gave to the demagogue preachers the speciem libertatis, the shew of freedom and the glory of daring, and brought upon the court ecclesiastics the odium of Hatterers and sclf-seekers. The best arguments of the Arminians and Prelatists were disregarded, because they had too visible an interest in their tenets, while the wildest declamation of the Puritans passed for Gospel, because they declaimed at the risk of their ears. JMeanwhile the youth and valour of the kingdom engaged as volun- teers in the contests of Holland, France, and Germany were imbilting j)rinciples, and accpiiring habits, by no means favourable to the state of things which the King was desirous to establish and uphold. Even the few expeditions undertaken by command, or Mith the countenance of the state, were all in behalf of revolted nations ; and the assistance afforded to the United Provinces, to the French Hugonots, and to the German Protestants, was a jiractical acknowledgment of the right of resistance. The alliance of France with the insurgent AnuM-icaiis con- tributed not more to the French i-e volution, than the alliance of England with the continental Protestants to the temporary suspension of English monarchy. The Dutch, adopting a republican government, consistently adopted a presbyterian church ; and though the German Lutherans retained the name of Episcopacy, the Lutheran Bishop fell so far short of the wealth, pomp, aristocratic rank, and apostolical pre- tensions of the English prelate, as to l)ear a much nearer resemblance to the plain, if not hvnnble Presbyter. There were no doubt very good and sufficient reasons for the difference, but they are not reasons likely to ]gO LOKJ) FAIRFAX. / occur to a young man, w hose slender stock of tlieol(»gy was derived from Scripture and his own unlearned judgment, not perhaps wholly unhi-- ased hy that love of novelty, Mhich is as endemic a disease of youth as poetry or love. And the hot-blooded gallants^ who cared for none of these things, at all events lost some of their attachment to ancient cus- tom ; the line of their associations was broken ; if on their return, they proved ever so loyal, they were lawless in their loyalty : and under all suppositions, they had been habituated to separate the idea of military from that of civil obedience ; to obey, Avhere they owed not a subject's allegiance, and to command, without their sovereign's commission. Thus the country was stocked m ith soldiers of fortune, whose know- ledge of the technicals of war, though perhaps not very profound, or extensive, was formidable to a government, which, busying itself with matters far better left to the decision of public opini(»n, had neglected to maintain that military strength and science, without which, no regal government can be secure. We have hazarded these observations, not with an intent of entering into the causes, or detailing the progress of that civil war in which our subject bore so conspicuous a part, but because these circumstances belong as it were to the education of young Fairfax's mind ; and because the operation of foreign service upon the martial spirit of the gentry has not been sufficiently taken into the account by those who have treated of this extraordinary period. Fairfax inherited the warlike tendencies of his ancestors, sought for opportunities of distinction as a volunteer in Holland, luider the com- mand of Horatio Lord Vere,* with Mhom also the Earl of Essex, and other of the Parliamentary chieftains, were instructed in martial affairs. It was j)robal)ly during his campaigns, that Fairfax became acquainted with his future w ife, Anne, fourth daughter of the Lord Vere, who was educated in Holland, and there contracted religious sentiments which made her have " less veneration for the church of England than she ought to hare had." It is sui)i)osed that her zeal for the Presbyterian cause had great influence on her husband's subsequent conduct. Perhaps she told him when to stop, but not till too late. Returning to England in 1634, or 1635, he married, and retired to his father's seat in Yorkshire. And * This Horatio was fourth son of John de Vere, fifteenth Earl of Oxford, of that family; and by King Charles I., Anno 1625, was advanced to the title of Lord Vere, of Tilbury. He long served in Holland, with groat valour and reputation, jointly with his brother, the brave Sir Francis Vere, governor of the Briel. In 1620, Sir Horatio commanded the expedition sent to the assistance of the Elector Palatine. It was about 1632 or 16.33, that Fairfax served under him, and was at the taking of Bois le Due from the Spaniards." Kippis. I.OKI) I'AIRI'AX. lol fnun this time mc Iiciir little of him, till the hrcaking out of the war in ]fi42. With a wife who had learned her religion and politics in the Duteh Rei)ul)lir, and a father "actively and zealously disatleeted to the King," he jlid not long hesitate in clntosing his side, but gave tlic henetit of his valoiu-, which was great, an:, and whose motions intersected the (•rmntr}, aii«l e\cii tlicii, unless tlie nature of the ground were faithfully depicted, uhicli cannot be done in words, no ade(juate judgment couhl Ix- formed. Lord Fairfax left behind him " Sliort IMcmorials," not intended for the jml)lic eye, but for the satisfaction of liis own relations, which, never- theless, were j)nblished in lOlM), by JJryan Fairfax, Es(|., to jirevont a surreptitious edition. They are not particularly creditable to his talents as an autobiographer, being written in a lieavy, luigainly style, and inter- spersed with religious phrases, M'hich tliough characteristic of that age, wlien men sang hymns to jigs, and marched to battle to psalm tunes, sound strange to modern ears, amid a recital of blood and rapine. But Fairfax doubtless believed that he was wielding "the sword of the Lord and Gideon," and appears to liave died in the sanie comfortable faith. Unfortunately, these memoirs contain no account of any thing previous to the commencement of the M'ar ; Ix'ginning with a narrative of some petty actions in the autunni of 1G42. His first exploit was driving a small detachment of royalists from Bradford to Leeds, whither in conjunction with captain Hotham, he marched a few days after, and compelled the enemy t(» retire upon York. In order to secure the West Riding, from whence the princi])al supplies were derived, he advanced to Tadciister, with a design to guard the pass of Wetherby, which he maintained against an ineffectual attempt of Sir Thomas Glenham. Cavendish, Earl of Newcastle, and Clifford, of Ciunberland, united their forces at York, to the nimiber of 9000, and resolved to fall on Tadcaster, wliich fort being judged untenable, the Fairfax's, father and son, risked an engagement ; but, notwithstanding the advantage of ground, were worsted, after six liours hard fighting, and withdrew, in the night, to Selby. But the royalists always lost by want of discipline and vigilance what tliey gained by valour. Sir Thomas, tliree days after, by a night march, in the course of w hich he passed by several posts of the enemy, gained Bradford, and there intrenched liimself. This was at the close of 1642, the first year of that mcmora])le contest, w hich, though compa- ratively insignificant, as to the number of men engaged, the blood shed, and the martial deeds achieved, far exceeds all other civil wars, in the greatness of its moral interests and the noble qualities, both of head and heart, which it developed in all parties. We know not any portion of history Mhich discloses so much of human natm-e, wliich detects so many (tf " the spirits that lie like truth," none from which rulers and subjects may derive so much wisdom, none which so emphatically asserts that " the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God." In most of the conflicts which luive divided nations against them- selves, one side or other have been so wicked, or both so worthless, or 2 A 186 LORD FAIRFAX. tlie points at issue so personal and valueless, that the recital of their progress and results merely amuses by variety of incident, or disgusts by sameness of depravity ; but in the principles and the fortunes of the Cavaliers and the Roundheads, Me still experience a reaJ and vital con- cern. The warmth of passions, though abated, is not extinguished. We feel as if our own liberty, our own allegiance, our own honour and religion, Avere involved in the dispute. At the opening of the year 1043, the King's affairs wore an aspect by no means unpromising. In the preceding summer, when he withdrew from the JMetropolis, and foimd the gates of his own good town of Hull shut against him, he had neither ships nor men, nor money: every port in the kingdom, Newcastle excepted, was in the hands of his enemies ; the Lord Lieutenants, in whom the immediate power of raising troops was vested, were all their creatures ; the power of the purse had been taken from him, and though the law was really on his side, yet so com- pletely was the administration of it intercepted by the Parliament, and so skilfully had they turned the forms of law to their own purposes, that simple persons were not quite sure whether it was not rebellion to obey their sovereign. And here we may be permitted to remark how completely the unprovided condition in which Charles was found in this extremity confutes the assertions and the fears of those who justified their proceedings, upon rumours of armies, and martial preparations in England and Ireland, while in truth the King's adherents had scarce a weapon but the sword worn for fashion by their sides, or the antiquated furniture of their ancestral armories. That Charles wished to be free of Parliamentary controul there can be no doubt, any profession of his own notwithstanding ; for he was a man, a King, and a High-church-man ; but that he was plotting to make himself absolute by force of arms, there is no better proof than the reports of spies, the wild talk of a few hot-brained drunken Cavaliers, and the apprehensions of some who had indeed occasion to dread the exercise of his lawful prerogative. To these weak gromids of suspicion, we perhaps may add the secret insinu- ations of foreign states, particularly France and Sweden, then respec- tively governed by Richlieu and Oxenstierna, two of the profoundest politicians that ever lived. Thus destitute was Charles when he refused to resign to the Parlia- ment his right in the militia " even for an hour." The deep-headed leaders of the movement, who were not frightened with their own noise, anticipated no obstacle to their ambition, and thought, by forcing the sovereign to a base submission, above all, by involving his name in their purposed vengeance on his advisers, to deprive him at once of authority, friends, honoiu-, and reputation, and would then have been satisfied to LORD FAIRFAX. If^J propitiate the popular snperstiliun in favour of royalty, by koi-piiig liiin as a pensioned pageant, as helpless and as useful as the automaton idol of a pagan priesthood, tliat nods and shakes its head as thc manager pulls the string, and seems to utter what the ventriloquist s(pieaks out of its mouth. lint it was not so ordered. It u as ordained that their victory sliould be purchased with much blood ; that the Constitution should rather suffer a stab, and suspended animation, from which its tenacious vitality soon recovered, than a shameful wound that would have emasculated and degraded its nature. The majority of the nobles, the country gentlemen, the agricultural jwpulation in those districts that were remote from the contagion of the metropolis, the episcopal clergy, and the Universities, together with the Catholics, and a pretty large minority of the mob, who loved bear-baiting and IMay games, and " cakes and ale," better than fasts and sermons, still clung to the King. The train-bands of some counties were raised for his service. The nobility armed their tenants and retainers, the gentry formed themselves into troops, the Prince of Orange induced experienced officers to take com- mand of his levies, the colleges sent their plate to be coined for his use ; light vessels, freighted with arms and ammunition, purchased abroad by the Queen, running into the shallow creeks, where the Parliament's ships could not follow, landed and disposed of their cargoes much after the manner that contraband goods are run in our times. Charles soon found himself in a condition to face the army of Essex, \\ horn the Par- liament had appointed their General-in-Chief, swearing " to live and die with liim." A slight skirmish near Worcester, and the indecisiAe battle of Edge-IIill, were followed by the advance of the royal army upon London, lianbury and Reading were taken; Oxford joyfully received the host of the " Defender of the Faith." A treaty was proposed, and it is not injprobable, that in the panic, reasonable terms might have been obtained. But while matters were in train for a conference, and the ruling party had ])rohibited their troops from acting on the offen- sive, a rash attack on the regiment stationed at Brentford, ascribed by the royalist historians to the unruly impetuosity of Prince Buport, gave colour to a suspicion of treachery, and extinguished the last sparks of loyalty in the City, which had all along been the head (piarters of dis- affection. After this the King retired to Oxford, and a negociation actually commenced, which could have been only intended by each party to throw the guilt of blood on their antagonists ; for the conditions pro- posed by the Parliament were such as no one could expect a King, with a devoted and increasing army, to accept, nor c(»uld the King have expected that any better would be offered.* When once the sword is * It was during this abortive negociation, that the Puritan Parliament first 188 I^ORD FAIRFAX. drawn, in civil fight, it can lle^er be sheathed, till it has fairly proved who is the strongest. We cannot esteem these statements an irrelevant digression, because they help to shew the steps whereby men like Fairfax, Mho if bigotted, were not fanatical, and certainly not disposed to extremities, were led to wage war on the King, wliile they wished the conservation of the monarchy. First taking up arms to keep the peace, in tlic belief that the rojal party were too weak to resist, they afterwards refused to lay them down, because the King was too formidable, and too muck exasper- ated to be ti'usted. The hostilities in Yorkshire never seem to have been suspended either by tlie winter or the negociations. It will be recollected that we left Sir Thomas intrenched at Bradford. According to his own account he had only three troops of horse, and about eight-hundred foot, but, upon summoning the country, he made up the latter twelve or thirteen hundred, " too many to lay idle, and too few to be on constant duty." In a war of posts and parties, boldness and the first blow is more tlian half the battle. A hot engagement on the 23rd of January, made him master of Leeds, with all the stores and ammiuiition laid up there. Soon after he defeated Colonel Slingsby at Gisborough, and received in the name of the King and Parliament, the submission of Wakefield and Doncaster, All hopes of adjustment being over, Ferdinando Lord Fairfax, and his son. Sir Thomas Fairfax, were proclaimed traitors by the Earl of Newcastle, to whom the King had entrusted the command of the four northern counties, and who was, in retvu-n, proclaimed trai- tor by the Parliament. About the same time the Ilothams, father and son, who had displayed the first overt act of opposition to the sovereign, deserted the Parliamentary cause. Though their defection was not yet demanded, in express terms, the abolition of Episcopacy. This was clearly what neither they, had they been, which they were not, a legitimate representative Parlia- ment, had any right to demand, nor Charles, had he been as absolute a monarch as he was accused of seeking to be, could have had any right to grant, as long as there was one congregation in the empire, who deemed Episcopacy essential to a Christian church, and therefore, in their view, essential to covenanted salvation. The people have, in these matters, no more just authority than the King, nor the King than the people, nor the gentry than the mob, nor the learned than the ignorant. No man, no community, has a right to deny to any portion of the community, what that portion esteem necessary to their eternal well-being. The state may determine the political rank and functions of religious ministers, and over church property it has the same prerogative, be it more or less, as over other property ; for property, under whatever denomination, is of the things that be Ca;sars. But over the religious character of ministers, the state has no lawful sway. It may deprive a Bishop of his barony, but not of his orders. LORD FAIRFAX. 189 fullv declared, they much inconvenienced the elder Fairfax hv , armed and appointed as nobly as the wealth and magnificence of Cavendish coidd afford, animated by his chivalric spirit, and directed by the experience of King, liis Lieutenant, a veteran Scot, long practised in the continental w ars. The result of this temerity was the defeat of Atherton ]Moor, June 30, 1643. Two thousand were slaia or taken in the field, and two thousand more surrendered the next day. The situation of the Fairfaxes was now most perilous, and had the royalists known how to make use of their victory, the North might have been secured to the King, the comnnuiication between the Scotch and English rebels cut off, and perhaps the House of Stuart would still be reigning over the British Isles. The elder Fairfax withdrew to Leeds on the niglit of the battle, liaving commanded his son to remain in Bradford with 800 foot and 60 horse, at a great strait, scarce knowing which way to turn, for there was no garrison to receive his scattered troops. Halifax and Beverley were evacuated, and Sir Jolm Hotham had declared, that should he retreat towards Hull, the gates shoidd be shut against him. But at this very juncture, the treason of the Hothams exploded. The son was seized in the town, and tlie father made his escape through a postern. One of the cannon which he had himself directed to opjKise his sove- reign's entrance, was discharged after him without effect. Attended with six guards only, he made for his house at Scorbro', near Beverley, 190 LORD FAIRFAX. whicli he had secretly fortified and stored. But meeting with un- expected obstacles, he turned his steps to Beverley, where Colonel Boynton, his own nejdiew, was already apprised of his approacli, and ready to apprehend him. So well had the Colonel kept his counsel, that his troops knew not for wliat service they were called out, and wlien Sir John, riding unawares into the town, found seven or eight hundred armed men lining the street, he boldly put himself at their head, and bad thom follow him, and they, uninformed of his apostacy, were about to obey, Avhen his nephew laid hold of his bridle, and, with suitable apologies, arrested him as a traitor to the Commonwealth. He and his son were sent to London, committed to the Tower, and, after a considerable interval, executed on Tower-hill. We cannot reckon this among the crimes of the Parliament. The son might well have been spared, for his offence was filial obedience ; but the father was a double traitor, and there is reason to think that his secession from the par- liamentary interest was owing to envy at the higher promotion of Fairfax, rather than to retui-ning loyalty. These events took place at the very time that the battle of Athertou JMoor was fighting, and the news arrived just in time to relieve the Lord Ferdinando from his despondency. Thus writes his son : — " Whilst the Lord Fairfax was musing on tliese sad thoughts, a mes- senger was sent unto him from Hull, to let him know the townsmen had secured the Governor ; that they were sensible of the danger he was in, and if he had any occasion to make use of that place, he should be very readily and gladly received there." IMeanwhile, Sir Thomas, with his little remnant, was surrounded in Bradford l)y the vastly superior force of the royalists. It was a woeful time, when women and yoimg childi'en were fain to be dragged along with flying or pvu'suing squadrons, feeling less horror amid shot, and fire, and savage gaslies, and "strange images of death," than in the deso- lation of their once happy homes, and silent expectation of all imagi- nal)le villanies. The wife and children of Fairfax were at his side when, with dauntless courage, and a religious confidence in his cause which thev whet least approve his cause must admire, he determined to cut his way through the enemy. Of the peril and capture of his lady he speaks feelingly in his memorials : — " I must not here forget my wife, who ran the same hazard with us in this retreat, and with as little expression of fear ; not from any zeal, or delight in the war, but through a willing and patient suffering of this undesirable condition. I sent two or three horsemen before, to discover what they could of the enemy, who presently retvu'ued, and told us there was a guard of horse close by us. I, with some twelve more, charged them : Sir Henry LORD FAIRFAX. lyl Fowles, Major General Cifford, myself, and tliree more, broke through. Captain ]\Io(ld was slain, and the rest of our horse being close by, the enemy fell upon them and soon routed them, taking most of them prisoners, among whom was my wife, the officer, ^V'ill Hill, behind whom she rid, being taken. I saw this disaster, but could give no relief, for after I was got through, I was in the enemy's rear alone; those who had charged through with nie went on to Leeds, thinking I had done so too, but I was unwilling to leave my compan}', and staid till I saA\- there was no more in mv ])ower to do, but to be taken prisoner with them." Arriving at Leeds, lie found all in great distraction : the council of war resolved to abandon that place and take refuge in Hull, which was full sixty miles distance, and several of the King's garrisons intervening. With singular skill or good fortune he thridded his way through the numeroiis detachments hovering round Leeds, and gained Selln' in safety, intending to cross the ferry, and make for the j)arliamentary post at Cawood. But before he could accomj)lish this purpose, he was overtaken by a company of horse, and received a shot in the wrist, which made the bridle fall out of his hand, and occasioned so great a loss of blood, that he had like to have fainted. But overcoming nature by a strong effort of will, he siezed the reins in his sword hand, and withdrew from the melee: his intrepidity gave resolution to his follow- ers; the enemy, perhaps gladly, suffered a brave man of an ancient house to escape, and after a most harrassing march, attacked on every side, he arrived at Hull. — But we must give his own account of this adventure : — " I had been twenty hours on horseback after I was shot, and as many hours before : and as a further affliction, my daughter (afterwards Duchess of Buckingham), not above five years old, endured all this retreat a horseback, being carried before her maid ; but nature not being able t(» hold out any longer, she fell into frequent swoouings, and in appearance was ready to expire her last. Having now passed the Trent, and seeing a house not far off, I sent her with her maid only thither, witli little hopes of seeing her any more alive, though I intended the next day to send a ship from Hull for her. I went on to Barton, having sent before to have a ship ready against my coming thither. Here I lay down to take a little rest, if it were possible to find any in a body so full of pain, and a mind yet fuller of trouble and anxiety. Though I must acknowledge it as the infinite goodness of God, that my spirit was nothing at all discouraged from doing still that which I thought to be my duty. I had not rested a quarter of an hour before the enemy came close to the town. I had now not above a hiuidred horse with me : we went to the ship, where, under security of our 192 LORD FAIRFAX. ordnance, we got all our men and liorse aboard^ and crossing Huniber^ we arrived at Hull, our men faint and tired. I myself had lost all, even to my shirt, for my clothes were made unlit to wear with rents and blood. Presently after my coming to Hull, I sent a ship for my daughter, who was brought the next day to the town, pretty well recovered of her long and tedious joiu'ney. Not many days after, the Earl of Newcastle sent my wife back in his coach, with some horse to guard her ; m Inch generous act of his gained him more reputation than he could ha\e got by detaining a lady prisoner on such terms," There is something amiable in this extract. It is pleasing to observe that even civil war does not extinguish a parent's tenderness. Perhaps it had been better for the poor little girl to have died then, than to have lived to be the wife of Villiers. We like Fairfax, too, for calling his wife by that plain, homely, kindly. Christian appellation. Nothing is more heartless than to hear Sir, and ]Madam, and my Lord, and my Lady, between husband and wife. Still more odious are such titles of lionour passing between parents and children.* The names of father, mother, husband, wife, brother, sister, Avhich the Almighty himself has appointed, are far, far more venerable, as more holy, than any which the feudal system has left behind. We do think, however, that Fairfax should have acknowledged Newcastle's generosity with something more than a flat truism. Though the immediate danger was thus passed through, the situ- ation of the Fairfaxes in Hull was extremely critical. The Parliament, intent on watching the personal movements of the King, whom they yet hoped to drive into a compromise which might amount to a virtual surrender of sovereignty, seem hitherto to have neglected the support * Let it not be svipposed that we recommend the example of Philip Egalite, or advocate a substitution, by Act of Parliament, of the titles Citoien, and Citoienne, for yonr Grace, and your Highness Conventional forms of respect are useful enough where there is no substance of natural duty, or heart-atlection. Let them be observed as rigidly as may be in the court, the ball-room, the quarter sessions, the formal dinner party ; but let them be expelled from the family fire-side. So far from being actuated by any Jacobinical or levelling principle, we are pleading in behalf of, and in pm-e affection for, the Aristocracy, who are the only persons subject to these restriction!?, and in a much worse condition, in all that regards their in-door affec- tions, than any part of society but the brutally oppressed and ignorant. It is related of the Proud IJuke of Somerset, that when his second Duchess tapped him fondly on the shoulder with her fan, he turned round haughtily, and said, " Madam, my first Lady was a Percy, and she never took such a liberty." In what a desart must that man's heart have dwelt; — of how much innocent pleasure must he have deprived him- self, without the benefits of religious mortification. We have always had a good opinion of King James I. ever since we learned that he u«ed to call his son Bahy Charles. L(JRU 1 Alia AX. liKi of tlieir most liiitlifiil adlicreiit in the iiortli ; Imt now tlio Scotch were pressed to advance witli 2(),(MM) men, and the Earl of Maiicliester's army was dim-ted to march northward. Fairfax, on his own part, was indefatigaljle in suijplyin^' Ids h)sses. — "Our first hwsiness," says he, "Mas to raise new forces, and in a short time we had ahout 1500 foot, and 700 horse. The to\v n (Hull) heing little, I was sent to Beverley with the horse, and (500 foot; but my Lord of Newcastle now l.ioking upon us as in(!onsi for life, by which means they were saved from destruction, and make a part of the IMonasticdn Anglicanuni. Wliile the siege, or rather blockade, of York was in hand, some flat- tering advantages had befallen the royal side ; and, in particular, Rupert, who was for carrying all by dint of valour, and for this knightly temper, added to the tie of blood, was much more trusted by the King than his haste and inexperience made prudent, had by a sud- den movement relieved Newark, and defeated a considerable force before that town. His very rashness, in this euterprizc, stood him in good 198 LORD FAIRFAX. stead. " He undertook it," says Lord Clarendon, " before he was ready for it, and so performed it." Advancinj^ witli his horse only, and out- stri]i])ing his infantry hy four miles, he encountered and dispersed a numerous advanced guard of the enemies' cavalry, and then in the strength and ardour of success, fell upon the main line, and gained a more decided victory than any which the war had yet produced. Then marching through Lancashire, he captured several posts of the Parlianu'ntarians by the way, raised the siege of Latham House, (of which Me shall have to speak in the next life,) and so peuetrated into Yorkshire. Sir Thomas Fan-fax and JMajor-general Uesley, with GOOO liorse and dragoons, and 5000 foot, marched out to intercept his progress, but he evaded them by fetching a compass with his army, and joined the IMarquis of Newcastle. The forces of Leven and Fairfax, now united with the Earl of Man- chester's army, of which Cromwell was Major-general, immediately broke u]> the siege, which they were beginning to press with vigour, and withdrew to Hessey-moor. A council of war was held, in which there arose a difference of opinion between the two nations. The Scotch were for retreating, the English for fighting. The former prevailed, and they fell back to Tadcaster. Great jealousies and strong national antipathies prevailed ; which if the royalists had possessed but a little patience, might have terminated in a decided rupture. The JMarcpiis of Newcastle counselled delay; but the unmanageable Prince Rupert would scarce listen to his advice. By a weakness, perhaps deserving of a harsher name, the King had given his hot-headed cousin, (who was alike unskilled to command and repugnant to obey, and fitter for a night attack or marauding excursion, than for the arrangement and execiition of combined and extensive operations,) precedence in command of the noble Newcastle, who had served him so wisely, so bravely, and so suc- cessfully, in a manner at his own private cost. But the Prince had some private picpie against the Marquis, who, on his part, was not fully satisfied with the treatment of the court, and was only waiting for a season when he might retire with honour. Prince Rupert, pretending, perhaps truly, the peremptory commands of the King, drew almost the whole garrison from York, leaving only a handful of men with Sir Tho- mas Glenham, and sought the allied armies of the rebels, who were arrayed on ]\Iarston-moor, eight miles from the ancient city, so that the report of the cannon, and the contradictory rumours, ever and anon arriving, nmst have kept its inhabitants in restless agony. For many a dear life was that day at deadly hazard, many a wife knew not if she were a widow, and many a venerable man, who had grown old in the service of that beautiful IMinster, nnittcred with trembling alfection the L(JRJJ lAlKlAX. lU'J petitions of tlit' Liturgy, wliii-Ii u near and niij,'lity foe had sworn to efface, even with blood. With wliat strange, what conflicting prayers, was Heaven liesiegcd that (jl (juis of Newrastle, weary of a cliarge wliich little suited liis elegant and studious haltits, and luiiir since mortified hy the lualign influences Mliich made Charles most suspicious of his best friends, set sail for Ilam- hurgh, with King and other of his followers, and continued aliroad till the Restoration.* His nohle estates were sequestrated Ity the Par- * That Newcastle had found or fancied causes of dis^st some months before the fight of Marston Moor, appears from the following letter of Charles, equally honour- able to the heart and head of the writer : " Newcastle, By your last despatch I perceive that the Scots are not the only, or it may be said the least, enemies you contest withall at this time; wherefore 1 must tell you in a word, for I have not time to make long discourses, you must as much contemn the impertinent or malicious tongues or pens of those that are, or profess to be, your friends, as well as you despise the sword of an equal enemy. The truth is, if either you or my L. Ethin leave my service, I am sure at least all the north (I speak not all I think) is lost Remember, all courage is not in fighting; constancy in a good cause being the chief, and the despising of slanderous tongues and pens being not the least ingredient I'll say no more, but let nothing dishearten you from doing that which is most for your ow^n honour, and the good of (the thought of leaving your charge being against both) your most assured, real, constant friend, Oxford, April 5, 1641 Charles R. Newcastle has been rather harshly treated by Clarendon, among whose virtues or weaknesses the love of the elegant and poetical was by no means so conspicuous as in his royal master. According to the noble historian, " he was a vcr\- fine gentleman, active and full of courage, and most accomplished in those qualities of horsemanship, dancing, and fencing which accompany a good breeding, in which his delight was. Besides, he was amorous in poetry and music, to which he indulged the greatest part of his time, and nothing could have tempted him out of those paths of pleasure, which he enjoyed in a full and ample fortune, but honour and ambition to sen'e the King when he saw him in distress. He liked the pomp and absolute authority of a General, and preserved the dignity of it to the full; and for the discharge of the outward state and circumstances of it, in acts of courtesy, aft'ability, bount}-, and generosity he abounded. But the substantial part and fatigue of a general he did not in any degree understand (being utterly unacquainted with war), nor could submit to, but referred all matters of that nature to his I.ieutcnant-fTeneral, King. In all actions of the field he was still present, and never absent in any battle, in all which he gave instances of an invincible courage and fearlessness in danger, in which the exposing himself notoriously did sometimes change the fortime of the day when his troops began to give ground. Such actions were no sooner over than he retired to his delightful company, music, or his softer pleasures, to all which he was so indulgent, and to his ease, that he would not be interrupted upon any occasion what soever, insomuch that he sometimes denied admittance to the chiefest officers of the army, even to (jeneral Kiug himself, for two days together." Those who would see the life and character of this nobleman depicted by a kinder, softer hand, should consult his memoirs written by his Duchess, the high-souled .Mar- garet of Newcastle, said to be the most voluminous of authoresses, who, with a vanity pardonable, if not amiable, in \«onian, had all her tomes impressed with lur armorial 2 c 202 LORD FAIRFAX. lianient in 1652, wliidi, at little more than five years' purchase, pro- duced £112,000. The battle of IMarston JMoor was a blow which the royal cause never recovered. Poor as the King was, the capture of his arms and (irdnance, and the death of so many brave men, was what he could ill afford ; but in an army like his, of which not only the sj)irit and direction, but the physical strength, was derived from the highest and smallest class, every gentleman slain was a loss that could not Ije rej)aired. The three parliamentary Generals, Fairfax, Lesley, and Blanchester, now sat down before York, which surrendered on the 15th of July, so that the whole country north of the Trent, with the exception of a few scattered garrisons, was in the hands of the ruling party. In reducing these remnants of royalism. Sir Thomas seems for some time to have been principally employed ; a service of little glory and much danger, for he had to do with men determined to sell their lives as dear as possible. Twice was he in imminent peril of death ; first, in the assault of Helmsley Castle, where he received a shot in the shoulder, which threatened to prove fatal ; and again, before Pomfret Castle, where he narrowly escaped a cannon ball, which passed betwixt him and Colonel Forbes so close that both were knocked down with the wind of it, and Forbes lost an eye. The elder Fairfax now made York the seat of a standing committee, whereby the affairs of the whole county were controuled. So absolute was the power exercised by this jimto, that when, in 1644, the corpora- tion of Beverley had re-elected IMr. Robert Manbie, a royalist, to their mayoralty, tlie committee, in the name of the Parliament, commanded them to annul the election,'- and to elect such person as they should approve. bearings. To this. Pope, who never coiild omit an opportunity of insulting a woman, living or dead, alludes in his description of Tibbald's library, afterwards preposte- rously transferred to Gibber:— - " There, stamped with arms, Newcastle shines complete." Langbaine reckons up eight folios of her Grace's : she is an especial favourite with Charles Lamb : we need add nothing more in her commendation. * Qiiinto die Augusto, 1644 A true coppie of an order sent from the standinge committee at Yorke unto the governors and Burgisses of the Towne of Beverley." — Scaum's Beverlac. Vol. L, Page 365. The principle charges against Manbie are, that he was unduly elected, contrary to the charter of the town, and " that after he was soe chosen Mayor he betrayed the tnist in him reposed, and deserted his place and office and went to Yorke, being then a garrison towne, and held by the Lord Newcastle against the Parliament," that he had taken away the town plate and mace, misapplied " diverse soomes of mooney" due to the ministers and preachers of the town, that he had laid fines and impositions LORD FAIRFAX. 203 From this time, till the piissing of the self-d«uyiiif^ (irdiiiauce. Sir Thomus Fairfax (Idcs not appear to liave been cnfjaj^ed in any of the greater actions. He liad proljahly enough to do ti» cheek the risings of the defeated party in the Nortiiern counties, wliile the mass of the Par- liamentary troops were emi)!oyed, for a Mhile, with very ill success, in the western and midland regions. Sir William Waller, whom the Houses had once called " their conqueror," was worsted at Cropredy- bridge, near Banljury, (that noted seat of Puritanism.) Essex, driven into the extremity of Cornwall, escaped Mitli some difHculty in a small boat, while his troops under Skippon, without striking a blow, delivered up their arms, amnnuiition, artillery, and baggage to the King. But so far were the Parliament from desponding, or putting on a face of dejectiou for these reverses, that the committee of the two kingdoms voted to Essex, in the moment of his defeat the thanks of the nation for his zeal, fidelity, courage, and conduct. Yet it is probable, that at this very time, they were secretly determined upon his removal. His forces were soon rearmed and recruited, and, united with those of Alancliester, Cromwell, Middleton, and Sir William Waller, fought on the 27th of October, 1G44, the second battle of Newbury, which like the first was bloody and indecisive. In none of these actions was Fairfax engaged, but it is necessary thus passingly to allude to them, because they tended to produce that change of system, to which he owed his ele- vation. In the first place, a desperate schism took place between the Earl of jManchester and his major-general Cromwell, the latter accusing his superior, in plain terms, of cowardice or treachery, in not d(»ing his utmost to destroy the King's army at Newbury. Waller and Essex had long been at secret variance, and the Parliament, which now began more o])enly to assume the aspect of a republican senate, was in danger of mis- carrying through the disagreements of its connnanders. But this danger was efFectiuilly averted by the famous self-denying ordinance, whereby all members, of either House, were made incapable of holding com- mand in the army, whicli was to be recruited and new-modelled accord- ing to the democratic system, now begining with the rise of the Indepen- dents, to gain ascendancy. By this means, without the odium or aj)]);u rent ingratitude of depriving ofhcers, against whom they had no .sj)ecific complaint, by name, they ridded tlieniselves of aristocratic spirits, who Avould, if longer entrusted with military power, very likely liave turned it against their employers, when tliey perceived that the success of their cause involved the downfall of their order. on icell-affi'clcfl (i. c. Parliamentarian) persons during the siege of Hull by tlie royal- ists, &c. Manbic «a-; eonipclled to deliver iij) the niaee to the committee, and of course it was not restored to tlie to»vn but upon cuiidilious. 204 i.OlM) lAIUl'AX. Essex, Waller, Warwick, IManchester, and Denbigh, were thus obliged to lay down their commissions, and P'airfax, almost alone among the aristocracy, remained (pialHied for command. As the representa- tive therefore, of the ancient nobility, and of the Presbyterian interest, Fairfax might be said to s\icceed to the vacated generalshi]), by tiie just and established rules of promotion. Of all the patrician supporters of the popular side, he had displayed the most conscientious devotion to the cause ; and however blameable he may appear in the eyes of many good and wise men in the choice of his party, it is certain that in taking up arms against the King, he neither gratified the sellishness of disap- pointed ambition, nor violated the ties of private gratitude. He had received no favour from the King, he had asked none ; lie sought no vengeance, he had nothing to hope from the subversion of the ancient regime. It has been argued, idly enough, that if Fairfax had withdra\vn from the contest at this jiuicture, when the remodelling of the army strongly indicated the purpose of maintaining a standing force, unconnected with, and uncontrouled by, the regular constitutional authorities, his name would have descended to posterity stainless, as that of a warrior for law and liberty. But surely, whatever reasons determined his conduct in 1642, they were equally strong, or stronger, in 1645. There wei'e the same grounds for suspecting Charles's intentions. If he were not to be trusted at one time, (and his alleged want of faith Mas the colourable pretext of the war,) it was very unlikely that he had grown more trust- worthy at the other. If it was apprehended, that at the first opportu- nity, he would revoke his concessions, made in peace, to a legitimate Parliament, was it supposable that he m oidd pay, that he was morally bound to pay, more regard to concessions yielded by compvdsion of the sword, to men whom he could not think legally possessed of any political character ? In truth, the time when a wise man ought to have sided with the sovereign, was before the war conunenced. When the star- chamber and high-commission court were abolished, the King had con- ceded all that he had a right to concede, and to attempt to strip him of a power which all acknowledged to be inherent in his crown, upon a mere contingent probability of his abusing it, was justifiable on no prin- ciple but that of Ijare-faced tyranny. But when the opposite factions were once blooded, all ho])e of saving the constitution was at an end ; nothing remained but the choice between absolute monarchy and an absolute repuljlic, to which a nominal King wcmld be a useless, expen- sive appendage, an ornament grosly out of taste. In a word, if Fairfax was right in entering upon the war, he was boiuid in honour and con- science to persevere in it so long a.s the })ower which he had acknow- I.OKU TAlUrAX. 2()j ledgcd for wtvoreign tlioiij^lit j)r<»])er to trust liini. IMoreuM-r, so t-xas- perated wen; the royalists bt'conu', and so full was the land of men of blood, that there was no liope of j)eace, no security for life, hut in the complete victory and undisputed authority of one side or other. iNIen may make war when they choose, but they can only make peace when Heaven chooses. Thouffh the self-denyinp^ ordinance was not formally ])assed till the 3rd of April, l(i4;"», two days after which Essex resifrned his commission, yet Fairfax received the appointment of commander-in-chief on the 21st of Jaiuiary, and was innnediately summoned from the North to receive his investiture. He came up to London very jjrivately, arrived on the 18th of February, and the next day was brought up ))y four mendjers to the House of Commons, where he was highly complimented by the S])eaker, and received his commission as jrencral-in-chief. A few days before an ordinance had been formed, im])ortin^ that there should be forthwith raised, for the defence of the Kim/ and of the Pro- testant religion, and the laws and liberties of the kingdom, an army con- sisting of 6(500 horse, to be distributed into eleven regiments; lOOO dragoons, in ten companies, and 14,000 foot, in tvielve regiments ; each regiment of foot to consist of 1200, distributed into ten companies. For their maintenance there was imposed on nineteen of the counties and cities of England, a monthly cess of cL^a3,4i)0, to be raised by a land-tax. It is wonderful how, amid the suspension of trade and industry necessa- rily consequent on civil discord, the general insecurity of property, and the successive ravages of both parties, the Roundheads plundering in the name of the law, and the Cavaliers by the law of the sword, such sums could possildv be raised. The Long-Parliament were no econo- mists, according to the modern notion of the term, for they voted the Earl of Essex a retiring pension of £10,000. But it must be recollected, that they had, under the name of secpiestration, confiscated the estates of most of the gentry opposed to them. These were, in some instances, sold, but more generally the owners were allowed to compoiuid for them. The reveinies of the chin-ch were also in a great measure diverted, nor were the j)late and ornaments of churches spai-ed. ' IJut a nation will generally pay and suffer more in the hope of change, than for the sup- port of Ihiiii/s as they are. To Fairfax the Parliament granted the extraordinary privilege (»f selecting his subordinate ofHcers out of all the Parliamentarian armies, at his own discretion, subject to the approbation of the House. On the • " Nov. 1()I3. The rebels seize the retcalia and phile in Westminster .\bbey, and being desired to leave one single cup for tlie cominnnion, answ ered " a tcoodcn (Hsft woiiM sofe the Ooh." — Salniou'.s Cluouologicul Abridgment. 20G LORD FAIRFAX. 2otli of jMarcli, £li)00 were voted to him as a })resent. On the 3rd (»f April, he departed for Windsor, wliere lie had ap})ointed the general rendezvous ; and there, with the assistance, or rather imder the direc- tions of Cromwell, he set about new-modelling the army. The dis- charged oflicers acquired the name of Reformados. While the business of the self-denying ordinance, and consequent changes in the army, were proceeding, an ineffectual treaty was going on at Uxbridge. Nothing could have been seriously intended by the heads on either side, except to satisfy their respective adherents, which, in both parties, were growing clamorous for peace, of their conciliatory dis- position. As this disposition was shewn by the Parliament, in a reiter- ation of the old demands respecting the militia, (which they now, however, only asked to command for seven years,) and the abolition of episcopacy, with a yet harder condition, that forty English, nineteen Scotch, and all Catholics who had born arms for the King, should be attainted and excepted from a general pardon ; it cannot be wondered that the commissioners separated, after twenty days discussion, without effecting any thing ; especially as the temporary success of Montrose in Scotland inspired the royalists with delusive hope. The Mar, which had never been wholly suspended, even in the imme- diate neighboiu'hood of the negociators, revived with more than its former vigour in this, the fourth, campaign. The character of the forces on both sides was materially altered. The chivalric humanity of the royalists was in a great measure lost " by cus- tom of fell deeds." The good example of Charles could not prevent the camps of his followers from becoming the abode of riot ; and the keen privations, Avhich alternated with excessive indvilgence, gave his soldiers the reckless and rapacious character of banditti. The republicans, on the other hand, began to exchange their sobriety of manner for the strangest antics of imaginary inspiration : the high-wrought enthusiasm of a few philosophic minds infected the mass with the most mischievous fanaticism, even to the suj)posing themselves above all ordinances, not only human, but divine, and as free from the moral, as from the cere- monial law. In the spring of 1045, " the disposition of the forces on both sides was as follows : part of the Scottish army was employed in taking Pomfret, and other towns in Yorkshire : part of it besieged Carlisle, valiantly defended by Sir Thomas Glenham : Chester, where the Lord Byron commanded, had long been besieged by Sir William Brere- ton, and was reduced to great difficulties. The King, being joined by the Princes Rujiert and IMaurice lay at Oxford \vith a considerable army, about 15,000 men. Fairfax and Cromwell were posted at LOKI) lAIKFAX. 207 Windsor, with tlie new-tnodelled army, about 22,0()0 men. Taunton, in Somersetshire, defended by JJIuke, (afterwards tlie famous Achniral,) suffered a long siej^e fmni Sir llicliard Granville, who coninianded an army of about 8000 men, and though the defence had lu-cn nljstinate, the garrison were now reduced to great extremity. Goring commanded in the West, an army of about tlie same number." * The first actual service in which Fairfax was employed in his new capacity of Commander-in-Chief was the relief of Taunton, a town whose fidelity and suffering in the parliamentary cause made its deliver- ance an object of honour and gratitude no less than of policy. But it was a consideration of first-rate importance to retain the military talents of Oliver Cromwell, who, though he was the secret mover of the self-denying ordinance, was, according to the strictness of its operation, liimself discpialified by it, for he was a member of the lower house for the borough of Huntingdon. But this difficulty was easily overcome by the craft of Oliver, and through the instrumentality of Fairfax. Before the day appointed for the officers dismissed under the ordinance to deliver up their commissions, Cromwell, who was raised to the second command under Fairfax, was already on the march. Orders, never meant to be olxjyed, were despatched by the House, requiring his" immediate attendance in Parliament, and empowering the new General to put some other ofiicer in his place. A ready compliance Avas feigned, but, a few days after, Fairfax sent a recpiest that he might be allowed to retain Lieutenant-General Cromwell, as his advice was needed in filling up the vacancies. This request was shortly after- wards enlarged, so that Cromwell received permission to serve for that campaign. It would have been no easy matter to have dismissed him by any ordinance after the campaign was ended. This matter settled, Fairfax, with 8000 horse and foot, hastened to the relief of Taunton. He began his march on the Istof ^Alay, and reached Blandford, in Dorsetshire, on the 7th, when the northward movements of the King, who had succeeded in raising the siege of Chester, occasioned a change of orders from the committee of both kingdoms appointed for the management of the war. He was now directed to observe the King's motions, and, if expedient, to lay seige to Oxford, M-hich the King's absence loft exposed. Having despatched Colonel Weldon to the west with 4000 men, he retraced his steps, arrived at Newlnu-y on the 14th, rejoined Oliver Cromwell and GenenU Brown ; after a rest of three nights faced Dennington Castle, took a few prisoners, and determined to deprive the monarch of his Zoar, by assailing Oxford. But the fate of that loyal and learned University • Unnio. 208 LORD FAIRFAX. was deferred yet a while. Scarcelj' had Pairfiix sat down before it, M-lien new s arrived tliat Charles had taken Leicester by storm. May 31st, and was menacing the eastern associated counties, tlie possession of which miglit have lieen followed by that of London itself. No time was to be lost : Fairfax broke up the siege of Oxford on the 5th of June, marched through Buckinghamshire into Nortliamptonshire, with- out any certain knowledge of the course which the King was taking. It is even asserted, that the armies were within six miles of each other before either knew of the other's aj)proach. Fairfax had refreshed his troops at Gilsborough, in Nortliampton- shire, from the lltli to the 14th of June, on Avhich day the fortune of the war was decided at Naseby. The King was strongly dissuaded from risking a battle. Gerrard, who lay in Wales, was expected shortly to join, and Goring, whose desperate courage, and quickness both of thought and execution, were as serviceable in actual combat as his debauchery and cruelty were mischievous to the general interests of the cause, was to bring up his powers as soon as Taunton, the walls of which were battered to pieces, and the whole town in ruins, shoidd be carried. An interesting book might be written on the mighty events tliat have been determined by the delay or miscarriage of letters. Goring had written to the King, informing him that in three weeks he expected to be master of Taimton, and should then hasten with all the forces of the west to join the iiiain army, and intreating him to avoid a general action in the interim. This letter, which, had it arrived at its proper destination, might have prevented the defeat of Nasebv, was unwarily intrusted to a fellow who, being no other than a spy of Fairfax's, of coiu'se carried it forthwith to his employer, -who thus became acquainted w ith the real circumstances and intentions of the royal party. So the King had no counter-authority to oppose to the impetuosity of Prince Rupert, backed by the young nobles and gentry, who, after all the mischances of the war, still continued to throng his camp, and who were naturally as impatient of fatigue as they were fearless of danger. On the 14th of June, 1645, the action commenced. The King led on his centre in person. Prince Ru])crt commanded on the right. Sir Marmadidve Langdale on the left. The forces of the repuVjlic were thus disposed. Cromwell was opposed to Langdale on the right ; Fairfax and Skippon faced the King in the centre ; and Ireton, Crom- well's son-in-law, was to encounter Rupert on the left. Prince Rupert, who had been appointed General-in-Chief of the royal horse, incorrigible in his rashness, ruined his too confiding uncle * by falling precisely * The Princes Rupert and Maurice were the sons of Elizabath, daughter of James LORD FAIRFAX. 2W into the same error wlierehy Ik- lost tlif victory ;it Edge-IIill ami caused the overthrow of IMarstoii JMoor. The fury of his onset l^orc down tlie Jeft wing of the enemy, notwithstanding tlic stout resistance of Ireton, wlio was wounded and taken prisoner. As usual, Rupert detached himself from the main battle to iiuiit the fuj^itivcs as spy war on your ])art, and what sad effects it hath jjroduced in the three kingdoms is visible to all men. To maintain the rights of the crown and kingdom j<»intly ; a principal part whereof is, that the King, in supreme acts, is not to be advised by men of whom the law takes no notice, but by his Piu'lia- 214 LORD FAIRFAX. nieiit, the groat counsel of tlie kingdom, in whom (as miicli as man is capable of) he liears all his })eople as it Mere at once advising him, and in which multitude of counsellors lies his safety and his people's inte- rest ; and to see him right in this hath been the constant and faithful endeavour of the Parliament. And to bring those wicked instruments to justice that have misled him is a principal ground of our fighting." The vindictive spirit of this last sentence nvdlilies the favourable impression of the constitutional notions contained in the former ])as- sages, which, though they do not historically describe what the English constitution had been, point out clearly what it ought to be. The Parliament, in their legislative (piality of guardians of the constitution, were in duty bound to insist on whatever was requisite for its utmost practicable perfection, according to the wants and capacities of the time being, without tying themselves to the measure of times past. Truly absurd, pace tanti viri, is the argument of Hiune, that, because the English were content under the semi-despotism of Elizabeth, they might very well have rested under the milder rule of Charles 1st. As plausibly might it be asserted, that the adult youth ought not to repine at being denied a steed, and should be thankful if he is allowed a donkey, because, while he Mas in petticoats, he Mas particularly proud of a rocking-horse. But then every advance in freedom should be accompanied M'ith an amnesty ; at least no man should be called to account for infringement of popular rights M'hich have not been achieved, realised, chartered, and made laM\ For there is, or certainly there should be, no such thing as a political crime, M'hich is not a demonstrable breach of a positive existing laM'. But independent of these considerations, the eagerness to search out and punish delinquents, whether it proceeds from malice or cowardice ; whether the pretext be retribution or security ; whetlier it exist in a " high court of justice," or a committee of public safety, is alike inconsistent with the true idea and sincere love of liberty ; for it alw^ays implies or induces a lawless lust of power, and M'hei-e that is there can be no liberty. He that M(ndd not have all men as free as they are capable of being, does not deserve, and therefore cannot enjoy, freedom himself. But M'e are digressing too far. It were little interesting to detail the several military expeditions in which our subject Mas engaged between the surrender of Bristol, and the final reduction of the kingdom. As little remained to do, but to subdue the scattered garrisons M'hich held fast their integrity in spite of despair, several of Mhich M'cre private mansions, in M'hich old age and Avoman- hood endured all extremities of famine and toil, and sleepless peril, for a King who could neither reward fidelity nor punish desertion, it M'ould I.CJIU) lAlllFAX. 2]'} perhaps conduce more to tlie honour of Fuirfax, to say wliere he was not coiicornctl, than where lie was. It is agreeable, tlierefore, to record tliat he had no share in the atrocious massacre of the irarris(ju of Basiiig- h<»use ; a galhuit lew, wlio witli sliglit succours from head-tjuarters at Oxford, maintained the ancient hall of tlie IManiuis of Winchester for more than two years, (from August 1643, to Octoljer 10-1').) This hloody execution was done by Cromwell's troops alone, but it is \ery uncertain whether Oliver himself could have stopjied it, had he been so minded; for the garrison were for tiie most i)art, like the IManpiis, tainted Mith the incxjjiable sin of Paper i/, and to spare them, would have been as the rebellion of Saul. The habit of blood-shed however acquired, must corrupt and harden the heart ; but we do not ascril>e, to the military saints of Cromwell, any natural cruelty ; we even believe that their consciences often reproached them with lenity, and that they were always as humane as their religion allowed thein to be. We are liappy who live in times when religion, under all diversities of torm and doctrine, is the law of gentleness and love; and scarcely can credit, when we read of zealous religionists, men of prayer and fasting, who searched the Scripture for precedents of slaughter, said grace as devoutly Ijefore cutting a throat as before carving a fowl, and dreamed that the times were at hand when the meek shall inherit the earth, never doubting that themsehes were of the niunber. Strange it is, that when they opened their bibles, (as was their custom,) to determine their conduct by the first text that struck their eyes, they never stumbled on those words of the Saviour, " Ye know not of what spirit ye are." In these woeful aberrations Fairfax had little part. He continued to the end, as he began, a solemn sturdy Presbyterian, too dull for enthu- siasm, too sol)er-minded for fanaticism, too luiimaginative to perceive the beauty of the established worship, and too proud to submit his pri- vate judgment to tradition. After the taking of Bristol, Fairfax and Cromwell divided their forces. CromM-ell marched towards the east. Fairfax hastened to complete the subjugation of the West. After possessing himself of some minor posts, he commenced the blockade of Exeter, towards the end of October. That loyal city held out Mith great determination for several months, during which he took Dartmouth by storm on the 18th January, 1646, and defeated Lord Hopton, at Torrington, on the 16th February. On the 24th February, the Parliament voted £50,000 for his army, out of the excise. He pursued Lord Ilopton into Cornwall, and after taking ]\Iount Edgecomb and Fowey, so comiilotely hemmed him round in Truro, that he was fain to capitulate on terms which, to Fairfax's honour, were far from severe : to m it, that all soldiers, whether 21 () LURD FAIRFAX. English or foreign, sliould have liberty, on delivering up their arms and horses, either to go over seas, or return to their homes in England, only engaging not to serve against the Parliament ; that officers and gentle- men of (juality shoidd be allowed to de})art with horses for themselves and one servant, or more, accoriling to their rank, and arms befitting a gentleman ; that troopers and inferior horse officers, on delivering up their arms and horses, should receive twenty shillings to carry them home ; and that English gentlemen, of considerable estate, should have the general's pass and recommendation to the Parliament for moderate composition. Before the signing of the treaty, the Lord Hopton, with Arthur Lord Capel, the Prince of Wales, Sir Edward Hyde, (afterwards Earl of Cla- rendon,) and other royalists of distinction, passed over to Scilly, and thence to Jersey. Exeter surrendered on articles, April 13th. The West being thus clear of an enemy, Fairfax hastened to besiege Oxford. Before he lay down before that city, the King had withdrawn thence in disguise, and having now no place of strength to retire to, and no army a foot,* and the Parliament refusing all offers of accommodation, he took the resolution of casting himself on the generosity of the Scotch army, flhose head quarters were then at Newark. This was a singularly unfortunate stej). Had he negociated with the English army, while Fairfax retained his influence in it, he Mould probably have met at least M ith more sincerity. The siege of Oxford commenced on the 1st of jMay, and it capitulated on the 24th of July ; happy, under its hapless destiny, in falling into the hands of Fairfax, whose hraiourable regard to learning and learned men should never be forgotten by those who would judge most unfavourably of his public conduct. The consideration with Mhich he treated the University, exposed him to the bitter censure of the " Root and Branch JMen ;" lait it has procured him a good word from that truly quaint and honest anti(juary, Antony-a-Wood, one of the many glories of IMerton College, who was little enough inclined to praise King Charles's enemies. Yet he testifies to the good conduct and disci- pline of Fairfax's soldiers, and to the general's care of the Bodleian library, M'hich, he confesses, had suffered much more fi-om the King's garrison, than it did from the Roundheads. Fairfax shewed his affec- tion for that inestimable treasure by bequeathing to it the voluminous MSS. of Roger Dodsworth, amounting to 122 volumes, all in Roger's * The last force ttiat took the field in the King's favour, commanded by Lord Ast- ley, and consisting of 3,000, were defeated at Stowe, on the 22nd of March, by Colonel Morgan, and thus all hopes of relieving or strengthening the King at Oxford, were frustrated. Astley, when the affair was over, said to his captors " You have done your work, and may go play, unless you choose to fall out among yourselves." LORD FAllirAX. 217 «)Wn writing, Iwsides original MSS. which he li:i(l (ilttaiiied from several hands, niakiiif^ altdf^ctlier 1G2 folios. The next important en^aj^i-inent in which our ach nearer : one of them rejdied, " I warrant, Sir, Aie'll hit vou ; " to whieli he rejtiined, " Friends, I have been nearer to yon \i lien you have missed nie." This execution over, Fairfax went to the T(t\vn-hall, where the rest of the prisoners were confined, and addressing himself to the Earl of Norwich and the Lord Capel, told them " that, having done that which military justice re({uired, all the lives of the rest were safe, and that they should be well treated, and disposed of as the Parliament should direct." But the Lord Capel had not so soon digested this so late barbarous proceeding as to receive those who caused it with such return as his condition might have jirompted to him, but said that they should do well to finish their work, and execute the same rigour to the rest ; upon M'hich there were two or three such sliarp and bitter replies between him and Ireton as cost him his life in a few months after."'' When a bill of attainder against L(trd Capel was brought into the House of Commons, he pleaded that Fairfax had not only promised him his life, but liad expressly acknowledged that promise in a letter to the House. Lord Fairfax w^as called on to explain his meaning in that letter. He had then the chance at least of saving a brave man's life, but he merely said, " that his promise did not extend to any other but the military ])ower, and that the prisoners were, notwithstanding, liable to trial and judgment by the civil ])ower." A very similar case, our readers will recollect, occurred after the battle of Waterloo. We have anticipated the order of time a little, to bring all the trans- actions connected with the surrender of Colchester under one point of view, for the attainder of Capel did not take jjlace till after the execu- tion of Charles. Fairfax, having reduced Colchester, and laid a heavy fine of j6 12,000 on the inhabitants, who seem to have been passive in the whole business to excuse them from being plundered, he made a sort of triumphant progress through Ipswich, Yarmouth, St. Ednumd's- bury, — for what purpose does not appear. He returned to London in December. Some degree of mystery hangs about his participation in tluit violent measure called " Pride's Purge," \vhen all the mendjers known to be hostile to the aboIiti(»n of monarchy were excluded by sol- diers placed for the purpose, and only the most decisive Independents permitted to enter the House. While Whitelock asserts exj)ressly that it Mas done by special order from the Lord General, (Fairfax,) and the council of the army ; he declares, no less positively, that he had not the least intimation of it till it was done, and aj)j)eals to several mendjcrs, with M horn he was at that very time discoursing, for the truth of his * Clartudoii. OOO LORD FAIRFAX. asseveration/' which is also affirmed by Clarendon. The probability is, that he bad never been told what was on foot, that he had never been consulted about it, that he did not choose to know it; but that it was anvthinn; more than he expected, is absolutely incredible, except on the tiujjposition that he was the most gullible of mankind. When the " High Court of Justice," was formed, his name was placed first on the list of judges, but he declined to act as such. There was a great deal of irresolution, not to say prevarication, in his })ro- ceedings on this occasion. His lady shewed a far manlier spirit. When the regicide court first assembled, and the crier, calling over the names of the judges, came to "Thomas Lord Fairfax," — no answer. A second time the sunnnons was uttered — "Thomas Lord Fairfax." A voice from the crowd replied, — " he has more wit than to be here." A moment's pause : — some one asked who spake, but there was no reply. The court resumed. When the impeachment was read, running in the name of " all the good people of England," the same voice exclaimed, " No, nor the hiuidredth part of them." Axtel, the officer, commanded the soldiers to fire at the box from whence the voice ])roceeded. The guns were levelled, when it was perceived that it was the Lady Fairfax that spake so l)oldly. If we arc to believe Anthony Wood, Fairfax had resolved to prevent the execution of the King at the head of his own regiment, but was duped 1)y Cromwell, who directed him "to seek the Lord," and that he was actually "seeking the Lord," in Harrison's apartments at Whitehall, while the bloody deed was doing. But this is utterly incredible, and needs no refutation. He certainly had no active par- ticipation in the King's death ; but so perfectly supine was he during tho whole transaction, that his neutrality is rather to be ascribed to some private scruple than to any clear perception of the inicjuity of the deed. Wood, to make the story still more wonderful, adds, that "when his INIajesty was beheaded, and his C(»rpse thereupon innnediately cof- fined, and covered with a black velvet pall. Bishop Juxon, who attended him on the scaffold, and Thomas Herbert, the only groom of the chaml)er that was then left, did go with the said corpse to the back stairs, to have it endjalmed ; and IMr. Herbert, after the body had been dcpf)sitcd, met with the General Fairfax, who asked him How the King did ? whereupon Herbert, looking very strangely upon him, told him that the King was beheaded, at which he seemed very much sur- prised." We will not — we do not — believe that Lord Fairfax was guilty of such unfeeling hyj)ocrisy, such despicable affectation. Bnt he lived in an age when scarcely any man dealt fairly with his own con- science. Certain it is, that he did not immediately break off his con- LORD lAlUrAX. 223 nection with tlie rogioiilo party, wlio wore indeed now l)ecome the de facto governnieiit, and as sucli, perhaps, entitled to ol)edience, hut not to co-operation, from those who con(h'nined the steps whcrehy they had risen. On tlie Ifjth of Feltruary, just fifteen days after the King's death, lie was nominated one of the new coimcil of state ; and thougli he refused to suhscriljc the test appointed hy the Parliament for approv- ing all that had heen respecting the King, and kingly power, he was, on the 31st of ]\Iarch, voted General-in-Chief of all the forces in England and Ireland. In jMay he made an excursion into Oxfordshire, where he put down the Levellers, who Mere growing very troublesome, and was made a Doctor of Laws, — a whimsical custom of the Universities to invest with academical dignities the men of the sword. He continued his tour southward, and inspected various forts, &c. in the Isle of Wight, South- ampton, and Portsmouth ; and near Guildfold had a rendezvous of the army, wlnjm he exhorted to obedience. He must have had some difficulty in determining whom, vuider existing circumstances, they ought to obey. On the 4th of June he and other officers dined with the city of London, who testified their gratitude by a present of a large and weighty bason and ewer of l)eaten gold. The wildest levellers are not ignorant of the negociahle value of rank. The most abandoned acknow- ledge the moral iuHuencc of character, and the most passionate enthu- siasts (if they are not physically mad) think it well to have some com- mon sense in their service; just as the most devoted Bacchanalians insist upon their servant's keeping sober enough to carry them home, and see them to bed. No wonder, then, that the new republic were anxious to keep Lord Fairfax, who was almost the only man «lio brought title, jiroperty, character, and a cool brain into their councils. Perhaps, too, they hoped to make him a se/-r>//' against Cronnvell. But he was weary, disappointed, no longer young : his wife, M'ho had shared liis perils and promoted his efforts while she imagined that he was fighting for the establishment of a Christian church, and an effective Christian discipline, was vexed in spirit to see him led about at pleasure by sectaries, who agreed with her in nothing V)ut a hatred of j>relatos and surplices. Her pride, if not his own, forbad him to l)e General tif troops whom he could not restrain; and therefore, having found out at last, that he had no power for good, and n(» inclination to further evil, he resigned his commission in June, 1650, when the Scots declared for Kinsr Churles II. The Presbyterians then hoi)ed that the re-establish- nient of monarchy would bring about the establishment of their church, but Fairfax prudently declined either to oi)pose or assist the enterprize. 224 LORD FAIRFAX. lie resigned liis; office on the 26tli of June; the government gave lilni ;i pension of jt'oOCX) a year, and he retired to his seat at Nun-Api)letou, in Yorksliire. From tliat time, we hear notliing of him, (except that he always j)rayed for the restoration of the royal family,) till after the death of Cromwell. When jMonk appeared in the field to deliver the Parliament, (which then resumed its functions,) from Lambert and his soldiers. Lord Fairfax once more took the field ; the Yorkshire gentry gladly obeyed his summons ; on the 3rd of December, 1659, he appeared at the head of a body of gentlemen, his friends and neighbours. His name and reputation induced the Irish brigade, of 1000 horse, to juin him, which gaAC J\Ionk a decided advantage. He took possession of York, on the 1st of January, 1600. On the 29th of IMarch, he was elected one of tlie knights of the shire for the county of York, in the short healing Parliament he gave his glad consent to the restoration of tlie monarchy, which he had so great a hand in destroying, and was at the head of the committee appointed to wait on the King at the Hague. Charles received him with his accustomed graciousness, and, it is said, that in a j)rivate interview, lie asked pardon for all past offences. From this time to his death, he lived at his country seat in great privacy, giving himself up to study and devotion, without taking any part what- ever in public affairs. The most remarkable action that has been recorded, of his last eleven years, was his presenting to King Charles a copy of verses, of his own composition, to or about the horse on which his IMajesty rode to his coronation, which horse was of his own stud, and given by him to the placable monarch, as a peace-offering. We regret that we cannot give the verses intire. Lord Fairfax died on the 12th of November, 1671, in the 60th year of his age, and is buried in the aisle adjoining to the south side of the chancel of Bilburgh church, near York. He left no male issue. He was after his kind, a poet, or at least a versifier of Scripture. In Mr. Thoresby's Museum are his MS. version of the Psalms, Canticles, and other portions of the Bible. He was, upon the whyle, a very honest man. JAMES, EARL OF DERBY. « SANS CHANGER." Such is tlie motto of the noble house of Stanley, and well was it ful- filled in the steadfast loyalty of this brave man, and his heroic spouse. Their story, as far as it has been recorded, is but short, and we shall tell it simply ; sin ■y]i\ JAMES, EARL Ol" DERBV. rijjht, and then they cannot want their riglits. I profess here in the presence of God, I always sought for peace, and I had no otlier reason ; for I Manted neither means nor liononrs, nor did I seek to enlarge cither. By my King's predecessors mine were raised to an high condition, it is ^^•ell knoMii to the country ; and it is well known, that l)y his enemies I am condemned to suffer by new and unknoM'n laws. The Lord send us our King again, and our old laws again, and the Lord send us our reli- gion again. " As for that which is practised now, it has no name, and methinks there is more talk of religion than any good effects of it. " Truly, to me it seems I die for God, the King, and the laws, and this makes me not he ashamed of my life, nor afraid of my death." ■ At which words. The King, and Laws, a trooper cried. We have no King, and we will have no Lords. Then some sudden fear of mutiny fell among the soldiers, and his Lordship was interrupted ; which some of the officers were troubled at, and his friends much grieved, his Lord- ship having freedom of speech promised him. His Lordship, seeing tlic troopers scattered in the streets, cutting and slashing the people with their swords, said, " What's the matter, gentlemen? where's the guilt? I fly not, and here is none to pursue you ? " Then his Lordship, per- ceiving he might not speak freely, turned himself to his servant, and gave him liis paper, and commanded him to let the world know what he had to say, had he not been disturbed ; which is as follows, as it was in my Lord's paper tmder his own hand : — " ^ly sentence (upon which I am brought hither) was by a council of war, nothing in the captain's case alleged against me ; which council I had reason to expect would have justified my plea for quarter, that being an ancient and honourable plea amongst soldiers, and not violated (that I know of) till this time, that I am made the first suffering pre- cedent in this case. I wish no other to suffer in the like case. " Now I must die, and am ready to die, I thank my God with a good conscience, without any malice, or any ground whatever; though others would not find mercy upon me, upon just and fair grounds; so my Saviour prayed for his enemies, and so do I for mine. " As for my faith and my religion, thus much I have at this time to say : " I profess my faith to be in Jesus Christ, who died for me, from M'hom I look for my salvation, that is, through his only merit and suffer- ings. And I die a dutiful son of the church of England, as it was established in my late master's time and reign, and is yet pi'ofessed in the Isle of I\Ian, which is no little comfort to me. " I thank my God for the quiet of my conscience at this time, and JAMES, EARL OF DERBY. 23i> the assurance of tliose joys tliat are prepared for those tliat fear liim. Good people, pray for nie, I do for you ; the Ood of heaven bless you all, and send you peace ; that God, that is truth itself, give you grace, j)eace, and truth. Amen." Presently after the uproar was ceased, his Lordship, walking on the scaffold, called for the headsman, and asked to see the axe, saying, " Come, friend, give it me into my hand, I'll neither hurt it nor thee, and it cannot hurt me, I am not afraid of it ;" but kissed it, and so gave it the headsman again. Then asked for the block, which was not ready ; and turned his eyes and said, " How long, Lord, how long?" Then putting his hand into his pocket, gave him two pieces t)f gold, saying, " This is all I have, take it, and do thy work well. And when I am upon the block, and lift up my hand, then do you your work ; but I doubt your coat is too burly (being of great black shag) it will hinder you, or trouble you." Some standing by, bid him ask his Lordship for- giveness, but he was either too sidlen, or too slow, for his Lordshij) forgave him before he asked him. And so passing to the other end of the scaffold, where his coffin lay, spying one of his chaplains on horse- back among the troopers, said, " Sir, remember me to your brothers and friends ; you see I am ready, and the block is not ready, Init when I am got into my chamber, as I shall not be long out of it (pointing to his coffin) I siiall be at rest, and not troubled with such a guard and noise as I have been ;" and so turning himself again, he saw the block, and asked if it was ready, and so going to the place where he began his speech, sail.-f ST /Ir«y.M/. A,,./, ANNE CLIFFORD, COUNTESS OF DORSET, PEMBROKE, AND MONTGOMERY. Jolin Knox, during his second residence at Geneva, put forth " Tlie first blast of the trumpet aii^ainst the monstrous regiment* of Momen." It was aimed at that JMary of England wlio was persuaded l)y priests and other ill-disposed persons to attempt the re-establishment of what slie conceived to be the CHURCH, by the exertion of her secular power. John Knox ought to have written " against the monstrous regiment of priests," which in kingdoms as in private families, is always most powerful o\er women, because women are more docile, more con- fiding, have a nuich greater yearning after Heaven than men. IMore- over, they are almost sole patentees of the virtue of self-denial, and it once they can be convinced that humanity, pity, toleration, or what you will, is a self-indulgence, and a self-seeking, it follows as necessarily as U after Q, that cruelty, hard-heartedness, and intolerance, are a morti- fication of tlie Hesh, meritorious exactly in proportion as it is painful. The priests of some religions undertake, for a consideration, to bear the sins of sucli (.f the laity as put trust in them. They may perhaps find, at last, that they have spoken more truth than they meant to do. It is no small portion of the sins of the earth, of which priests shall bear the blame, and the tvhole blame ; for the reluctant obedience of those who accepted them for the sake of the Lord, whose commission they had forged, shall not lose its reward. He that said that a cup of cold water, given for his sake, should not be given in vain, would take no exception, if for his sake, it Mere ignorantly given to Judas Iscariot. We have been induced to sound this " Counter-blast" to the " first blast of the Trumpet," because we believe that women, when they do err, err far more frecpiently from superstition, than from passion, and that their worst errors proceed from too great a distrust of their com- mon sense and instinctive feelings, and too great a reliance on men, or serpents, or priests, who ]>romise to make them \\ ise. Under the name priest, we comprehend all creatures, whether Catholic or Protestant, * i. e. Governmeut. 2h 242 ANNE CLIFFORD. clerks or laymen, who either pretend to have discovered a byeway to lieaveu, or give tickets to free the legal toll-gates, or set up toll-gates of their own ; or, either explicitly or implicitly discredit the authorised map, and insist upon it, that no one can go the right way, without taking them for guides, and paying them their fees. We then conclude, that the main disqualilication of women to rule, arises from the easiness with which they are ruled, and their proneness to give the reins into dishonest and usurping hands ; a fault so nearly allied to the christian virtues of humility, docility, and obedience, so germane to that gentle, coiifiding spirit, which is at (mce their safety and their peril, their strength and their weakness, that we doubt whe- ther the defining power of words can fix the land-mark between the good and the evil. It must be " spiritually discerned." But no good woman ivishes to rule. Ambition, a far deadlier sin, than the world conceives, and a degrading vice into the bargain, makes worse havoc in a female heart than in a male's. For the graces of womanhood are all womanly, — shy, timid, apt to ily from the most dis- tant approach of harm. In man, many virtues sometimes consort with a giant vice, as we read in the book of Job that there was a meeting of the sons of God, and that Satan came also among them. But in woman the dominance of any one evil passion is as the " abomination of desola- tion sitting where it should not ;" as the unclean spirit in the empty house that took seven spirits worse than itself, and dwelt with them. There are few instances in which ambitious women have even retained the conservative virtue of their sex. We do not recollect more than one virgin Queen in authentic history. But what is yet more fearful, ambi- tion perverts, where it does not extinguish, the maternal affection, and makes the holiest of feelings a mighty incentive to crime. Semiramis, Agripj)ina, and Catherine de Medici, are not the only instances that might be adduced of women who have not merely scrupled no wicked- ness for their sons' advancement, but actually corrupted the minds of their offspring, and plunged them into excess of sensuality, that them- selves might govern in their names. But we need not look so high to see the mischief at work. There is no situation on earth more unde- sirable than that of a portionless beauty with an ambitious mother. The mana'uvres, the falsehouds, to which parents who are poor and proud, will sometimes condescend, in order to bring about what is called a great match for a daughter, (that is to say, a connection ^^■ith a family by Avhom she will most likely be despised, even now, and in the good old times, might very probably have been poisoned,) far exceed the utmost inge- nuity of novelists to devise. And though it is to be hoped that such intrigiies and ])lottings arc comj)arativeIy rare in the cultivated part of ANNK CI.II TOKI). 243 society, yet how often is tlie happiness of young licarts s;uiiestow. For the facts which follow, Me are mainly indebted to Dr. Whitaker's History of Craven. The original seat of the Cliffords seems to have been in the JMarches of Wales : they afterwards accpiired a j)riucely property in Westmor- land. Robert, son of Roger de Clifford and of Isabella, co-heiress of the Viponts, born about 1274, was the first who connected the family with Yorkshire. " The situation of his estates on the confines of the Western INIarches, the military character of his family, and the period of turbu- lence and war wliich followed the death of Alexander the Third of Scotland, contributed to form him for an active and strenuous life. He was only nine years old at the deatli of his father, and about thirteen at the demise of his grandfather Roger, a long-lived and famous Baron in the reign of Henry the Third, and the earlier years of his son." "From his infancy," saith Sir Matthew Hale, " he was educated in the school of war luider King Edward I., as good a master for valour and prudence as the world afforded ; for by the record of the plea of the 14th Edward I., it appears that when he was not above nineteen years of age, sfetit iihjudicio regis juxta latus suum, the great business of the claim of the King of England to the superiority of Scotland being then in agitation, which doubtless was a time of high action, and fit to enter a young counsellor, courtier, and soldier. And this King, who well knew how to judge of men fit for action, was not wanting to su])ply this young Lord with employments befitting the greatness and towardness of liis spirit. And as it appears by the honours aud possessions conferred upon him from time to time by this Edward, the wisest of English kings, so he retained the like favour with his son Edward of Carnarvon, who, in the first year of his reign, granted him the office of Earl INIarshall of England. And by a fresh charter, dated at Carlisle 24th Se])t. 25 regni sui, the King, having entered Sc(ttland, and seized the lands of his f)j)])0sers, grants unto liim and his heirs the castle of Car- lavrock, in Scotland, and all the lands thereunto belonging, which were Robert iMaxwell's, and all the lands thereunto belonging, M'hich wei'e * Whitaker. ANNK CLiriOFU). 24.'j William Douj^Ias's, the Kind's enemy's, upon IVIary IVIandin's day, 26 Etlw. I., at which time he (l)(in(K) per annum land in Sctttland, witli an agreement, that if it did not arise to so much, it should he ma(k' g(»<)d out of other lands in Scotland, and if not, to defaulk. JJut these ac»pii- sitions of land in Scotland were not such as our Rohert could huild much upon : as they uere gotten by power, so tliey could not he pre- served or kept without ditHcuIty. Peace or war l)etween the tw(j nations nu'ght ])e fatal to these his purchases. The latter might make the retaining of them diHicult or casual, and the former might occasion a restitution of such prizes. Robert, therefore, not willing to build any great confidence on these debateable acquisitions, in the beginning of the reign of Edward II. cast his eye upon a more firm possession, and tliis was the castle, and house, and lionour of Skij)ton." So far for a sample of Sir IMatthew's style, Avliich is neitlier elegant nor particularly lucid. Robert de Clifford married IMutilda, one (»f the daugh- ters and co-heirs of Thomas de Clare. He was concerned in several of the invasions of Scotland, and probably as successful as any of the other marauders. In 1297 he entered Annandale with the power of Carlisle (of which he was Governor), and slew 1308 Scots near Annan Kirk. In 1301 he signed the famous letter from Edward II. to Pope Roniface VIII.,* claiming the seignory of Scotland, by the name of Chatellain of Appleby. In 130(5, immediately after the coronation of Robert Bruce, he entered Scotland with the Earl of Pembroke, and defeated Bruce at St. John's town. But he «ent upon his neighbour's land once too often, and was slain at Bannockburn, Jiuie 2oth, 1314; the most * No small part of the power assumed by the Popes in disposing of Kingdoms was authorised by the conduct of Kings and nations themselves, who admitted or denied that right as suited pri'sent couwiiionce, without ever looking to reniotcr conse- quences. Monarchs and factions phiyed otf the papal authority against each other. No Pontiff carried his pretensions higher than Boniface, who assumed the title of Master of all Kings, caused two swords to be carried before him, and added a second crown to the Tiard. Had he, however, always judged over Kings as justly as he did in the case of Scotland, the powers he claimed might well have been conceded to the then acknowledged head of the Christian Church. The Scotch had solicited his interftTfuce in thi'ir favour, which wxs virtually acknowk'dging his right to dispose of kingdoms. Hereupon he wrote a severe expostulation to Edward, commanding liim to desist from his oppressions, and demonstrating the rightful independence of the Scotch, as well by arguments of ancient history, as by the allowances and concessions of r.nglish Kings. To this letter Edward, who had ever been a rigorous dealer with the Church, replied in a bold strain, deriving his seignory over Seothuid frtiin ihe Trojan Brutus, and the times of Ely and Samuel, and appealing to Heaven with the usual insolence of regal hypocrisy. A lunidnil ami four Harons ;uvsembled in Parlia- ment at Lincoln set their seals to this m.4rumenl, in wliich they take care to inform 24() ANNE CLIFFORD. disastrous day Mhich England ever saw, but for M-liicli every true Briton, M-hcther born north or soiitli of the Tweed, is thankful. His body was sent by the victor to Edward II., at Berwick, but the |)lace of its interment is inicertain, though Dr. Wliitaker conjectures Bolton Abbey. Of this Robert, first Lord of Skipton of the Cliflx)rds, Sir INIatthew Hale observes that " he always so kept the King's favovu", that he lost not the love of the nobility and kingdom, and by that means had an easy access to the improvement of his honours and great- ness. He was employed upon all occasions, in offices of the highest triist, both military and civil, having the advantage of a most close education in his youth, under a Prince most eminent for both. He lived an active life, and died an honourable death in the vindication of the rights of his Prince and country." It will be remarked, that Sir INIatthew, in asserting the rujhtfulness of a usurpation unparalleled till the partition of Poland, only used a mode of speech familiar to former times, when it was always taken for granted that the claims of the English were just. Our elder poets, historians, and jurists always speak of the Scotch and of the French who adhered to their native princes as rebels.* Roger, second Lord Clifford of Skipton, joined the Earl of Lancas- ter's insurrection against Edward II., was severely wounded and taken prisoner at the battle of Boroughbridge, INIarch 16th, 1322, and sen- tenced to death, along ^ith Lancaster, and the other Lords, whom the Boniface, that though they had justified their cause before him, they did not acknow- ledge him for their judge.— Hilitcr of Hoiiry Pii(ls;iy, <»f Bolton, Es([., and widow of Sir TliouKis Tallxit, of Bashall, The old aire of this good man was sorely disturbed by the follies and vices of a disobedient son. It is not often that a parent complains pul>licly of his offspring. The sorrow of a despised father seeks con- cealment, not pity ; and what injury will not an old man endure before lie asks redress against liis child ? Clifford's affliction must have been great indeed, before lie was brought to write to a privy covmsellor such a letter as the following, mIhcIi we give un;dtered, except as to the spelling. It may serve to shew what sort of creature was the ijraceless of the IGth century. " I doubt not but ye remember M'hen I was afore you \\ ith other of the King's highness's council, and there I shewed unto you the ungodly and iiiKjudi'ly disposition of my son Henry Clifford in such wise as it was abominable to hear it: not only despiting and discibcying my com- mands, and threatening my servants, saying that if ought came to me he would utterly destroy all, as apppeareth more likcl}', in striking, with his own hand, my poor servant Henry Popely, in peril of death, which so lieth, and is like to die ; but also he spoiled my houses, and feloniously stole away my proper goods, which was of great substance, only of malice, and for maintaining his inordinate pride and riot, as more s])eedily did appear Avhen he came out of the court and into the country, apparelled himself and his horse in cloth of gold and gold- smith's work, more like a Duke than a poor Baron's son as he is. And moreover, I shewed unto you at that time his daily studying how he might utterly destroy me, his poor father, as well by slanders shameful and dangerous, as by daily otherwise vexing and distpiieting my mind, to the shortening of my poor life. And notwithstanding the premises, I, I)y the Kinrfs command, and your desire, have since given to him £40, and over that my blessing upon his good and lawful demeanor, desiring also that he should leave the dangerous and evil counsel of certain evil disposed persons, as ivell young Gents as others, which have before this given him dangerous counsel, whose counsels he daily follow- eth ; and where I shewed unto the King's grace and you, that if his shameful disjwsitions were not looked u])on, and something j)romised by his Highness, to bring him to dread (as the beginning of all wisdom is to dread God and his Prince), he shoidd be utterly luidone for ever, as well bodily as ghosth^, as apj)earetli at large not only by the increase of liis evil dispositions, but also seeking further to great Lords for maintenance, ^vherein he hath taken more Ijoldness, saying, that he shall cast doM'n one of my servants, though they be in my presence ; and vet moreover he in his country maketh debate between gentlemen, ANNK CI.lliUKI). 2."j3 Jirid ti-duMetli (livers houses of religion to hriiij; from them their tythes, shamefully beatiiiir their scrviuits ami tenants, in such w ise as some uliole towns are fain to kee|» the churches hoth night and day." We are n<»t informed whether the Kinir or his counsel took any means ol reclaiming this aristocratic young rohhcr, who in due time succeeded to his poor father's estates and honours. He is said, liowever, to have reformed like his namesake Henry the Fifth, whom he jjrohahly made his ])attern. We hope his father lived to see liis reformation.* Perliaj)s, after all, lie was not much worse than the licence of his age and rank was supposed to all(»w. To jilunder the defenceless habitations of their inferiors might be a privilege of gentle blood in the reign of the Eighth Harry, as to ruin and desert any woman whose male relatives A»ere not entitled to gentlemanly satisfaction has l>een accounted in more recent times. Aristocratic morals are as accommodating in one case as the other. The violence of Clifford and his associates points to the effects of a long civil Mar, and an imperfect civilizati<»n. \Vithin two years after his father's death Henry CliHord Aias advanced to the dignity of Earl of Cumberland. A very minute ♦The Rev. Rector ofWhalley seems to have ahnost forgottca his cloth when he speaks thus slightly of this prodiffal son and his sacrilegious robberies: — "Indeed the extravagances of a gay and gallant yonng nobleman, cramped in his allowance by a narrow father, under the inHnenee of a jealous step mother, were likely to meet with more than sufficient allow ance from the world. The method which this high-spirited yoiiiK/ man took to supply his necessities is characteristic of the times: instead of resorting to Jews and money-lenders, computing the value of his father's life," (he seems to have computed it at very little) " and raising large sums by anticipation, methods which are better suited to the calm unenterprising dissipation of the present age, young Henry Clifford turned outlaw, assembled a band of dissolute followers, harrassed the religious houses, beat their tenants, and forced the inhabitants of whole villages to take sanctuary in their churches." How lamentably dissipation has fallen aw ay from the reverend antiquary's good graces ! As for Dr. Whitaker's eonjcetun', that Henry Clifford was the hero of the Not- brouitc Mai/il, because that beautiful ballad was first printed in ).J2l, and containing the word xplecn could not have been composed much earlier, and because the hero of it pretends to be an outlaw, and afterwards describes Westmoreland as his heritage, we neither cordially embrace, nor scornfully reject it The ipral l;/na;ic of the lady certainly may agree with Lady Percy (whom Henry Clifford married), "and what," asks the Doctor, " is more probable, thau that this wild young man, among his other feats, may have lurked in the forests of the Percy family, and won the lady's heart under a disguise, which he had taken care to lussurc her eoncealeil a Knight.-" What is of more importance. Dr. Whitaker cannot suppose that lie continued his irregular course of life after his marriagi;. Of course he lived a.s virtuously after marriage iis the agreeable Rouet of a comedy is presumed to do after the dose of the fifth act. 2'A ANNE CLIFFORD. account of liis expenses on this occasion is printed in the history of Craven, which may he liiglily useful to tliose who investigate the com- parati\ e prices of commodities at different periods, as M'ell as to sucli as are curious ahout tlie manner of life among our ancestors. The expense of his Lordship riding to London with thirty-three servants was £7 16s. Id. Drunkenness was not among his vices, for his wine for five weeks cost only 3s. 4d.* Nine pounds a week were sufficient for the whole estahlishment of thirty-four men and horses in London. But the mention of these items would not only be tedious to the general reader, hut delusive also ; for not only were the prices diH'erent from what they are now, but the intrinsic value of the coins greater. It is rather more interesting to find that my Lord, on being created an Earl, gave a new livery to his chaplain, the parson of Guisely. The luxury of apparel in that age was excessive, and con- tinually called down the unavailing denunciations, the bruta fuL viina of the pulpit ; hut the parson of Guiseley was plainly dressed enough, nor was the Earl by any means extravagant in arraying his lady, albeit she was a Percy. In alms and offerings he was very econo- nomical : in hounds, hawks, and all that pertained to the sports of wood and field, he treated himself like a gentleman. The fee of a physician in 1525 was one pound. In this there has been little rise. A friar received four pence for singing mass. My Lord Derby's minstrels had three and four pence. Well might the clergy preach against those profane ballad-mongers, who were so much better paid than themselves. The first Earl of Cumberland had the address or fortune to retain the favour of Henry VIII., whose youthfid comrade he had been, till the end of his life. Seven years after his advance to an earldom he was honoured with the Order of the Garter; and a little before his death, on the final dissolution of monasteries, he received a grant of the priory of Bolton, with all the lands, manors, &c. thereunto pertaining, and otherwise shared in the church's spoils. This gift may have been intended as a reward for his loyalty and valour displayed in that alarm- ing rebellion, of which the plunder of the religious houses, and the favouritism of low-born persons (a glance at Lord Cromwell, the prin- cipal ])romoter of the supj)ression), were, if not the causes, the most plausible pretexts. Aske and his followers laid siege to Skij)ton Castle, and were joined by many retainers of the house of Clifford ; but the Earl held it out. It was but nineteen days before his death that Clifford became * The price of t\vo gallons of sack in Shakspeare's time was 5s. 8d. But the prices of all commodities had increased almost two-fold between the accession of Henry VJII. and the decease of Elizabeth. ANNK CLIFIOKI). 2;»;i furinally ])ossessplcbv MS. o-(; ANNE CLIFFORD. congratulate Quoen Eliza1)otli on her accession. Tlie only military transaction in w liicli lie appears to have been engaged was a few months before his decease, \ilien he assisted the Lord Scroop in fortifying Car- lisle against the rebels of li)69, when the Earls of Westmorland and Northumberlanil planned " the Rising of the North," which was ulti- mately so beneficial to the Clifford family, by enabling them to api)ro- ])riate the lands of the Nortons. He died just five days after he had finally concluded a match between his son George, then in his eleventh year, and the daughter of Francis Russel, second Earl of Bedford. The ])oor children, when they attained puberty, were obliged to stand by the impious and unnatural bargain. We need hardly say that the union was eminently unhajipy. Yet a father busied himself on his death bed in liringing it about, and reckoned it not among things to be repented of.* * It was no unusual thing in those times to which, by certain writers, we are referred for lessons of wisdom and examples of holiness, to contract marriages between con- tingent children, whose sex and very existence were yet undetermined. So completely was the first ordinance of God perverted to the pui-poses of ambition. The eftects upon general morality may be easily conjectured. The following document, relating to a former Lord C:iiftord, (tlu' Lord Thomas, who wxs slain at St. Alban's,) is so curious, that we need not apologize for its insertion a little out of chronological order: — " Be it known to all men, that for as Much as it is meritorie and medeful for every tnie christian man to testify and bare trae witness in every trae matter or cause; therefore we, William Itatclitle, being the age of five score yeres; Nicholas Whitfield, of 98 yeres; and John Thom, of 80 years, will record and testify, for verrey trawthe, that the Lord, Sir Thomas Clifford, marryed I'.li/.abf-th, his doghter, unto Robert Plumpton, the eldest son and heir of Sir William Plumpton, when she was but six yeres of age, and they were wedded at the chappel within the castell, at Skypton, and the same day one John Garthe bare her in his annes to the said chappel. And also itt was agreed at the same tyme that yf the foreseid Robert dyed witliin age, that then the said Lord Clifford should have the second son of the said Sir William Plumpton, unto his second doghter. And they were bot three years marryed when the said Robert dyed; and when she came to the age of twelve yeares she was marryed to William Plumpton, second son to the foresaid Sir William, and the said Sir William promised the said Lord C:iifford that they should not ligg togedder till she came to the age of sixteen yeres; and when she cam to eighteen yeres she bare Margarete, now Lady Roucliffe. And how as hath bene evydent imbeseled, or what as hath been doon syns, we cannot tell, but all that ys afore reherscd in thys bill we wyll make vt gode, and yf nede be, deeply depose the King and hys counsell, that yt is matter of trawthe, in any place wher we shal be comanded, as far as it is possible for sufh olde creatures to be carried to. In witness whereof, we, the said Wm. Nicholas and lohn have sett our scales the XXVIth of October, in the XIX yere of the reane of Kynge Henrie the Vllth. (A. D. 150.3). Contrary to our usual practice and intention, we have in this transcript presened the original orthogra-phy, as given by Dr. \\'liitaker, contractions excepted, that the ANNE CLIFFORD. 25? Gcorjjo Clifford, tliinl Karl of Cumbei-land, succccst virtues may be ascribed. Her improvement Mas in no particular neglected; but above all, she was nurtured in tin- precepts and practice of economy, self-denial, domestic order, and " Pure religion, teaching household laws." • is but grass. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth, bnt the word of our God shall stand for ever." 1 Peter i. 21 : For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass." * Wordsworth. Perhaps I oujfht to apologize for quoting this poet so often, but to pronuilgate by any means such a line as the above, surely needs no apology. Mr. "Wordsworth will, I doubt not, excuse me, if, admiring above measure the poetrj- of the sublime sonnet w-hich it concludes, I venture to object to the qiuTulous spirit which it breathes. That we are much worse than we ought to be, is unfortunately a standing truism, but that the "stream of tendency" is recently diverted from good to evil, I confidently deny. Ha\ing said this much, it is better to give the sonnet at once, for 1 am afraid that some one of my readers may not have a copy of Wordsworth's poems in his pocket, or even on his parlour window. Written in London, 180'>. " O friend, 1 know not which way 1 iniist look For comfort, being as 1 am opprest, ■2'J{) ANNE CLIFFORD. To all such book-learning as could edify or adorn her young mind she was skilfully and honestly guided by her Preceptor Daniel, who, in To think that now our life is only drest For show : mean handy-work of craftsman, cook, Or groom. We must run ghtterins;: like a brook In the open sunsliine, or we are unblest : The wealthiest man anionu; ns is the best. No grandeur now in nature or in book Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatiy, and these we adore. Plain living and high thinking are no more The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone, — our peace, our fearful innocence, And pure Religion, breathing household laws." Seldom has the same feeling, which is expressed so often, been expressed so beauti- fully; but is not the feeling itself a delusion, or rather, in minds like Wordsworth's, a voluntary illusioH ? (Jreater virtues were rendered \'isible by the trials of the past, than by the security of the present, but it was not the goodtiess of the times that called those virtues into act. Had there been no persecutors there would have been no martyrs: war and oppression make patriots and heroes; and wherever we hear of much alms giving, we may be sure that there is much poverty. If Anne Cliftbrd had not had a bad father and two bad husbands, and a long weary widowhood, and lived in days of rebellion, usurpation, and profligacy, she perhaps would have obtained no other record than that of a sensible, good sort of a woman, upon whose brow the coronet sat with graceful ease. Nay, it is possible, that the same disposition which her adver- sities disciplined to steady purpose, meek self-command, considerate charity, and godly fortitude, might, under better circumstances, have produced a most unamiable degree of patrician haughtiness. From reading the memoiis of her, and such as her, an imaginative mind receives a strong impression of the superior sanctity of former generations; but a little examination will prove that these high examples have always been elect exceptions, called out of the world— no measures of the world's righteousness. No period produced more saintly excellence than that in which Anne Clifford lived : in none were greater crimes perpetrated; and if we look to her later j'ears---never, in a christian age, was the average of morals so low. But the age was characterised more by the evil than the good, as Rochester's poems were much more characlcristical of Charles the second's times than Milton's. One thing is obvious, that if we are not better than our ancestors, we must be much worse---if we are not wiser than the ancients, we nmst be incorrigible fools. God forbid that I should glory, save in the glory of (iod. God forbid that I should flatter the men of my own generation, or detract one atom from the wise or good of ages past. What we are we did not make ourselves; whatever trath perfumes our atmosphere, is the flower of a seed planted long ago. We do not, we need not do more than cultivate and improve our paternal fields. But to deny that we arc benefitting by the labours of our forefather, morally as well as physically, would be impious ingratitude to tliat Great Power wliich hath gi\i'n, and is giving, and will give the wish, and the will, and the power, and the knowledge, and the means to do the good which he willcth and doeth. Much, \ery much, remains to do. It ib no time to sit down self-complaceutly, and ANNE CLIFFORD. 271 his address to aiiotlicr iKihlc Lady — Luty, Countess of JJt'dford, has so well set fortli the use of hooks, wliat they can, and what tliey cannot do : And though books, Madam, caiiiiot make the mind, (Which we must bring apt to be set aright) Yet do they rectify it in that kind; And touch it so as that it turns that way, Where judgmeut lies: and though we cannot find, The certain place of truth, yet do they stay And entertain tis near about the same; And give the soul the best delight tliat way, Enchant it most, and most our spirits inflame To thoughts of glory, and to worthy ends : And therefore in a course that best became The clearness of your heart, and best commends Your worthy powers you run the rightest way By which when all consumes, your fame shall live. If Anne couhl read all the hooks represented in the picture wliere she is j)()rtrayed as a damsel of thirteen, she must have l)een a learned little lady indeed — for anionj; them are Eusehius, St. Augustine, Josephus, and Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia. But Pictoribus atque Poetis Quidlibet audendi semper fuit aequa potestus. as Horace has it — thus (piaintly Englished hy Tom Brown the third. To Bards or Limners there is no denying An equal privilege of dauntless lying Yet as her funeral panegyrist asserted she could discourse well upon all snl)iects — from predestination to Slea-Silk — we may c(»nclude that she studied the fathers in the original languages. Among the papers at Skipton Castle is an original hook of accounts, tilled M-ith memoranda relative to this young lady's education, from 1000 to 1002, from which Whitaker has given copious extracts. We shall select such items as are most characteristic, or throw light on the count our gains; but neither is it a time to stretch out our arms vainly to catch the irrevocable past We can neither stand still nor go backward, but striving to go backward, we may go lamentably astray. There is one line in Mr. Wordsworth's sonnet, against which, for his own sake, I must enter my protest: " No grandeur now in nature or in book Delights us." If by "us," he means the numerical majority of the population, T answer, that many more are awake to the grandeur and beauty of nature now tluin at any former ;era: if he means that the mind and soul of England is insensible to the sublime, in the visible or in the intellectual world, let him only consider tlie number of young, and pure, and noble hearts, that have joyfully acknowledged the grandeur of his tw/i, and let liim unsav the slander. 272 ANNE CLIFFORD. liabits and economy of Elizubetli's latest days. All books, whaterer the subject, were then introduced Mitli a text or an ejaculation. The same was the case a\ itli the old metrical romances, which regularly Ijcsrin and conclude with addresses to the Saviour, the Virgin or tlie Saints : often strangely inconsistent with the matter which they pre- face. Stage-plays also, M'erc finished with a prayer. No wonder that grave citizens guarded their ledgers with scripture, and still less that a young female's pocket book should commence with a petition to be used on entering church: "O Lord increase our faith, and make us evermore attentive hearers, true conceivers, and diligent fulfillers of thy heavenly will." After come these lines, supposed to be in the hand- writing of Daniel: — To wish and will it is my part, To you good lady, from my heart The years of Nestor, God you send, With happiness to your live's end. She was at this time in London, under the care of Mistress Taylor; the whole receij)t f(ir the two years amounting only to £38. 12s. Id., and the disbursements to £35. 13s. 3d. The extravagance and neg- lect of the Earl her father, who is never mentioned in this book, reduced the good Countess her mother, to a state, bordering on poverty. Nor had he anything to spare for his daughter. But better fathers than George Clifford, were, in that age, often careless and unatfectionate to their female children. The want of a male heir is a great mortification to an aristocratic family. What, however, was deficient in the alloAV- ances of her parents, was supplied in some measure, in presents from noble ladies, particidarly the Countesses of Northumberland, Derby, and War- wick, who used to fetch her to visit them in their own coaches, and sent her donations, sometimes in gold, sometimes silver groats, threepences, &c. in small silver barrels, often in trinkets, venison, (what would a young lady of these days think of a whole stag at a time,) fruit, fish, &c. The mother's directions for her dress and management are numerous and minute. But to proceed with our extracts. Item. A reward for finding her Ladyships golden picture lost, 15s. Rather high. By some unaccountable syncope of memory or xmderstanding. Dr. Whitaker asks upon this article — "Were there any miniatures at this time?" Has he forgotten Portia's Caskets? Has he forgotten, or did lie never read a play called Hamlet, written near the time which he is iiKpiiring about? If the pictures Hamlet shevvs to the Queen M'ere not miniatures, but full length portraits, yet there is another passage which ANNE CI.IFFORIX 273 [)Uts the (|uestioii to rest at unce, — "It is not very strange ; for my uncle is king of J^enmark, and those who m ouhl have made moutlis at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, and a hundred ducats a j)iece for liis picture in little." The wearing of miniatures, richly set in gold, j)earls, or diamonds was a fashion in the C(turts of Kliza- heth and tlie first Stuarts. Ililiard, and the elder Oliver, the first Englishmen, who could ho called artists, were l»otli miniature ])ainters, and hoth living in IGOO. Another item, in her Ladyship's acc(»unts is, an ivory hox to put a picture in, xiid. Now surely a picture contained in a tM'elve-])enny box of ivory," must have lieen as minute as any of Petito's, famous as he was for inserting portraits into rings, bracelets and seals. Possibly the Doctor lias confounded miniature in general, with nn'niature in enamel. It is afflicting to think how the free and graceful niotions of childhood liave been constrained and distorted by the absurdities of fashion. The Ljidy Anne did not wholly escape. We find among her memoranda 7s- to a French woman for a Rabato wyre: this by its high price must have been a new-fan';>• him tell the story. What an admirable mixture for this world, is conceit and servility — Hear hiui. " At my departure I told her Ladijahtp that I did intend, God willing, to ride over, and do my duty to your Lordship ; wishing that it would please God that all differences between your Honour and her Ladyship were well composed; which reconciliation was also generally wished and expected in the south parts, and would, no doubt be soon brought to pass, if some that made profit of your Hoiiotir's ditfe- reiices, and loved to fish in troubled waters, were not the impcdinifiits of it. Her Honour desired and enjoined me to say plainly, what was generally spoken hereof, and what the world conceived of her. 1 was loath, but, being commanded, used words to this effect : Your Ladyship is held to be very honorable, much devoted to religion, very respective unto ministers and preachers, very charitable unto the poor: vet under favour, some do tax your Honour to be too much affected to r/o to lair. That is said my Lady, that I am contentious and over ruled by busy wrangling fellows. (I did humbly crave pardon for my plainnesss.) Sir, I do like you much the better for your plainness: and if my Lord of runihcrland will make me any honourable offers, I will deceive the world, or thcni that Ihmk me gi\ eu to law." 278 ANNE CLIFFORD. Clifford." She M-as, by her daughter's testimony, " of a great natural M it and judgoniont, of a sweet disposition, truly religious and virtuous, and indowod with a large share of those four moral virtues. Prudence, Justice, Fortitude, and Temperance. — By industry and search of records slie brought to liglit the then unknown title which her daughter liad to the ancient Baronies, Honors, and Lands of the Viponts, Cliffords, and Vescys. So as wliat good shall accrue to her daughter's posterity, by tlie said inheritance, must next under God, be attributed to her." Some notion may be formed of the common course of a noble and pious lady's studies, in those days, from the books depicted over the Countess's portraits, to wit, " A written hand book of Alkimee, Extractions of Distillations, and excellent medicines. All Senekae's works translated out of Latine into English. The Holy Bible, the old and new Testament."* "On the 14th of IMarch, 1017, the King took upon himself the awarding of a long difference betwixt the male and female branches of the House of Clifford, and ordered that Lady Anne the Countess of Dorset, and the Earl her husband, should make a conveyance of the Honor of Skij)ton, and other the ancient baronies, honors, and Lands of the Viponts, Cliffords, and Vescys remainder to his first, and other sons intail, remainder to the Countess for life, remainder to her first, and otlier sons, remainder to her remainders ; and £ 20,000 to be paid by the Earl of Cumberland to the Earl of Dorset. To this award the two Earls subscribed ; but notwithstanding the potency of the Earl of Cumberland, the will of the King, and the importunity of a husband, the Countess refused to submit to tlie award." t The few years immediately ensuing, past heavily enough for the Countess, but without furnishing any memorable grief for history. She was now become a mother. She was successively bereaved of three boys ; and, considering the temper of the man and of the times, it is probable that her maternal affliction was rather insulted by her husband's reproaches, than lightened by his participation. For the failure of heirs male, though the Chiu'ch would not allow it for a groiuid of divorce, was often made l)y royal and noble spouses a ground of neglect and ill-usage. And she might look on her tuo little daughters, with S(jmewhat of the feeling of the Indian woman, who justified herself to the missionary for destroying her female child, by recounting the mani- fold miseries from which she was delivering it. Yet slie speaks of him as if she never ceased to feel pride in his manly faculties and accom- plishments, " He was," she tells us " in his nature of a just mind, of * Inscriptiou on the family picUirc— Ibid. f Sir Matthew Hale ANNE CLIFFORD. 279 a sweet disposition, and very valiant ; that lie excelled in every sort of learning all the youn^ noldiity M'itli wIkioi lie studied at Oxford; and that he was a true patriot and an eminent jtatron of scholars and soldiers." She (htes not however scruple to record the uneasiness which she sustained from his extravagant m aste of his own estates, and from his eagerness to sign away her patrimonial rights for present accommo- dation. Such was his "excess of expense in all the ways to which money can be applied," according to Clarendon " that he so entirely consumed almost the whole great fortune which descended to him, that when he was forced to leave the title to his younger brother, he left in a manner nothing to him to support it." He died in 1024, leaving two daiigliters, of whom the eldest IMargaret, married John Tufton, Earl of Thanet, through whom the ancient possessions of the Clifford's inWestmorland and Craven have descended. The yoiuiger, Isaljella, was married to Compton, Earl of Northani])ton. Horace Walpoie mentions among the IM.S. relics of Lady Anne — iMemoirs of the Earl (»f Dorset, lier first husband ; but no such work has yet come to light, nor is it to be supposed, that she Mould willingly record tlie niisdoings of one, Avhom j)ride, if not tenderness, would forbid her to expose, and of whom truth forbad her to be an eulogist. Little is written or remembered of her six ensuing years of widow- hood. As her uncle, the Earl Francis, by virtue of the King's award, kept possession of her lands and castles in tlie north, she probably resided much with her maternal relatives the Russels. She took care, liowever, still to assert her claims, for it is on record, that in 1628, and afterwards in 1632 she made her entries into tlie lands ; a legal recipe for rescusitating a right from a state of suspended animation, the methoil of which Me do not preciselv understand. At the mature age of forty-(jne, she entered a second time into the marriage state, being redded on the third day of June, 1630, to Philip Herbert, Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery. We regret that Me cannot detail the place and particidars of their courtshij), or in any satisfactory manner account for a Mise and staid matron, not inexperi- enced in conjugal trials, and the mother of tMo children, throMing herself aMay upon one mIio has come doMii to posterity in the character of an ingrate, an ignoramus, a common SMearer, a bully, and a com ard. Pei-haps tlie natural defects of this eccentric person have been exagger- ated by the royalist writers, for his ingratitude to his royal master, and the odious offices in Mhich he served the Parliament, made him hateful to many, and contemptible to all. At the period of his marriage M ith the Lady Anne, he m as considered as a rising courtier, being Lord Chamberlain of the King's Household, and Warden of the Stanneries O^O ANNE CLIFFORD. in tlie former of which capacities lie broke, with his official wand, in the precincts of the Pahice of Whitehall, the head of Tliomas INIaye, the Poet and Parliamentary Historioijrapher ; and in the latter, he «as near driving the {icople of Cornwall and Devon (then, as now, the most loyal of counties) into reljellion, by his oppressions and extortions. He was of a most distinguished family : his mother was the sister of Sir Philip Sidney;* his l)rother and })redecessor was Chancellor, and a great benefactor of the University of Oxford,— Lord Herbert of Cher, bury, and the pious George Herl)ert Mere among his kindred; yet is he said to ha\c been so illiterate, as hardly to know how to write his name. But he had a handsome person, which he was an adept at adorning. Though his temper Avas liable to escapes and sallies which beget a suspicion of insanity, he possessed, in his lucid intervals^, the art and mystery of disguise in great perfection, so that an old gossiping writer + calling him the "young worthy Sir Philip," and remarking his sudden favour with King James, observes, " that he carries it without envy, for he is very luunble to the great Lords, is desirous to do all men good and hurt none." He was the spoiled child of the court, where he made his appearance in his sixteenth year, "and had not been there two hoiu-s but he grew as bold as the best." According to Osborn, he was notorious for "breaking wiser heads than his own;" not always however with impunity, for "having the gift of a coward to allay the gust he had in quarrelling," he received, and did not revenge, a public and personal castigation at a horse-race from Ramsay, afterwards Earl of Holderness. — These certainly were the follies of his youth ; and in 1630 he was a widower of forty-five. His large estate, and the repu- tation of great court interest might induce the Lady Anne to give ear to his addresses, in the hope that he would be the means of recovering her ancestral possessions. But so it is, that men, endued with no other talent, do sometimes possess extraordinary power over the best and wisest women, and not least over those whose youth is fled. What happiness the Countess enjoyed in her new connection, is manifest from the following letter, addressed to her uncle Edward, Earl of Bedford, preserved in the Harleian Collection. — " My Lord, — Yesterday by ]Mr. Marshc I received your Lordship's letter, by which I perceived how much you were troubled at the report of my being sick, for which I humbly thank your Lordship. I was *This Lady was the Countess of Pembroke to whom her brother addresed his "Arcadia"---not the Lady Anne Clifford, as has been absurdly asserted. Sir Philip Sidney was killed three years before Anne was born. What a murderer of pretty tales is that same chronology ! f Rowland White. ANNK CI.IFFORU. '2V,l SO ill as I (lid ni:il\\ to my Lord, and ])ut it enclosed in a letter of mine to my Lady of Carnarvan, as desiriuij; her to deliver it to her father, which I know she will do with all the advantage she can, to further this business; and if your Lordship will join with her in it, you shall atfnrd a charitable and a most acceptable favour to your Lordship's cousin, and Innnble friend to command. Anne Pkmbrokk." Ramossbury, this 14th of January, 1638. ''If my Lord should deny my coming, then I desire yoiu- Lordship I may understand it as soon as may be, that so I may order my poor business as well as I can without any one coming to town ; for I dare not venture to come up without his leave, lest he should take that occasion to tiirn nie out of his house, as he did out of Whitehall, and then I shall not know M'hcre to put my head. I desire not to stay in the town above ten days, or a fortnight at the most." Yet in her memoirs she speaks of him as a good wife should ever speak of a deceased husband, were it but for her own credit — ^_just hints at his faults, and magnifies his merits, for she tells us he had a very ([uick apprehension, a sharp understanding, and a discerning spirit, w ith a very choleric nature, and that he was, " in all respects one of the most distinguished noblemen in England, and well beloved throughout the realm." There could be no purpose of deception here, (for these memoirs were never meant to meet the public eye ;) unless she wished to exten- uate her unlucky choice to her own posterity. It is an amusing, if not a very useful sjjeculation, to imagine how certain persons would have acted and thought, under certain circum- stances and opportunities, in which the said persons never happened to be placed. We could for instance, compose a long romance of the heroic actions which Anne Clifford u'ould have performed in the civil war, had she been possessed of her broad lands and fenced Castles. She might liave made Skipton or Pendragon, as famous as Lathom and ^\'ar(lour. She was a firm royalist ; for though she had small reasons to love Kings or Courts, she was a true lover of the Church. But at the breaking out of the conflict, her northern holds were in the feeble, though loyal h.ands of her cousin Henry ; and w hen, at the death of the last Earl of Cumber- land, her title became undisputed, Skipton was already in a state of siege, 2n 282 ANNE CLIFFORD. and it was long before the hostile parties left her lands free for her en- trance. Whatever assistance slie may have given to the royal cause, must have been in direct contradiction to her husband's will, for he, in revenge for tlie loss of his Chamberlain's staff, of which he was deprived for raising a brawl in the House of Lords, carried the power of his wealth, and the disgrace of Ins folly, to the Roundhead faction. By some means or other he was, on the attainder of Laud, appointed Chancellor of Oxford ; and thougli most deservedly stripped of that honour by King Charles, who set the noble Marquis of Hertford in his place; yet, on the prevalence of the Presbyterian party, to M'hich he professed great devotion, he was restored; and conducted, with what courtesy and gentleness may Mell be conjectured, the expidsion of the Episcopalians from their colleges. No wonder that he was contemptuously hated by the royalists ; or that this hatred broke out in keen and bitter libels (if truth be libellous) immediately after his death ; for those were not days when rancour resj)ected the sanctity of the tomb. He just outlived the monarchy, aud divesting himself of the rank which he disgraced, accepted a seat in the Rump Parliament for Berkshire. He died January 23, 1649-50. We can hardly call the following a jeu-d'espirt, for it is not in a very playful spirit. It has been attributed to Samuel Butler, and was print- ed in one sheet, fol. under the title of " The last Will and Testament of Philip &c." " I, Philip, late Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery, now Knight for the County of Berks, being, as I am told, very weak in body, bnt of perfect memory (for I re- member this time five years I gave the casting voice to dispatch old Canterbury; and this time two years I voted no address to my master; and this time twelvemonth brought him to the block) yet, because deatli doth threaten aud stare upon me, who have still obeyed all those who threatened me, I now make my last Will and Testament. " Imprimis, for my soul : I confess I have heard very much of souls, but what they are, or whom they are for, God knows, I know not. They tell me now of an- ther world, where I neyer was, nor do I know one foot of the way thither. While the King stood, I was of his religion, made my son wear a cassock, and thought to make him a Bishop : then came the Scots, and made me a Presbyterian ; and, since Cromwell entered, I have been an Independent. These I believe are the kingdom's three Estates, aud if any of these can save a soul, I may claim one. Therefore, if my Executors do find I have a soul, I give it him that gave it me. " Item, I give my body, for I cannot keep it ; you see the Chirurgion is tearing off my flesh : therefore bury me. I have church-land enough. But do not bury me in the church porch ; for I was a Lord, and could not be buried where Colonel Pride was born. "Item, my will is to have no monument; for then I must have epitaphs, and verses ; but all my life long I have had too much of them. " Item, 1 give my dogs, the best curs ever man laid leg over, to be divided among the council of state. Many a fair day have I followed my dogs, and followed the ANNE CLIIIUKIJ. 283 states, both night and day: went whither they sent me; sat where they bid me; sometimes with Lords, sometimes with Commons ; and now can neither go nor sit Yet, whatever becomes of me, let not my poor dogs want their iillowunce, nor come within the ordinances for one meal a week. " Item, I give two of my best saddle horses to the Karl of Denbigh, for I fear ere long his own legs will fail him: but the tallest and strongest in all my stables I give to the Academy, for a vaulting horse for all lovers of vertu. All my other horses I give to the Lord Fairfax, that when Cromwell and the states take away his commission, his Lordship may have some Horse to command. " Item, 1 give my hawks to the Earl of Carnarvon. His father was Master of the Hawks, to the King; and he has wit, so like his father, that I begged his wardship, lest in time he should do so by mo. "Item, I give all my deer to the Earl of Salisbury, who I know will preserve them, because he denied the King a buck out of one of his own parks. " Item, I give my chaplains to the Earl of Stamford, in regard he never used any but his son the Lord Grey, who, being thus both spiritual and carnal, may beget more Monsters. " Item, I give nothing to the Lord Say, which legacy I give him because I know he'll bestow it on the poor. " Item, to the two Countesses, my sister and my roifc, I now give leave to enjoy their estates. But my own estate I give to my eldest son, charging him on my blessing to follow the advice of Michael Oldworth ; for, though I have had thirty thousand pounds per annum, I die not in debt, above four score thousand pounds. " Item, because I threatened Sir Hariy Mildmay, but did not beat him, I give fifty pounds to the footman who cudgelled him. "Item, my will is that the said Sir Harry shall not meddle with my jewels. I knew him when he served the Duke of Buckingham, and, since, how he handled the crown j ewels, for both which reasons I now name him the knave of diamonds. " Item, to Tom May, whose pate I broke heretofore at a masque, I give five shil- lings : I intended him more, but all who have read his History of the Parliament think five shillings too much. " Item, to the author of the libel against ladies, called news from the New Ex- change, I give threepence, for inventing a more obscene way of scribbling than the world yet knew ; but, since he throws what's rotten and false on divers names of unblemished honour, I leave his payment to the footman that paid Sir Harry -Mild- may's arrears; to teach him the difference 'tvvixt wit and dirt, and to know ladies that are noble and chaste from downright roundheads. " Item, I give back to the assembly of divines, their classical, provincial, congre- gational, national : which words I have kept at my own charge above seven years, but plainly find they'll never come to good. " Item, as I restore other men's words, so I give to Lieutenant-General Cromwell one word of mine, because hitherto he never kept his own. " Item, to all rich citizens of London ; to all Presbj'terians, as well as cavaliers, I give advice to look to their throats; for, by order of the states, the garrison of Whitehairhave all got poignards, and for new lights have bought dark lauthorns. "Item, I give all my printed speeches to these persons following, viz. — that speech which 1 made in my own defence when the seven Lords were accused of high treason 1 give to Sergeant Wild, that luroafter he may know what is treason, and what is not: and the speech I made extejnporc to the Oxford scholars I give to the Earl of Man- 284 ANNE CLIFFORD. Chester, speaker, pw tempore, to the House of Peers before its reformation, and Chancellor, pro tnupurv, of Cambridge University since the reformation. But my speech at my election, which is my speech without an oath, I give to those that take the eugagement, because no oath hath been able to hold them. All my other speeches, of what colour soever, I give to the academy, to help Sir Balthaser's Art of well speaking. " Item, I give up the ghost." We trust there is no harm in being amused at this Testament, though no possible provocation could justify such profane scoffing at the nakedness of a soul. It were better, at least no worse, that we were ignorant or forgetful of immortality, — never thought of death but as the bursting of a bubble, w the ceasing of a sound, — than that we should turn "the judgment to come" into an argiunent of malice, and meditate on the dissolution of a fellow sinner, without fear of God, or charity for man. But this truly sarcastic composition was produced in an angry, persecuting, and persecuted time, and persecution pro- duces more zeal than piety on all sides. Lady Anne, who for some years had been separated from her husband, now entered on her second widowhood, witli an ample fortune, and the consolation of reflecting, that her late spouse's politics had preserved her estates from sequestration. Though she could hardly have much loved a man, vhom it was impossible for her to esteem, she heard not of his death with indifference. To any feeling heart, there is a peculiar sadness in the decease of those, that have once been dear, and afterM'ards estranged. Caldecott, the Earl of Pem- broke's Chaplain, informed her of his master's interment in a letter, which has not been perfectly preserved, but M'hich shews, that she retained no resentment against the dead, though perhaps no clerk in O.xford had received such cruel injuries at his hands. Here may properly be inserted the Lady's own account of her wedded life, — " I must confess with inexpressible thankfulness, that, through the goodness of Almighty God, and the mercies of my Saviour Jesus Christ, Redeemer of the world, I was born a happy creature in mind, body, and fortune ; and that those two Lords of mine, to whom I was afterwards by divine Providence married, were in their several kinds as worthy noblemen as any there were in this kingdom; yet it was my misfortune to have contradictions and crosses with them both. With my first Lord, about the desire he had to make me sell my rights in the land of my ancient inheritance f<»r a sum of money, whichi never did, nor ever woiUd consent unto, insomuch, that tliis matter was the cause of a long contention betwixt us ; as also, for his profusion in consuming his estate, and some other extravagancies of his: and with my second Lord, ANNK CLIFFORD. 28;") hecausc my younf^est dau^litcr, the Lady Isabella Sackvillc, would not be brougfit t(» many one of bis vounj^er sons, and that I «oidd not relin(|iiisb my interest 1 bad in five thousand jtounds, beinj; part expedition, that it was thus hardly dealt with. 286 ANNE CLIFFORD. resided almost wliolly on her northern domains, " where she Avent about doiner. Such miiiutiii; she deliglitcd to record of hersrif, and m(! raiinot thiidv them altoffcther uiiinterestiii<;, since slie tliought tlicm worthy of preservation. We know not wlietlier it was on this or some subse<|uent visit that slie erected " The Countess' Pillar," a stately olx;lisk, on the Roman road called the Maiden-way% the remains of which still mark the snot, where she parted with her mother for the last time. As she was not one to " dwell in ceiled j)alaces, while tlie Lord's House lay waste," she soon repaired the church of Skipton ; renewed the tondjs of her two little brothers, and erected a magnificent marble mo- nument to her father, adorned with the armorial bearings of the various noble families whose blood mingled in his veins. On this she inscribed a long epitaph, chiefly remarkable for the assurance that it contains, that he died penitently, meaning that he had much to rej)eut of, and tliat she lierself was his sole surviving hujifimate offspring, an innuendo which the delicacy of a modern daughter would have avoided. But Anne could never forget her mother's injuries. There are yet families in Craven, which might claim a sinister descent from Georffe. Earl of Cumberland. Lady Anne has been much and justly com- mended for her care of her first husband's spurious oflTspring; but we are not told how she behaved to her l)rothers and sisters of the half-blof>d. In honouring the remains of her father, she acted froni the combined feelings of pride and duty ; but the marble statue which she raised at Appleby to her mother, was the ofliiring of pure afifection. Her tleep and reverential love for that good parent seems to have been the warmest feeling of her soul ; it breaks out in every page of her memoirs. What- ever good she obtained or achieved, whatever evil she escaped or sur- moiuited, she attributes to her mother's prayers. In one passao'e she makes a long enumeration of the perils she had gone tlirough from fire, from -water, from coaches, from fevers, and from excessi\e l)loedin<''s simply to ascribe her deliverance to the prevailing holiness of her mother. Her general residence was at Brougham or Appleby, but she visited all her six castles occasionally, and describes the particulars of her movements with rather tedious minuteness. Shortly before the restora- tion, the existing powers insulted her by placing a garrison in her renovated mansion of Skipton; j-et this did not j>revent her from i^oin" thither early in 1658, and passing some weeks among these unin\ ited guests. " Thus removing from castle to castle, she diffused plenty and happiness around her, by consuming on the spot the produce of her vast domains in hospitality and charity. Ecpially remote from the undistin- guishing profusion of ancient times, and the parsimonious elegance of 288 ANNE CLIFFORD. modern manners, lier liouse was a scliool for tlie j-^oimg, and a retreat for the ao-ed ; an asyl>"« for the persecuted, a college for the learned, and a ])attern for all." "^ She was not without a touch of superstition ; but her superstition never infected her religion. It was rather tlie result of lier circum- stances than of her convictions. It consisted in believing herself the charge not only of a divine providence, but of a personal destiny. We have already seen lier writing of her " ha])py Genius." Now, tlie term Genius, was then seldom or never used in its modern sense, (though the kindred words Geny, and Ingene sometimes were so,) but in its original Roman acceptation, of a presiding and directing power. It is plain too, that she had a leaning towards judicial astrology, in which her father, who as the melancholy knight, complains that he has been deceived by prophecies, also partook, as may appear from these ^, ,^j.^]g . " So as old ]\Ir. John Denham, a great astronomer, that some- time lived in my father's house, would often say, that I had much in me in nature to shew that the sweet influences of the Pleiades, and the Bands of Orion, mentioned in Job, were powerful botli at my conception and nativity." But this is only one form of a belief which all mankind, in spite of themselves, entertain,— the one thing in which the devout and the atheist agree. It was pro1)ably about her sixty-tliird year that she emi)loyed some nameless artist to compile the famous family picture. Its merit as a ^vork of art may not be very high, but it need not have exposed the Countess to reproach for parsimony for not engaging the pencil of Van- dyke or Mytens, which a learned author gravely assures us were at her command. ' Vandyke had been dead more than a dozen years before the earliest possible date of this picture. Nor Mould any painter, who was above practising the mechanical part of his business, have willingly undertaken a work which was to include so many coats of arms, so many written pedigrees. A fine composition was not what the Lady wanted, but a plain prose representation of the lineaments of those most dear to her. She was a patroness of poets and a lover of poetry, yet we do not read that she employed a bard for her land-steward, or that her leases were in rhyme. The picture, Ijesides several detaclied half-length portraits, such as those of Daniel and of Mrs. Taylor, her tutor and governess, consists of a centre and two wings ; the centre representing her father, mother, and Ijrother, and each of the wings her own likeness at diiferent periods of life,_the one, as a maiden of thirteen ; the other, as a widow in her grand climacteric. In the latter she is depicted as clothed in a black * Wbitaker. ANNE CLIFFORD. 2H9 sorjjo li:il)it, witli sad-coloured liood, tlic usiud lialiiliinouts of lit-r dt'diiiin^ \THrs. Books are introduced into botli, as if purposely t(t shew that the love of reading acquired in her youth had lasted to her old age ; m Inch was so truCj that when the decay of her sight forbad her to read f<»r herself, she employed a regular reader. But it ap])ears that, as she grew older, she limited her studies more within the range of her practical duties ; for while her youthful cftigy is attended by Eusebius, Godfrey of Bulloigne, and Agrippa do Vanitate Scientiaruni, the maturer image has only Charron on Wisd<»m,a Book of Distillations and rare INIedicines, and the ]iible. To have revived the martial and festal magnificence of the past would have accorded neither m ith her means nor her mind : but she maintained all that was best in the feudal system ; the duteous inter- dependence of superiors and inferiors, the lasting ties between master and servant, the plain but ample hospitality, and the wholesome adher- ence to time-honoured customs. Large as her revenues were, her expenditure, especially in building, M'as such as to leave little for idle parade. She rebuilt or repaired six castles and seven churches, and foiuided two hosj)itals. So strictly did she earn the character of a restorer, that finding an ancient yew in one of the courts of Skipton destroyed by the besiegers, she took care to have another ])lantcd pre- cisely in the same place, which some years ago was stiinding, and a noble tree. The Restoration made nr) improvement in her fortunes (except that she was no longer saddled with garrisons), and no alteration in her mode of life. In the court of Charles her virtue would have been as little recommendation as her grey hairs. She took little interest in the politics of anv kingdom but her own; for M'hile she noted down every thing, however minute, that related to her own household or estates, — as repairs, boundary ridings, death or marriage of domestics, entertain- ing of judges at assizes, &c., she seldom mentions any thing of the general affairs of the country, but such as everybody must have known. Yet it is to a supposed jxditical transaction that the revival of her celebrity Mas owing. Though few have not heard of her reply to the ]\Iinister, who had attempted to interfere Avith her rights of nomina- tion in the late borough of Appleby, of blessed memory, it is necessary to insert it here : — " I have been bullied by a usurper, I have been neglected by a court, b\it I will not be dictated to by a sulyect. Your man shan't stiuul. Anne Dorset, Pembroke, and ^Montgomery. " This letter was first published in the periodical called ''The AV'orld." in 17«>3. The paj)or in w liicli it ap])ears is imputed to Ilorare Walpi»le, •2o 290 ANNE CLIFFORD. who has introduced Lady iVnnc among tlic " Royal and Noble Authors," for the sake of re})eating it. The original has never been produced, nor does the writer in the "World" explain how he came by it. Recently, a considerable degree of doubt has arisen with regard to its authenticity. It is argued that, "■ fond as the Countess was of recording even the most insignificant affairs of her life, there are no traces of it, nor of the circinnstance which is said to have occasioned it, in her memoirs ; nor does the work in which it first appeared condescend to favour us with any hint of reference to the original authority from M hich it was derived. The measured construction and the brevity of each individual sentence, — the sudden disjunctiou of the sentences from one another, — the double repetition, in so small a space, of the same phrase, and the studied conciseness of the whole, are all evidently creatures of modern taste, and finished samples of that science of composi tion, which had then (I mean when the Coiuitess acqiiired her habits of writing) scarcely dawned on English prose. No instance, I think, can be found of the verb " stand " having been used at that time in the sense to which it is applied to this letter, nor was the quaint and coarse word " bidly " known but as a substantive." * We cannot enter into the minutiaj of this criticism, but we agree in the main, that the letter is a very weak invention, and very much out of character. Such laconic abruptness, such angry contempt of official dignity, belonged not to the stately Anne Clifford. Had the epistle, mutatis mutandis, been ascribed to Queen Elizabeth, it would have had much greater dramatic propriety. But there is another difficulty. The letter is addressed to Sir Joseph Williamson, Principal Secretary of State. Now Sir Joseph Williamson was not Secretary of State till the 11th of September, 1674, when Lord Arlington was advanced to be Chamber- lain of tlie King's household. Lady Anne Clifford died 22d March, 1675. Now those who wish to legitimate or bastardize the letter, may possibly take the troul)le to ascertain whether there was a vacancy in the representation of Appleby within that period. There certainly was no "eneral election. If the Countess did write tliis famous composition, it must have been nearly the last act of her life, which woidd accoimt for no mention of it occurring in her memoirs. But we have little doubt that it is spurious, were it only on one ground. The Lady Anne never forgot, however she might forgive. King James's award, and the detention of her estates. Had she had a mind to enumerate her grievances, she would not have begun with the usxu-pation. Though in her childhood and youth she suffered much sickness, and * Lodge. ANNK CLIFFORD. 201 soon uftor tlie doatJi of lior first liushaiid was in groat daiifjcr from llic sinall-{)ox, yet slie attaiiu'd the unusual age of eiglity-six with few infirmities. And as lier hitter life was peaceful and active, so was her hist end peace. She died at Brougham Castle, INIarch 22d, 1675, and was buried the 14th of April following, in the sepulclin- which she had herself erected at Appleby; choosing rather to lie beside her belnxcd mother, than with her martial ancestors at Skipton. Her funeral sermon was preached l)y l?aiid)ow, Bishoj) of Carlisle, from Proverbs, xiv. 1 : — " Every wise woman buildeth her house." One sample of this oration nnist siithce, and with that we conclude our sketch of this excellent woman. " She had," says he, " a clear soul, shining through a vivid body. Her body was durable and healthful, her soul sprightful ; of great understanding and judgment ; faithful memory, and ready wit. She had early gained a knowledge, as of the best things, so an ability to 7, he was consecrated Bishop of Lincoln. Deprived at the coniincneiineiit of lillizabeth's reign, for refusing the oath of supre- macy, he presumed to pronounce the sentence of excomniuin"cation aj,'aiii>t his sovereign, and passed the remaining years of his life in various prisons. Died 15s 1, in Wisbech castle, Cambridgeshire. A man of much learning, but an ill temper. Robert Ilortie, of a Cumberland Family, was Dean of Durham in 1551, in which capacity hi; seaiulali/ed the Catholics and aiitiipuirits by removing the image of St. Cuthbert from its place in the cathedral; deprived by Uuein Mary, 15.J3, took refuge at Strasburg, along with Jewel and other Protestants, rctiu-ned in LWS, was made Rishop of Winchester in 1560. He is characterised by the apostolic vicar, Milner,as " a dilajiidator of the property of his Rishojjric, and a destroyer of the antiquities of his cathedral." He died 1579. Day was a Bisliop of Chichester, deprived in the reign of Edward VI., restored by Queen Alary. James Pilkington, Batchelor of Divinity, born of a knightly family at Rivingtou,in the parish of Bolton, in Lancashire. Was a voliintaiy exile for the Protestant cause in the reign of Queen Maiy, and succeeded Tonstal in the see of Durham in 1561: founded a free school at his native place of Rivington, siih nomine et auxpiriis E/i- zdhitha ll'ijina: wrote comments on Nehemiah, Ilaggai, and Obadiah, and died at Bishop's Aukland in 1575. Buried in the cathedral of Durham. On his tomb were sculptured a monody by Dr. Laurence Humphrey, and an epicedium by Fox the mar- tyrologist, both long since obliterated. Walter Haddon was a doctor of civil law, who, though a Cantab, was made by a royal mandate President of Magdalen College, Oxford, contrary to statute. But he wius a zealous promoter of the Reformation. Pity that Reformers should ever take illegal advantage of the royal prerogative, but so it was. He was obliged to withdraw at the accession of Mary, and concealed himself in privacy, but re-appeared at the rising of Elizabeth, and was made one of her Masters of Requests, and employed in several embassies. He wrote books both in prose and verse, which few persons now living ever heard of; among the rest, an oration on the death of Master Bucer. Anthony Wood ascribes to him an Epistle "de vita et obitu fratrum Suffolciensium Henriei et Carol! 15randon." The " Fratres Suflblcienses " were doubtless the two sons of Charles Brandon, Duke of SulVolk, by his last wife, Catherine, daughter of Lord Willoughby of Eresby, who died both on the same day, of the sweating sickness, at the Bishop of Lincoln's palace at Bugden, A.D. 1551. So remarkable a catastrophe in a family connected with royalty was sure to set all the muses a weeping. Walter Haddon died 1.j71. John Seton, Prebendary of Winchester, was one of the disputants against Cranmer and Latimer, in 155-1, and was famous for the brief and methodical Book of Logic which he composed for the use of junior scholars. 2 V 298 ROGER ASCHAM. At tlie liffe of eialiteon, Avlien tlie vonth of otir ejoiieration are just coinjMisiiio; their Valfs at Eton or Harrow, Asdiam nmnneiicol B,A., 28th of Foltniary, In.'^iJ-J), and, on tlic 23r(l of jMarch folloMiiig, lie was elected Fellow, chiefly, as himself has gratefully and modestly recorded, by the interest of Di-. Nicholas Medcalf, then Master of the college. His account of this ti-ansjiction, and his grateful tribute to his departed Thoma;*, better known as Sir Thomas Smith, was eminent in his day both as a philologcr and a statesman; born at Saffron Waldou, in Essex; sent into Italy to finish his education at the King's charge; made on his return public crater of Cam- bridi?e, Regins Profi^ssor of Greek, and Professor of Civil Law, Under Edward VI., or rather under the Protector Somerset, he was one of the principal secretaries of state, Sir William Cecil, afterwards Lord Burleigh, being the other. At this time also he was knighted, endowed with the spoils of the Deanery of Carlisle, and, though a layman, appointed Provost of Eaton. Though Queen Mary deprived him of these preferments, he suffered no other molestation during her reign, but enjoyed a pension of £100, saddled with the condition that he should not quit the kingdom. In the beginning of Queen Elizabeth he was called again to the service of the com monwealth, was restored to his Deanery, was present with the divines at the framing of the liturgy, and employed in several embassies. He was also restored to the Secretary's office, made Chancellor of the order of the Garter, and frequently sent in the House of Commons, where he became " very useful to the commonwealth of learning," by certain regulations he was the means of bringing aboiit in regard to the corn-rents of college property. He died in the climacterical year of his age, in the month of July, 1577, and was buried in the church of Heydon Moimt, in Essex. All his Greek and Latin books he bequeathed to Queen's College, Cambridge, as well as a large globe of his own construction, and founded two exhibitions for natives of Saffron Waldou. He is the author of several historical and political works, which must be highly curious and instructive, particularly, " The Communwpullh of E mil and, and the manner and (jovernmcnl thereof, in three hooks.'" Black letter, 1583, several times reprinted, and twice translated into Latin. " The authority, form, and manner, of holding Parliaments," not printed till 1685, and by some doubted to be Sir Thomas Smith's. " De re nnmmaria," probably an essay on the coinage. But he is best remembered (in Cambridge at least) for the part he took in the controversy respecting the true pronunciation of Greek, and for his endeavours to rectify and fix the ortho- graphy of the English Language. This never- yet-achieved adventure has excited the ambition of many philologers, as may be seen in the preface to Todd's Johnson's Dictionary. Among those who have essayed to reconcile spelling to pronunciation, may be reckoned Alexander Gill, Master of St. Paul's School, (who, with yet greater audacity, wrote a satire on Ben Jonson,) Mitford, and Landor. A similar experiment was tried, yet more hopelessly, upon the French, by Jean Antoine de Baif, a poet of the sixteenth century, so voluminous, that no man was ever known to have read his works through. Of Pember and Christopherson no more need be said at present, than that they were correspondents of Roger Ascham. Sir John Cheek, tutor to King Edward VI., and one of the great restorers of Greek literature in England, is so well known, that it were superfluous to give so short a notice of him as our limits would allow in this place. Of his contest with Bisho]) Gardiner, mention will be made in tlie text. His sister was the first wife of Cecil. ROGER ASCHAM. JiJiJ su|K.'ri<)iv, niii^L be ^ivcn in liis own words. " Dr. .Moficall," lie says, " was a man rnoanly learned Iiiniself, l»ut not meanly aHectioned to set forth learning? in others. He was partial to none, but indifferent to all ; a Master of the whole, a father to every one in that college. There was none so poor, if he haencouragement, for maintenance of studies, for exhort- ati(»n, even for salutary correction, nm fli.uiks arc generally ready, and 30() ROGER ASCHAM. often sincere; but wlio is willing to own, even to himself, how much of Ins knowledge, how nnich of his mental power, has been communicated bv a teacher ? How many of his thouijhls arc mere recollections ? liiowe\ er much we maj- profit by the wisdom of others, it is as much as most of us can do to forgive them for being wiser, or earlier wise, than ourselves. The utterance of grateful sentiments is wonderfully facili- tated wlien it can be accompanied with certain (pialifying clauses and admissions. Thus Ascham evidently dwells with the more satisfiiction on his obligations to IMedcalf, because the latter was a man meanly learned, and a Papist. Ascham, liowever, liad rightly a very moderate estimation of that sort of learning which am be taught by voice or book, and passively received into the memory. With as little of pugnacity or indocility as ever belonged to a lively and enipiiriiig mind, he held fast the truth, that it is only by its own free agency that the intellect can either Ije enriched or invigorated; — that true knowledge is an act, a contiiuious immanent act, and at the same time an operation of the reflective faculty on its own objects. How he applied this idea to the purposes of education, his " Schoolmaster," written in the maturity of his powers, and out of the fulness of his experience, sufficiently shows. But tlic idea, though undeveloped, wrought in liim from his earliest youth : liis favourite maxim was Docendo (Usees. The affectionate wish and strenuous effort to impart knowledge is the best possible condition for receiving it. The necessity of being intelligible to others brings with it an obligation to understand ourselves ; to find words a})t to our ideas, and ideas commensurate to our words ; to seek out just anah)gies and hapi)y illustrations. But, above all, by teaching, or more projjcrly by reciprocal intercommunication of instruction, we gain a practical ac(iuaintance with the universal laws of thought, and with the process of perception, abstracted from the accidents of the individual constitu- tion : for it is only by a sympathetic intercourse with other minds that we gain any true knowledge of our own. Of course we speak of free and friendly (cachiny, not of despotic diclalion, than which there is no hal)it more likely to perpetiiate presumptuous ignorance. The study of the Greek language was at that time new in western Europe, and in England a mere novelty. To Ascham it was as " the trouble of a new delight:" every lesscm which he gained he was eager to impart : he taught Greek, he \\rote Greek, he talked Greek, no wonder if he dreamed in Greek. There might be a little vanity in this : but whatever vanity he possessed (and he n^rtainly loved t<» talk of liimseM) was so tempered by mode:sty, and blcndcil with such can- dour, such glad acknowledgment of others' merits, that the sterucbt ROGKU ASCHAM. 3(H jiidi^nnoiits ((niM hardly call it a foililc. By this industrious cnmiiiniii- fatioii and daily practice he aciiuircd, at a very early l)eri()d, t^ueh a coniniaiid of the Greek vocaliidary, and so vernacular a turn of phrase, that his Senior, Rohert Pend>er, to whom he liad addressed an epistle ill that ton<^ue, assures liim that his letter might have liecn written at Athens. IJut the critical nicety of modern scholarship was then unknown, and it is very unlikely that Pcniher himself felt or un(lerst<»(»d that perfect alliciam upon whi<'h he compliments liis young friend. Pendier's epistle of course is in Latin, inter.sjiersed with Greek, and curious enough to be worthy of translation. It is to this effect : — " Dearly l>eloved Roger, — I render thee thanks for thy Greek epistle, which might seem to have been indited at ancient Athens, so exactly hast tliou attained the propriety of Greek pln-asc : of cxtpiisite penmanship it is, as arc all thine. Use dUiijencc, that thou vun/'st be parficf, not accordimj to the stoical, but to lyrical perfection, that thou, mni/'st touch the harp ariijht. Continue to read Greek \\ith the hoys, for thou wilt profit more by one little fable of j^sop, read and explained by thyself, than if thou shouldst hear the whole Iliad exjmunded in Latin by the learnedest man now living. Peruse Pliny, in whicli author is the greatest knowledge of things, along with the most florid opulence of Latin speech."^' In this letter wc may notice, first, the testimonial to the lieauty of Ascham's penmanship, which proved a principal mean of his advancc- ♦I wish young scholars paid attention to this recommendation. Pliny is never read at school, and very seldom at college ; yet I have the high authority of Southey for saying, tluit he is the most instructive of all the Roman autlmrs. The extent of his knowledge is almost marvellous; his voracity, where he speaks from personal observation, is daily approved by modern experiment and discovery ; and even his credulity adds to. his value, by disclosing more fully the actual state of physical science in his age and country. It is surely quite as interesting to know what pro perties the passions or the imaginations of men have ascribed to a plant or animal, as to count its stamina and petals, or ascertain the number of its vertebra*. Both are very useful. But the highest recoinnu'iulation of Pliny is his moral wisdom, his almost christian piety, his iiitilligeut humanity. Of all the Romans he was the least of a Roman, and approximated nearest to the pure idea of man. Many of the most useful of the Greek and Roman authors are wholly excluded from the common coui-sc of education, under the absurd notion that they are not cla-ssical. One might imagine that the purity of Latin speech were as seriously sacred iis a virgin's chastity. Cardinal Bembo declined reading the scriptures (in the Vulgate translation) for fear of corrupting his I.atiiiity; and I have heard with my own ears a young student of divinity give a similar rciison for not reading St. Augustine. The feeling is at bottom an aristocratical one. From causes not neces- sary to be discussed in this place, ehu-^sical erudition is not only esteemed the befit- ting ornament of a boru gentleman, but lias the power to "gentle the condition" of puddle bluud, du efficacy never ascribed to any other kind of knowledge. 302 ROGER ASCHAM. incut: secondly, :i proof that he was actually engaged in the tuition of bo!/s : thirdiv, that in his plans, both for his own improvement, find for that of his pupils, he diverged from the common routine of lectures: fourthly, that his friend, well discerning the bent and purpose of his genius, urged him to proceed with those humane and elegant studies, on Mhich some austerer judgments looked with an evil eye. From one passage of this epistle, certain dull, literal brains have told us, that " ]Mr. Rol)ert Pcnd>er advised him to learn instrumental nuisic, Avhich Mould prove a very agreeable entertainment to him after his severer studies, and was easy to be attained by him, as he Mas already a great master of vocal music." It is certainly very possible, that Pember may liave given him such advice, but it is nevertheless certain, that he does not give it in the letter in question. There is no allusion to recreation at all. The mIioIc drift of the writer is an exhortation to perseverance in a course of study already commenced ; and surely IMr. Pember, how- ever he might approve of music as a relaxation, (which, by the May, Roger Ascham did not,) had more sense than to advise a young man, intended for the church, dare operant, to devote all the energies of his soul, to make a perfect fiddler of himself. But it is not for every one to interpret parables.* So far was Ascham from devoting himself to nuisic M'ith that intensity M hich Pcm))er has been suppf)sed to recommend, that he appears to have had no manner of taste, but rather a platonic antipathy for it, even as an amusement. Nor M'ould he be well pleased with the present course of education in his University, if we judge by the sentiments M"hich he expresses in his School mastei*, and Toxophilus. " Some M'its, moderate enough by nature, be many times marred by over much study y the aid of the in)aginatiou. ROGKR ASrHAM. 303 :it lari^c, twenty ycrirs ago, in my Itook (if shooting." Tlie passage of tlic Toxopliilus referred to, is as follows. " Whatsoever ye judge, this I am sure, tliat lutes, harps, barhitons, samhukes, and oilier instru- ments, every one which standeth by quick and Hue lingering, be con- demned (tf Aristotle, as not to be brought in and used among them, which study for learning and virtue. IVluch music inarreth men's man- ners, saith Galen. Although some men «ill say that it dotli n(»t so, but rather recreateth and maketh quick a man's mind^ yet methinks, by reason it doth, as honey doth to a man's stomach, which at the first receiveth it well ; but afterward it maketh it luitit t(j abide any strong nourishing meat, or else any w holesome sharp and quick drink ; and, even so in a manner, these insti"uments make a man's wit so soft and smooth, so tender and (piaisy, that they be less able to l)rook strong and rough study. Wits be not sharpened, but rather made blunt, with such soft sweetness, even as goinl edges be blunted, which men whet upon soft chalk-stones." These opiniims require considerable limitation. INFusic is so high a delight to such as are really capable of enjoying it, that there is some danger of its incroaching too much upon the stiulent's time, and it is fre(|uently a passport to very undesirable company; but if these evils be avoided, its effects on the mind are extremely salutary and refreshing. Nothing calms the spirit more sweetly than sad music; nothing quickens cogitation like a lively air. But the truth was, that honest Roger had no ear, and like a true Englishman of an age when Kings were wrestlers, and Queens not only presided at tournaments, but " rained influence" upon bear-baitings, delighted rather in muscular exertion than in fine fingering. That the practice of nuisic no way impairs the faculty of severe thought, is sufficiently evinced by the fact that IMilton was a skilful musician, and that most of the German philo- sophers of the present day, who in mental industry excel the whole M'orld, ])lay on some instrument. INIathematical pursuits are so far from dis(pialifyingmen for business, that of all others they are most necessary to such as are intended for public life. A mere mathematician, is indeed often rude and unlicked enough ; but this may partly be account- ed for from the circumstance, that many more persons of plelK'ian origin attain enu'nence in the mathematics than in the classics, and being, like most mathematicians, very honest men, do not readily actpiire the distinguishing manner of genteel society. For it is a gene- ral observation, that a facility of adopting manners is the talent of a knave. A pick-pocket looks, speaks, and behaves nnich more like a gentleman, than an honest tradesman do<>s. It is 44, Ascham produced his " Toxophilus ; the school or partitions of sliooting, in two books," dedicated to King Henry VIII. then just setting out to invade France, M'here liis predecessors Edward and Henry had conciuered so gloriously with the bow. So well was the monarch j)leased with the dedication, that he settled an aiuiual pension on the author, at the recommendation of Sir William Paget,* • Sir William, afterwards the first Lord Paget, of Beaudeseit, in Staffordshire, the lineal ancestor of the present Marquis of Anglesea, was one of the most eminent diplomatists of his time; a firm but tolerant adherent to the ancient church; and a liberal patron of literature. His descent was humble. His family sprang from Staffordshire, but liis father migrated to London, and obtained the office of Serjeant at Mace to the Corporation. William was born in 1 oOt>, educated at St. Paul's School, under the famed grammarian Lilly, and at Trinity Hall, Cambridge. I lis rise was owing in a great mea-sure to the patronage of Gardiner, who sent him to complete his studies at the University of Paris. In 1530, when no more than twenty-four, he was sent into France to collect the opinions of the most distinguished Jurists of that kingdom upon Henry's proposed divorce. In 1.>J7, he was em- ployed as a secret envoy in Germany; in lJ-12, he was ambassador iu France, knighted in l;>4:J, and made one i>f the two princij)al Secretaries of State. In 1 5 Co, he nesjociuted in concert with theCiiaucellor Wriotluslv, and tlu' Duke of Suffolk, the 2 .2 306 ROGER ASCHAM. which was discontinued after Henry's death, but renewed during plea- sure by Edward ^'^I. The Toxophilus did not wliolly escape censure from certain morose critics. Mho thought the subject inconsistent M'ith the gravity of a scholar ; but against these cavils he effectually vindi- cated himself in the first book, wherein lie shews the usefulness of bodily exercise both to body and mind. The peculiar beauty of Ascham's hand-writing first introduced him to the court, M'here he had the honour of teaching Prince Edward, tlie Princess Elizabeth, and the two sons of Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, the use of the pen. He was also the University amanuensis, and wrote all the letters which Cambridge addressed to the Kings and other people of Quality ; in which sort of correspondence, perspicuity and beauty of penmanship are of great efficacy, and may chance to procure for a petition an early reading. All formal and official letters (at least where the Church or the Universities were concerned) were then written in Latin, and Ascham's Latin style was well fitted for actual business. Avoiding the barbarisms and solecisms of the Manks, and couform- terms of the maniage between Margaret, niece to King Henry VIII. and the Earl of Lennox, (from which union the Lady Arabella Stuart derived her descent, and that unhappy proximitj' to the Crown which consigned her to life-long captivity.) Soon after, he was engaged in negociations with France, which, though attended with difti- cultj', were brought to a successful issue a few months before Henrj^'s decease. Sir William Paget was an executor of the King's will, and one of the council to his minor successor. Though opposed to the ecclesiastical revolution, he was politically attached to the Protector Somerset, by whom he was invested with the Gaiter, sent ambassador to the Emperor, and advanced to the Peerage. Of course he did not wholly escape the suspicions and indignities which fell on the whole Somerset party. In particular the Dudley faction, with exceeding great littleness, divested him of his order, on the ground of insufficiency of blood. But all his misfortunes passed away at the accession of Mary, whose title he was among the first to assert He was honourably re-elected to the (iarter, and employed in several negociations of great moment. It is not improbable that to his influence with Gardiner, Ascham owed his security in the days of persecution. Lord Paget retired from public life at the demise of Mary, and died in 1.563. As a curious specimen of the stj'le of an author with whom all our readers may not be familiar, we shall present them with Lloyd's character of this eminent statesman, the fomider of a distinguished House : — " His education was better than his birth, his knowledge higher than his education, his parts above his knowledge, and his experience beyond his parts. A general learn- ing furnished him for travel, and travel sea-soned him for employment. His master- piece was an inward observation of other men, and an exact knowledge of himself. His address was with state, yet insinuating; his discourse free, but weighed; his apprehen- sion quick, but stayed ; his ready and present mind keeping its pauses of thoughts and expressions even with the occasion and the emergency ; neither was his carriage more stiff and uncompliant than his soul." ROGER ASCHAM. 3O7 ing liis sentences lo the unalogies oi Ronuiii authors, lie neverthe- less writes rather as a man wlio M'as accustomed to speak and think in Latin, whose words were tlie natural liody and sutrgestion of his thoughts, tlian as one that having stocked liis memory « ith the phrase- ology of some particular writers, constrained his tlioughts to tit prc- existent frames of diction. On the resignation of Sir John Cheek he was made pul)lic orator. Thus dividing his time between London and Cand)ridge, and his studies between liis books and the world, he passed the four years from 1544 to LVJB, at which latter period William Grindall died ; and Ascliam was summoned to attend on England's future Queen, to complete that structure of learning which his pupil had Itegun. It nuist be an affair of delicate management to teach (Jreek to a Princess; but Ascliam had a love and a genius for teachinsr, and Klizalx'th possessed in an extraordinary degree the facility of her sex in learning languages. She had then little or no expectation of reigning. Her situation was one of peculiar difticulty : she needed a s])irit at once lirn and yielding ; and displayed in earliest youth a circumspection and self-controul in ^vllicll her latter years were deficient. Ascham found her a most agreeable pupil ; and the diligence, docility, modest allection, and self-respective deference of the royal maiden endeared an office which the shy scholar had not vuidertaken without fears and misgivings. His epistles to his friends are full of the Princess' com- mendations and his own satisfaction ; and in his later works he refers to this part of his life with honest pride. In this happy strain he writes to John Stiu-mius, of Strasbiu-g : — " If you wish tf» know how I am thriving at Court, you may assure yourself that I had ucxor more blessed leisure in my college than now in the palace. The Lady Eliza- beth and I are studying together, in the original Greek, the crown orations of Demosthenes and ^Eschines. She reads her lessons to me, and at (me glance so completely comprehends, not only the idiom of the language and the sense of the orator, but the exact l)earings of the cause, and the public acts, manners, and usages of the Athenian people, that you would marvel to behold her." In like temper he told Aylnier, afterwards Bishop of London, that he learned more of the Lady Eliza- beth than she did of him, "I teach her words," said he, "and she teaches me things. I teach her the tongues to speak, and her mcKlest and maidenly looks teach me works to do; for I think she is the l)est disjiosed of any in Eiu-ope." In several of his Latin ejiistles, and also in his " Schoolmaster," he explains and recommends his mode of in- structing the Princess with evident exultation at his success. It was the same method of double translation pursued with such distinguished results in the tuition of the young sovereign^ by Sir John Check', from 30R ROGER ASCHAM. Avhoiii iVsciiam adopted it; and indeed, like many "I the best dis- coveries, it seems so simple that we wonder how it ever could be missed, and so excellent, that we know not why it is so little practised. It had, indeed, been suirgested by the younger Pliny, in an epistle to Fiiscus, and by Cicero, in his Dialogue dc Oratore. " Pliny," saith Roger, " expresses many good ways for order in study, but beginneth with translation, and preferretli it to all tlic rest. But a better and nearer example herein may be our noble Queen Elizabetli, who never yet took Greek nor Latin Grammar in her hand after the first declining of a noun and a verb ; but only by this double translating of Demos- thenes and Isocrates daily witliout missing, every forenoon, and like- v\'ise some part of Tully every afternoon, for the space of a year or two, liath attained to such perfect understanding in both the tongues, and to such a ready utterance in the Latin, and that with such a judgment, as they be few in number in both Universities, or elsewhere in England, that be in botli tongues comparable to her Blajesty." And so in an epistle to Sturmius : — " It is almost incredible to how excellent an understanding both of Greek and Latin I myself conducted our sacred Lady Elizabeth by this same double translation, constantly and in brief time delivered in writing," In the same letter he insists upon the pupil making the translations with his or her own liand, proprio, non alieno stylo, whence it may be concluded, that Elizabeth was her own amanuensis on these occasions. We may well allow a teacher to be a little rapturous about the proficiency of a lady, a Queen, and his own pupil ; but after all due abatements, the testimony remains unshaken both to the talent of the learner, and the efficiency of the system of instruction. For two years the most j)erfect harmony subsisted between Elizabeth and her preceptor. The intervals of study were occasionally relieved with chess, at which Ascham is said to have been an adept. It is to be hi>])ed that he had too much prudence and gallantry to beat the Lady ((ftener than was necessary to convince her that he ahvays played his best. True, the royal virgin was not then Queen, or even presumptive heir ; but no wise man would take the conceit out of a chess-player, that stood within the hundredth degree of relationship to the throne. Elizabeth was not the only distinguished female whose classical studies were assisted by our author ; he taught Latin to Anne, Countess of Pembroke, to whom he addressed two letters in that language still extant. The court of the young Edward was filled with lovers of learning, in whose society and patronage Ascham enjoyed himself fully, as Sir John Check his old friend, Lord Paget, Sir William Cecil, and the Chancel- ROOF-IR ASCHAM .'iOO lor Wiidtlicsly. lie had a sliair in tlic rdiication nl tiif t\v<» lirandoiis, whose prciiKitiire and coiitemporanoous decease lias Iteoii lief(»re alluded to, and he partook the favour of tlic y<»«ithrnl King, who honourinj^' knowledge, and all its professors, must liavc especially esteemed it in the instructor of his Lady Temper, as the amialile boy used to call his favourite sister. It was at this period that he Ixvame ac In. wa.-;, knew ^omcthiof; of womau. A woman's icproach is often the best sign of her favour. f Llo.vd's State Worthies. 310 ROGER ASCHAM. from supphiij on tlio Universities;" but tlie sentence is too witty to be literal]) interj)reted. He was certainly well thought of by Elizabeth, and of her he spoke with enthusiasm to his latest day, not M'ithout a pleasing consciousness of his own services in making her wliat she was. Thus, in the " Schoolmaster," his latest work, he makes her perfections a reproach to all lier male subjects. '' It is yom* shame, (I speak to you all, you young gentlemen of England,) that one maid should go beyond ye all in excellency of learnings aiul knowledge of divers tongues. Point out six of the best given gentlemen of this court, and all they together show not so much good will, bestow not so many hours daily, orderly, and constantly, for the increase of learning and knowledge, as doth the Queen's Blajesty herself. Yea, I believe that besides her perfect readi- ness in Latin, Italian, French, and Spanish, she readeth here now at Windsor more Greek every day, than some prebendary of this chiu-ch doth Latin in a whole week. Amongst all the benetits which God hath blessed me m ithal, next the knowledge of Christ's true religion, I count this the greatest, tliat it pleased God to call me to be one poor minister in setting forM'ard these excellent gifts of learning." In excuse, however, of the " six best given gentlemen," it should be stated, that the learning of languages is emphatically a female talent, bearing a much larger ratio to general ability in woman than in man. Yet who can but admire the indefatigable intellect of our renowned Queen, harassed in youth with peril and persecution, and burdened in early matiu-ity with public cares, wliich could yet attain a proficiency in polite learning, such as few professional scholars have excelled. The bare titles of the works which she translated evince the variety of her philological attainments, and justify the praises of her eulogists.* When no more than eleven years of age she translated out of French verse into English prose, " The mirror, or glass, of tlie sinful soul," dedicated to Queen Catherine Parr, 1544. At twelve, she rendered out * The praises of Elizabeth were not confined to her own subjects. Scaliger declared that she knew more than all the great men of her time. Serrauus honoured her with the dedication of his Plato, in terms flattering enough, but only a learned Queen could be so flattered. Dedicators and panegyrists dabble much in prophecy ; but it is not often that they prophecy truly. Serranus, however, was right for once, when he foretold the future fame of " good Queen Bess," and " Eliza's Golden-days." " Qucmadmodum Salomonis vel Augusti felix imperium, notabile fuit ad dcsignan- dam civilem felicitatem : ita et tuum, rogiua, ilhtstre sit futuruni, tuaque insula non amphus Albion sed Olbia et vere fortunata sit porro nuucupanda. (iuidenim ? In regno tuo vera ilia regnat philosophia cujus vix ac ne vix quidem umbram vidit Plato." The large paper copy of Scrranus's Plato, holds up its head magnificently at thirty guineas! ! ! Is there a man or a woman living that cau read and understand Plato, and has thirty guineas to spare? ROHF.R ASCHAM. '.U 1 of Eni^'lish into Latin, Frcndi, ami Italian, " Prayers or ]\Io(litati and Edward, it may be observed that both were children of di\ orced fathers. RO(;En \sf HAM. 3lo sTie (lied, wliat had lu'cii the life in ilealli nf an iiiquisitorial dmi-rcnn, to wliat slie nnist have uiideriroiie, if the wicked Diidlevs had delloured lier conscience? forcing lier to thin<^s which, in her simplicity, she could not distinguish " whether she suffered or she did," hut which would have left her, like Lucretia, impure in her own eyes, though stainless l)efore the universal reason ? After that memorable leave-t;iking, mIucIi had l)een sorrowful indeed, could he have " looked into the seeds of time," Aschani proceeded to London, and in September set sail M'ith the ambiissador for Germany, where he continued three years, the busiest of his life ; for l>esides his regular occupation as Secretary, his correspondence and intercourse with the most distingtiished scholars, his active observations on the men whom he saw and the countries through which he passed, and the unav(»idable expense (»f time in form and ceremony, he officiated as Greek tutor to the ambassador, to whom he read and expounded twice a day four days out of the week. In the morning he read and explained three or four (folio) pages of Herodotus, and in the afternoon, two-hundred and twelve or thirteen lines of Sophocles or Euripides. Thus, according to his oratorical biographer Grant, he got through, between the 12th of October, 1550, and the 12th August, 1551, all Herodotus, five plays of Sophocles, most of Euripides, and twenty-one orations of Demosthenes : a irreat deal for an ambassador to listen to. On the other two days he copied the letters of state sent to England, and at leisure moments en- tered his observations in his diary, and collected, if not arranged, the materials for his treatise called " A report and discourse of the affiiirs and state of Germany, and the Emperor Charles his court." "■■' His urba- nity, readiness, and general information, recommended him not less to Princes and INIinistcrs, than his Greek, Latin, logic, and divinity, to John Sturmius and Jerome Wolfius. The courtiers thought it a j)ity he was not always attached to an embassy, and the learned regretted that he shoidd ever leave the schools. Whatever he was doing seemed hh forte, and so rife were his praises in every mouth, that he was in peril of the Moe denounced against those whom " all men speak well off." A few miscellaneous extracts from his English correspimdencc at this period, will not be an unpleasant relief to our narrative. These notices, * The full title of this treatise is, " A report of discourse, written by Roger Ascham, of the afi'airs aud state of fJentiany, of the f.mperor Charles V. his court during cer- tain years, while the said Roger was there, print) d by John Day, Aldcrsgate-street." It is said to contain a char indication of the causes that induced Chiules V. to resign. Its form is that of a reply to a letter: written almut 1.552, but not published till 1.57(1. V\'e have read no part ol it, but it i< highh spoken of. 310 ROGER ASCHAM. iunoiiii niaiiy others, were addressed to Mr. John Raven, a Fellow of John's college. They confirm what we have said of Sir R. IMorisync's Greek studies. " As I wrote in my last letter, 3rd Oct., we came to Mechlin ; I told you at large both of the Abbey, with 1600 nuns, and also the Landgrave (of Hesse,) whom we saw prisoner. He is lusty, well favoured, some- thing like Mr. Heljilthrout in the face ; hasty, inconstant, and to get himself out of prison, would fight, if the Em])eror would l)i(l lum, with Turk, French, England, God, and the Devil. The Emperor perceiving his busy head M'ithout constancy, handles him thereafter : his own Ger- mano, as it is said, being well content that he is forthcoming. "John Frederick is clear contrary; noble, courageous, constant, one in all fortunes desired of his friends, reverenced of his foes, favoured of his Emperor, loved of all. He hath been proffered of late, it is said, by the Emj)eror, that if he will subscribe to his proceedings, to go at large, to have all his dignities and honours again, and more too. His answer was from the first one, and is still that he will take the Emperor for his gra- cious sovereign lord ; but to forsake God and his doctrine, he will never do, let the Emperor do with his body what he will." "At jMeclilin we saw a strange bird. The Emperor doth allow it 8d. a day. It is milk-white, greater than a swan, M'ith a bill somewhat like a shovel, and having a. throat well able to swallow, without grief or touch of crest, a white penny loaf of England, except your bread be big- ger than your bread-master of St. John's is wont willingly to make it. The eyes are as red as fire, and, as they say, an hundred years old. It was wont, in Maximilian's days, to fiy with him whithersoever he went." " 4th Octob. we went to Brussels, twelve miles. In the mid-way is a town called Vilfort, with as notable strong hold of the Emperor's in it. Traitors and condemned persons lie there. At the town's end is a notable strong place of execution, where worthy Will Tyndall was un- Avf>rthily put to death. Ye cannot match Brussels in England, but with London. " At afternoon, I went about tlie town. I came to the Friar Carme- lites house, where Edward Billick was warden ; n(jt present there, but being then at Colen, in another house of his, I heard their even-song : after I desired to see the library. A friar was sent to me, and led me into it. There was not one good Ijook but Lyra. The friar was learned, spoke Latin readily, entered into Greek, having a very good wit, and a gi'eater desire to learning. He was gentle and honest ; and Ijeing a Papist, and knowing me to be a Protestant, yet shewed nn* all gentle- ness, and wovdd needs give me a new book in verse, titled De Rustici- tate Morum." ROOKR ASCHAM. 317 " I h;ive scon the Kiiiju'idi tu ice, liist sick in liis |n-i\y-(liiiiiilMr, at our first coniiii'^. lie lindved sdinewhat like tlie parson of Epurstonc. He had a gown on of black taffety, and a furred ni^dit-cap on his head, Dutch like, having a seam over the croun. I saw him also on St. Andrew's day, sitting at dinner at the feast of Golden Fleece; he and Ferdinando both under one cloth of estiite ; then the Prince of Spain ; all of one side, as Knights of the Garter do in England ; after orderly, iVIr. Bussie, master of the liorse, Duke d'Alva, a Spaniard, Dux Bavaria;, the Prince of Piedmont, the Count of Hardenlturgh. " I stood hard l)y the Emperor's table. He had four courses : he had sod beef very good, roast mutton, baked hare ; these of no service in England ; fed well of a caj)on. I have had a better from mine hostess Barnes many times in my chamber. He and Ferdinando eat together very handsomely, carving themselves where they list, without any curi(jsity." "The Emperor drank the best that ever I saw; he liad liishcad in the glass five times as long as any of us, and never drank less than a good (piart at once of Rhenish wine. His chapel sung wonderful cunningly all the diimer-while." " England need fear no outward enemies. The lusty lads verily be in England. I have seen on a Sunday more likely men walking in St. Paul's church than I ever yet saw in Augusta, where lieth an Emperor with a garrison, three kings, a queen, three Princes, a numl)er of Dukes, Sec. I study Greek apace, but no other tongue ; for I cannot. I trust to see England shortly, God Milling. I am sorry that I hear no word from Ireland. Connnendations to you all, because I woidd leave out none ; to Dr. Iladdon, father Bucer, John Scarlett, mine hostess Barnes." " If ye will know how I do, I think I shall f(»rget all tongues but the Greek afore I come home. I have read to my Lord since I came to Augusta, whole Herodotus, five tragedies, three oratii»ns of Iso- crates, seventeen orations of Demosthenes. For understandinir of the Italian, I am meet Mell ; l»ut surely I drink Dutch better than I speak Dutch. Tell iMr. D. Maden, I will drink with him now a carouse of wine; and would to God he had a vessel of Khenish wine, on condition that I paid 40s. for it; and perchance when I come to Candjridge, I will so provide here, that every year I will have a little piece of Bhenish wine." (24.) The Ilockheim and Joannisbcrg, or Mhatover else was the prime vin- tage, when Rhine ilowed fntni its fountain to the sea through the domains of the Emperor Charles, was peculiarly congenial to Roger's palate aud soul, for in his next letter to Ra\en, written evidently with 318 ROGER ASCHAM. tlie smack on his lips, commences, " This Rhenisli wine is so gentle a drink, that I cannot tell liow to do Mhen I come home." An orderly attachment to the blood of the grape is not unusual among great lin- guists. We have already mentioned Bentley's constancy to port. Adelung used to CJill his cellar his Bibliotheca selectissima. But the studies, the diplomacy, and the conviviality of Ascham, were sorrowfidly interrupted by the death of the young King, who had not only continued his pension, but appointed him his own Latin Secretary in his absence. Edward VI. died July (), 1553, having just lived long enough to sign the will, which proved the death-warrant of Jane Grey. Ascham did not return till the few unhappy days of that Lady's nomi- nal reign were passed, and she was a prisoner in the Tower at his arrival in September, from whence she would probably in time have been liberated with a free ])ardon, had it not been for the madness of her father, who, by joining in Wyat's insurrection when the wax on his par- don was hardly dry, may be justly called an accessory to his child's murder. When Ascham, after three years absence, again set foot on the English shore, he found England a sadly changed country : one royal patron dead, with dark suspicions hovering over his grave, for it was whispered that Edward's health declined from the hour that the Dudleys came about him : the friendship of Elizabeth not only unavailing, but dangerous: his college friends and fellow students either dead, or flying, or imprisoned, or holding their preferments and their very lives, by a most insecure tenure. Cheek, who had joined himself to the supporters of Lady Jane's title, was in prison. Bucer, who had come to England only to lay his bones, where they were not permitted to rest, was no more. The persecution, which was accelerated ])y Wyat's unsuccessful rising, was not yet begun, but was already lower- ing in the distance, and, as it peculiarly threatened the Universities, Rijger was not only likely to be deprived of his Fellowship and support, but to undergo examinations and tests, which would have compelled him to put his conscience in the opposite scale to his interest and safety. He retired, however, to Cambridge, to wait the event, not expecting nor soliciting anything from the new court, and esteeming himself happy if he was overlooked. But he had friends whom lie knew not of, and one, that considering his acquiescence in the Reformation, could scarcely be looked for. This was Stephen Gardiner, who, at the accession of INIary, had been delivered out of custody, restored to his see of Winchester, and made Chancellor. But his great suppfjrter was Lord Paget, by whose influence with Gardiner, he Mas called to court, and appointed to the oflicc of Latin .Secretary, which he formerly held by the interest of Cecil, and which he declared that he would not RonF.R A?^f;n.\\T. 319 excliange tor any otlic r in the Queen's, jjif't. Of tliis apjjointnient lie {^ivos a lively account to Ills constant correspondent Hturniius, particu- larly (l\vellinur autliov witli ull tlie warmth and frequency of scliool friendsJiip, dated tlie 24th of the same month, jocosely rej)roaclies him witli omitting to communicate sucli an important piece of business. " But what is it I hear ? Would you keep your engagement close, for fear I should send you a High-Dutch epithalamiuin? I am informed that your intended is neice to the wife of Mv. Walop, that was governor of Guisnes Mhen I was at Calais. Ah ! but slie was an honest madam, a fair and comely dame ! If it be so, tliat you are going to make her your spouse, or if you have any other in your eye, do let me kn(»w, and tell me Mhen the day is to be, that if I cannot myself be present at the espousals, I may send Thalassius """ to make my compliments to your love in my stead." Ascham replied, — " As for my wife, she is the picture of her aunt Walop, and all that John Sturmius could wish the wife of Roger Ascham to be." In the enjoyment of honourable competence, congenial occupation, and domestic affection, M'e can hardly suppose that Ascham Mas quite at ease under the patronage of Queen Mary and Bishop Gardiner ; for, however free from ])ers()nal apprehension, he could not coldly contem- plate the perils, torments, and executions of multitudes, among whom were some whom he loved, and doubtless many whom he had known. Tlie jrentle creature whose praises he had so industriously divulged over Germany had fallen beneath the axe, testifying, by her latest acts, her attachment to the studies of her happy years.t Elizabeth, to whom he appears to have been really and warmly attached, continually assailed with plots and suspicions, was shifted about from one custody ♦Thalassius was the Roman nuptial god, as Hymen was the Greek. A song was sun"- at weddings, in which " lo Thalasse" was perpetually repeated like a hurden. Plutarch who was very indifferently acquainted with Roman antiquities, and quite io-norant of the Oscan and Etrascan languages, which were to the Latin what the Au"-lo-Saxon is to the English, is sadly puzzled to explain this word: — no wonder, as he souo-ht its derivation in Greek. If he must give it an Hellenic origin, would not Thalassa the sea, whence Venus arose, and to which Homer gives the epithet of "many-sounding," which is, moreover, the cabalistic type of change, fickleness, and agitation, have furnished a ready etymon ? + Lady Jane Grey, or to speak more correctly, Lady Guildford Dudley (for she perished in her honey moon), wrote her last letter to her sister Catherine in the blank pages of her Greek Testament; and when she saw her bridegroom led to execution under her prison window, she wrote three several sentences in her tablets in as many languages. The first in Greek, to this effect:— If his slain body shall "ive testimony against me before men, his blessed soul shall render an eternal proof of my innocence before God. The second Latin :— The jiistia; of men took away his body, but the divine mercy has preserved his spirit, 'i'he third English:— If my fault deserv ed punishment, my youth and my imprudence were worthy of excuse : God and po.steritj' will shew me favour. ROOEK AS( HAM. ;}21 to another, oMij^ed to veil her faith in ('(juivocatioiis and external coni- pliances, which, if she had a christian heart, must have l)ceu exceed- in<^ly grievous to lier conscience, and were, at all events, cruelly mortifying to her ])ride : for, to say no worse of it, any the least inter- ference with the belief and worship of any human being, is the greatest possible insult to human nature. Ridley, an old college accpiaintance, was conunitted to the flames, and most of his earlier connections in vohuitary exile. Some have wondered how he escaped question himself, as liis intimac)' with many of the chief Reformers, and his profession of the reformed d<»c- trines, were well known. But a greater marvel has been made of this than the case warrants. He had never been a very active promoter of the Reformation ; he had no share in the spoils of the church. No Catholic could charge him with the severities of former reigns; nor could Mary alledge that he attempted or even approved her exclusion from the throne, (there it is possible he was lucky in being abroad), nor had he, like Ridley, attempted to convert her. He had nothing which it was worth while to take from him : his virtues Mere such as Mould have made his persecution very odious, and yet not such as to be any- wise formidable ; for he assumed no extraordinary sanctity or rigour. His talents were serviceable to his employers, and dangerous to nobody. If he did not enter zealously into the re-establishment of the ancient church, it does not appear that he opposed it by book or discourse; nor did he refuse, in the discharge of his office, to do ^vhat a zealous Protestant woidd not have done. Thus he translated into Latin the speech delivered by Cardinal Pole, on his first appearance in Parliament in the quality of Legate, which necessarily contained an assertion of the papal supremacy, and an imputation of heresy to the reformers. Ascham's translation was made by the Cardinal's express desire, to be sent to the Pope, and gained for the translator a degree of fa\ our ^^ ith that high-born ecclesiastic of which he was a little proud. We are far from accusing Roger of apostacy, or mean disguise : we only say, that there Mas no such stubbornness in his religion as Milfully to provoke martyrdom. With such patrons as Paget and Pole, he might easily l)e excused giving an o])inion on the disputed j)oints : his absence from mass might not be noticed ; and as long as his om n devotions were free, he was not the man to censure the practice, or contradict the opinions, of his sui)eriors. It is true, that Sir John Cheek Mas not so favourablv treated: to him Mas offered the alternative of recantation or the stake. Let those mIio despise him for accepting the former, renuMnber m hat old Fuller saith : — "The Hames of Sniithtield were hotter than the 2s 322 ROGKR ASCHAM. pictures in tlic Book of IMartyrs." * Nor is every man favoured with tliat perfect assurance of his own belief, as to feel justified in sacrificing tlie life wliicli lie is sure God gave him, for oj)inions which he only believes to he of God. Yet perhaps Clieek suffered more from his own conscience, than the burners could have made him endure. lie pined, and pined, and never held up his head, or took any delight in his old studies, but found that life itself may be bought too dear, and only evaded the martyrdom of fire, to suffer the lingering martyrdom of a broken heart. But then, he had upheld the title of Jane Grey : he had, as far as his poMcr extended, disinherited and bastardized JVIary, \thich Ascham had not done. There Mas the mighty difference. The real groiuids of the ]\lariau persecution were political, not religious. Religion was only called in to smother the consciences of the persecu- tors, some of whom would have shriudv from the deadly acts of ven- geance which they perpetrated, if they could not have contrived to believe that they were vindicating the true church against soul-killing heresy. We say advisedly, some ; for the prime movers in all persecu- tions have been men indifferent to all creeds, who have regarded articles of faith as creatures of statutes, ordained to secure the perma- nence of instilntions, and the secia-ity of constituted authorities. Here and there, a Bonner or a Jeffreys appears, in whom the lust of blood is *Such at least is Fuller's meaning and illustration. 1 am afraid I have not quoted his words exactly, for to tell tmth, I know not in which of his works to look for them. I5iit I recollect reading the sentiment in "Lamb's Selections," to which I owe my (irst knowledge and constant love of Fuller, as of many other worthies. V/hy are not more goms from our early prose writers scattered over the conntiy by the period- icals? Selections are so far from preventing the study of the entire authors, that they promote it. Who could read the extracts which Lamb has given from Fuller, without wishing to read more of the old Prebendary ? But great old books of the great old authors are not in every body's reach ; and though it is better to know them thoroughly than to know them only here and there, yet it is a good work to give a little to those who have neither time nor means to get more. Let every book- worm, when, in any fragrant, scarce old tome, he discovers a sentence, a story, an illustration, that does his heart good, hasten to give it the widest circulation that newspapers and magazines, penny and halfpenny, can afford. Remember that The worst avarice is that of sense. Appropos to the pictures in the "Book of Martyrs." In those embellishments of that ghastly work which pourtray the sufferings of the primitive Christians under the Roman Emperors, there is an anachronism which affords a singular display of national antipathy. The Roman tormenters are all in Spanish costume. The [iit|uisition and the Armada had identified the ideas of Spain and persecution. Even in the representation of St. Laurence's martyrdom on the gridiron, which is dated A. D. 2.58, in the reigu of the Emperor Valerian, a Spanish Bishop in his mitre presides. ROOKR ASf'HAM. 323 not :i mere metaphor, but ;i pliysifal appetite ; but tbey are as rare a pheiiomcnoM as t!ie .Siamese twins. But I doubt whether Christianity', however corrupted with error, ever ur<^ed one human being to opj)ress or destroy another. An erring Piety may consent to jwrsecution ; but the promoters of persecution are Revenge, Ambition, Avarice, and the other bastards of the World, which the Church ainion on the subject, would infallibly prefer dying in glorious battle to having their Jiecks ignominiously wrung for the spit, or enduring the miseries of superan- nuation. We do iKtt deny that our author shewed in this 2)articular a strange taste, but it is a taste we have ourselves known to exist in men of the kindest hearts, and most powerful minds. Are not the features of Lord Albemarle Bertie, in Hogarth's print above mentioned, indicative of lienevolent simplicity.'' "' Roger never lived to publish, or probably to compose, his apology for the C(»ck-pit: but we know not Mhether it was in pursuance of his reconunendation that a yearly cock-fight was till lately, a part of the annual routine of the northern free-schools. The master's jjcniuisites are still called cock pennies. We should by no means have wondered, if Ascham had dedicated his " cock-pit" to Queen Elizabeth ; for that learned lady, at her famous visit t(» Kcnilworth, was entertained with bear-baiting, and looked \i ith much complacence on the "bloody cynarctomachy." But in all this, what proof is there that Ascham was a Gamester.^ This seems to be a gratuitous assumption, suggested by the circumstance that he left his family ill provided for. But that is the case with scores of poor clergymen, who never rattled dice-box or j)olislu'd spiu-s. His income was narrow — his wife's large fortune is only attested by ^\'on(l — he was neither importunate to get, nor provident to save — his j)urse and *This nobleman, who is also represented as attending a pucrllistic engagement, in the march to FincliUy, \v;us entirely blind; ;i circumstance which easily explains hi>i partiality to scenes of noisy excitement. 328 ROGER ASCHAM. liouse were alMjiys open to the distressed scholar, and Mhatever was his, was his friends' also. He deliglited much in an epigram of IMartial, Extra fortimam est quicquid donatur amicis Quas solas dederis, semper habebis opes. The friendly boon from fate itself secures, And what you give, shall be for ever yours. This is not the way to grow rich. Roger Ascham was generous, and it may be, imprudent ; but there is no just cause for supposing him \ iciously extravagant. There is little more to relate of the last ten years of his life. Finding his health injured by night studies, he for a time discontinued them, and became an early riser ; but towards the close of 1568 he sat up several nights successively in order to finish a poem addressed to the Queen on the new year. That new year he was never to see. Long subject to fever, and latterly to a lingering hectic, this over-exertion brought on a violent attack which his weakened constitution was unable to \vithstand. Sleep, which he had too long rejected, could not be persuaded to visit him again, though he was rocked in a cradle; all opiates failed, and in less than a week, exhausted nature gave way to the slumber, from which there is no waking on this side of the grave. He took to his bed on the 28th of December, and expired on the 30th of the same month, 1568, aged fifty-three. He was attended to the last by Dr. Alexander Nowel, Dean of St. Paul, who, on the ensuing fourth of January, preached his funeral sermon, in which he declares that he never knew man live more honestly nor die more christianly. As he had many friends, and no enemies, his death was a common sorrow, and Queen Elizabeth is reported to have said, that she had rather have thro\vn ten thousand pounds into the sea, than have lost her Ascham. And well might she say so, for whom had he left behind that loved her so truly, served her so disinterestedly, or bore such fair testimony to her nam* .^ Ascham left three sons, Giles, Dudley, and Sturmius, (the last so named after his Strasburg correspondent,) of whom the eldest could not be more than twelve years of age ; with his last breath he recommended the care of their education to their mother. It was partly with a view to the instruction of his own children, that he commenced the " Schole-master," the work by which he is most and best known, to which he did not live to set the last hand. He comnuinicated the design and inij)ort of the book in a letter to Sturmius, in which he states, that not being able to leave his sons a large fortune, he M'as resolved to provide them with a preceptor, not one to be hired for a great sum of money, but marked out at home with a homely j)eii. In the same letter he gives his reasons for ROGER ASC'HAM. 329 eiDpldyiiif!: tlio Enpilisli l;m<^iiahici<-h'tter : — " The fault is in yjurselves, ye nol)lenicn's children, and therefore ye deserve tlie greater blame, that commonly tlie meaner men's children come to be tlie wisest counsellors and greatest doers in the weighty affairs of tliis realm. And why ? God will liave it so of his providence, because yc will have it no otherwise by your negligence." If negligence of study be meant, the censure is no longer ajijilicable. For the sons of the nobility labour as hard for academical distinctions as the youth to whom learning is to be instead of house and land. All classes, (to whom instruction is attainable at all,) emulate each other in the race of intel- lect, and a book on any subject by a ])easant, or a peer, is no longer so much as a nine-days wonder. But in the application of their attain- ments to the purposes of wftrldly advancement, the plebeian has still the start, possessing also this inestimable advantage, that he can submit to much more, and make liimself much more serviceable, without the loss of personal dignity. Blen, very highly descended, will sometimes do mean actions, but then they lose their self-esteem, and throw themselves away; but let a man once be convinced that nothing useful (to himself or others) can be mean, and he needs nothing else but honest industry to raise him to the top of the tree. Poor and proud must 'perish in his pride.' " One extract more, and we must unwillingly take leave of Roger. We have seen advertisements of quack schoolmasters (a race almost as nume- rous as the quacks in physic, and more mischievous by half), where, as a bonus to good guardians (for it can hardly be intended for parents), there is an " N. B. No vacations." This is jirobably defended on the ground, that any interruption of studies is not only a loss of time, but luitits the mind for returning to its laboui'S. Some people were of that opinion in the sixteenth century, but not so was Ascham, Avho strengthens his own by others' sentiments : — " I heard a good husband at his book say, that to omit study some time of the year, made as much for the increase of learning, as to let the land lie fallow for some time niakcth for the better increase of corn. If the land be jjloughed every year the corn Cometh thin up,^ — so those which never leave poring on their i)ool\s have oftentimes as thin invention as other poor men have." Hear this, ye little boys, and when Christmas comes, sing a christmas carol to the memory of Roger Ascham, who was one of the truest and wisest friends you ever had, — the pupil of Sir John Cheek, the tutor of Queen Eliza- beth — of whom Sir Richard Sackville * said, that he was the " schnlar of the best master, and the master of the best scholar." •Sir Richard Sackville, father to that famous Thomas Sackvilk who wrote thi. 332 ROGER ASCHAM. The nictliod of Icai-nintr Latin (of course equally adapted to any other lanijiiairc) advised by Aschani consists chicHy in dotible translation. He would have the master construe and explain a given portion of an author to the pupil, till the words and arrangement w'erc fixed in the memory ; then let the pupil be set apart, and, without promjiter, write Aovm. the translation in English ; and after a sufficient interval, turn it back into Latin, on a separate piece of paper. Then let the master compare the second translation with the original, and explain such differences of diction and idiom as may occur, referring to the grammar for the proper rules ; thus teaching the grammar in the concrete rather than in the abstract. Whatever difficulties may attend the adoption of this system in public establishments, it is obviously most proper for private tuition and self instruction. The "Scholc-master" is the best known of all Ascham's worlcs. Of the Toxophilus nothing more need be said, except that an admirable analysis of it, Mith copious extracts, may be ftjund in the Retrospective Review, vol 1., p. 76 Of his "Report and Discourse of the Affiiirs and State of Germany," published after his death, in 1570, wc have already spoken. His Latin Epistles were collected and edited by his admirer, ,j3r. Grant, with a dedication to Queen Elizabeth, and that panegyrical oration to M'hich we have so often referred. An immense deal of information might be gleaned from these letters, as to the literary and political state of Europe at a most interesting juncture. The mere names of Ascham's correspondents shew how much intercourse subsisted between scholars in those days. Antony Wood attributes to our author a treatise against the INIass, but this is doubtful. " Induction to the Mirror for Magistrates," perhaps the best poem produced between Chaucer and Spencer, was Chancellor of the Exchequer, and so famous for the wealth which he amassed, that he was anagrammatically called Fill -sack. The family came in with William the Conqueror. Sir Richard Sackville died in 15G6, and his loss was severely felt by Ascham, whose " Schole-master," says Dr. .Johnson, " though begun with alacrity, in hopes of a considerable reward, was slowly and sorrowfully finished, in the gloom of disappointment, under the pressure of distress." The office of patron was for some generations hereditary in the house of Sackville. The praises bestowed upon Charles, Earl of Dorset, by grateful or hungry poets, would fill a large folio. Nor did they cease with his death. Prior's dedication to his son, is one of the most elegant panegyrics in the English language, and Pope's Epitaph, though very incorrect in expression, will make Dorset longer remembered than any of his own writings, though Drjden puts him on a level with Juvenal. Blest Peer ! his great forefather's every grace Reflecting and reflected in his race, While other Backhursls, other Dorsets shine, And poets, sUIl, or patrons, deck the line. IIOOER ASCHAM. 333 As<;li;im was of a slender form and weak constitutifin, temperate in his general lial)its, and jiartieularly averse t(» a lisli diet, wliidi in those fastinir times was a eonsiderahle ineonvenienre. lie wiui interred in the most private manner, in St. Sepulchre's. Buchanan wrote an epigram tjii his death, with which we shall conclude: — Aschamum cxtinctum patri;c, Graiajque Cama-na; Kt T.atiiu vera cum pietatc dolent Priucipibus vixit earns, jucundus amicis Re inodica, in mores diceru fama requiL The native Muses join with those of Greece And mighty Rome, in pious ccrief for Ascham, Whom Princes valued, and his frionds beloved ; With little wealth he lived, and spotless fame. Some of our readers may feel a little curiosity to know who was the Mr. Elnu r of whom Lady Jane speaks so aflfectionately. He will not be found under that nanu in any Diographical Dictionai-y with which we are accpiaintcd. Yet he was a man of some note : he suffered persecution, and obtained the reputation of a persecutor. As it may not he unprofitable to contrast to the quiet unambitious life of Roper Ascham the perturbed career of one of his earliest friends, who made what would be called a better use of his opportunities, we shall set down a few notices of Mr. Elmer, referring those who wish to know more, to " Stype's Life of Bishop Aylmer," " Neal's Jlistory of the Puritans," and the other works from which we derive onr knowledge of the ecclesiastical history of his tim».'s; warning them, however, against believing cither party too confidently in any point where they could err without wilfully lying. The name of this little great man is variously written Elmer, Aylmer, or accord- ing to his own signature, iElmcr. He was of a good old family, as his Saxon name indicates, a younger brother of the Aylmers, of Aylmer hall, Norfolk, born 1521, studied both at Oxford and Cambridge, as was then usual, at the cost of Ilciiry Grey, Manpiis of Dorset, and aftenvards Duke of Suffolk. When he was well furnished with University learning, the Marquis made him tutor to his own daughters, of whom Jane was the eldest. Being a zealous Protestant, he instilled into his pupil the principles of the reformed religion : for a time he was the only preacher in Leicestershire. (Be it recollected, that not every curate, no, nor every rector, was then a preacher, or even a reader of lithographed MS. sermons, to supply which defi- ciency, the Homilies were put forth.) By the interest of his patrons he was made, in !-').5.3, archdeact>n of Stow; but, Mary succeeding, he at once confirmed his roputation and lost his archdeaconry, by disputing against the real presence in the convocation, commenced on the IGth October. He was one of six, who, in the midst of all the \'io- lences of that clerical assembly, challenged all comers to argne on all jioiuts of reli- gion, and offered to maintain the Reformation against the world. But when the secular power interfered in the controversy, ^Imer withdrew beyond seas : the short- ness of his stature providentially preserving his life. For the ship wherein he was cm barked being suspected, and searched by the agent* of pel^ecution, he wius concealed in a large wine vessel, which had a partition in the middle, so that while Uie blood- hounds were lapping wine from the one side the cask, JLluitr lay suug in the other. 334 ROGER ASCHAM. This tale, which I relate on the authority of my special favourite, old Fuller, is need- lessly questioned by some gnat-strainers, as if there were any miracle in the matter. Mig;ht not the wine cask be contrived on purpose to serve at such a crisis ? Persecu- tion sharpens men's wits to cunninger devices than that. However, jElmer (for it is a point of conscience with me to spell good men's names as they chose to spell them themselves) did escape, and took up his abode, first at Strasburgh, and afterwards at Zurich, and there in peace followed his studies, occasionally travelling to other cities, so that he visited most of the Universities of Italy and Germany, and had an offer from the Elector of Saxony, of the Hebrew Professorship at Jena. During his exile, he published (according to Stripe) Lady Jane Grey's letter to Harding, a chaplain of her father's, who had apostatized; assisted Fox in translating his Book of Alartyrs into Latin; and made a version of Cranmer's vindication of the Book of the Sacrament against Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester. But his chief work was one which well became the preceptor of Lady Jane Grey. John Knox had just sounded his furious " First Blast against the monstrous Regiment," to which we have heretofore taken occasion to allude. ^Imer, moved, it may be, by recollection of that vernal flower of womanhood which himself had helped to rear, opposed the salique divinity of Knox, and maintained the rights of the sex, in a discourse entitled " An Harborowe for faithful and trewe Subjects, against the late blowne Blast concerning the Govern- ment of Women ; wherein be confuted all suche reasons as a Straunger of late made in that behalfe. With a briefe Exhortation to Obedience." Printed at Strasburgh, 1559; dedicated to the Earl of Bedford, and to Lord Robert Dudley, Master of the Horse, afterwards the famous Leicester. The book was well-timed, appearing in the first year of Queen Elizabeth, and prepared the way for its author's return. The fact is, that in 1556 the reformers of Great Britain had every thing to dread from women; Queen Mary reigning in England, and Mary of Guise, in her daughter's name, exercising sovereign authority in Scotland. But when iElmer's reply appeared, in 15.59, the tables were turned. A woman was the hope of the Protestant cause, as opposed to papal supremacy, though to Reformation, in John Knox's view, she was the great and only obstacle. ^Elmer's vindication of female sovereignty could not be unacceptable to Queen Elizabeth, nor his dedication, to her favourite. Perhaps neither of them were displeased with a passage which brought the author into a good deal of trouble, when time and experience, and a mitre, had shewn him reason to change his green opinion. "Come off, ye Bishops," saith the future prelate ; " away with your superfluities, yield up your thousands, be content with hundreds, as they be in other reformed churches, where be as great learned men as you are. Let your portion be priestlike, not princclike. Let the Queen have the rest of your temporalities, and other lands, to maintain these wars, which you pro- cured, and which your mistress left her embroiled in ; and with the rest to build and found schools throughout the realm ; that every parish church may have his preacher, every city his superintendant, to live honestly, and not pompously, which will never be, unless your lands be dispersed, and bestowed upon many, which now feed and fat but one. Remember, that Abimelech, when David in his banishment would have dined with him, kept such hospitality, that he had no bread in his house to give him but the shew bread. Where was all his superfluity, to keep up your pretended hospitality ? For that is the cause that you allege why you must have thousands, as though you were commanded to keep hospitality with a thousand, rather than with a hundred." Surely Al)imelcch would have taken care to be better provided with bread for unexpected visitors, if he could have ROGER ASCHAM. X)') ibresecn what a conclusion was to hv drawn from the barrenness of his pautr}-. Never was a well-meaning Scripture more illegally subpa;naed to give evidence in an alien cause in all the annals of controversy ; not even when Herodias and her daugh- ter are brought to ])rove the unlawfulness of dancing. But there is no limit to the absurdities into which wist- men may fall, when they begin to rummage the Bible for precedents, instead of abiding by the commandments of. their Saviour, and the doc- trines of the Spirit. Barring this outrageous inference, the pa.ssage was not ill timed. The exhortation to give up the "rest of the temporalities" to the Queen, wa.s no way disagreeable to Elizabeth, whose aim was to keep the clergy in subjection to herself; the reducing of the Bishops from thousands to hundreds, could not ofl'end Bedford, who was rich in abb.'v- lands, nor Dudley, who had a greedy eye upon the residue of the widow Church's jointure : no wonder that they favoured the Puritans. As for what is said about schools and preacherships, aud the new-fangled term Superinten- dant, the literal translation of the word usually represented by its curtailed descendant Bishop, that might serve well enough to give a popular colour to aristocratic rajjine. The republican tendencies of Puritanism were then very imperfectly understood by the majority of the Puritans themselves. When Dr. j'Elmer was, in after times, reproached with these expressions, he never attempted to explain them away, as his biographer Strype has done, as if only Popish Bishops were meant, but honestly confessed that " when he was a child, he spake as a child," cum essem parvulus, loquebar cum parvulis, sapiebam ut pamilus," perhaps he might have said, still more honestly, " Cum essem pauperculus, loquebar cum pauperculis." Eveiy poor young author should remember the possibility of his some- time being rich, and the impossibility of recalling his words. As well might the quick repenting murderer whistle to the bullet that is sped, or bid it go another way, as the writer that has published a popular sentiment attempt to retract or change its meaning. He that has once opened a fountain of truth, can never seal it up again. "It flows, and as it flows for ever shall flow on." There is another passage, in .(Elmer's " Harborough," which defines the three estates of the English constitution so plainly, that we cannot resist extracting it : — "The Regiment of England is not a mere monarchy, as some for lack of consideration think ; nor a mere oligarchy, nor democracy; but a rule mixt of all these; wherein each of these have, or should have, like authority. The image whereof, aud not the image, but the thing indeed, is to be seen in the Parliament house; wherein you shall find these three estates, the King or Queen, which representeth the monarchy, the noblemen, which be the aristocracy, and the burgesses and knights, which be the democracy. The verv' same had Laceda-monia, the noblest and best governed city that ever was," and here he goes on to describe the Spartan constitution, blunderingly enough ; but -Silmer was never happy in finding precedents. But what follows is worthy notice : — " If the Parlia- ment use their privileges, the King can ordain nothing without these. If he do, it is his fault in usurping it, and their folly in permitting it Wherefore those that in King Henry's days would not graut him that proclamations should have the force of a statute, were good fathers of the countr\% and worthy commendation in defending their liberty." Such sentiments publicly avowed in a w ork professing the principles of civil obedience, and never formally recanted, did not prevent jElmer from being made a Bishop. Yet Hume could say, that the first definition of the English constitution, according to our present ideas of it, was contained in a declaration issued under the name of C^harles 1. after his retreat to York in 1642; and that "this style, though the sense of it was implied in many institutions, no former King of England would have used. 336 ROGER ASCIIAM. and no snlijoct would have liocn permitted to use." Wc see that a suhject did use it uupuuished, and any Kinij would have used it, if his interest had ruquinnl liini to shew that the government of England was not a pure democraci/, that the King was an essential member of it, as well as the Lords and Commons, IJut no former monarch had been set to prove this in his own behalf, and it was not very likely that Kings and Queens would volunteer to set limits to their own authority. Hume sophistically confounds the theory with the practice of the former days. The Tudors were practically despotic enough, and so were the Plantagenets whenever they had the power; but the arbitraiy maxims of the prerogative lawyers and court divines were new in the reign of Elizabeth. Be it recollected, that ^Elmer's work was not an attack upon royal prerogative, but a defence of it. Soon after the accession of Elizabeth, ^Imer returned to England, and was one of the tight divines apjioiuted to dispute with as many Romanist Bishops, at West- minster. Of course his arguments were then as strong as in the convocation of 1553, they had been weak. In 1562 he obtained the Archdeaconry of Lincoln, and after several intermediate preferments, was finally advanced to the sec of London, in 1576, from which time to his death he was continually engaged in quarrels, which did him little honour, but leave an impression that he was not only an intolerant and overbearing, but a captious, avaricious, and litigious man. He sued his predecessor, Edwin Sandys, for arrears and dilapidations, and was afterwards prosecuted before the privy council, for injuring the property of his diocese by cutting down wood, which exposed him not only to a severe censure from Burleigh, and a prohibition from the crown, but to an infamous pun upon his name, some would-be-witty Puritan saying, that he was no longer Elmar, but Mar-elm. Men seldom pun so vilely as when they are in a passion : and Bishop jElmcr was a severe prosecutor, not to say persecutor, both of the Catholic recusants and the Puritans, against whom his seve- rities were either too great or too little for sound policy, and at all events inconsistent with christian charity. His acts of discipline were rendered more obnoxious by his addiction to railing, and calling hard names. But there can be little satisfaction in dwelling on this part of his conduct, which was too much in the spirit of the times, and provoked such extreme opposition, that he was fairly worn out, and vainly requested to exchange his diocese of London for that of Ely. He died June 3d, 1594, and was buried at St. Paul's. He wrote nothing of any consequence, but his " Ilarborough," the rough treatment that work received from certain quarters dis- gusting him with the press; so that he declined to answer the Jesuit Campion's " Ten Reasons," though pressed to the task by the treasurer, Lord Burleigh. He composed, however, a short prayer, to be used in churches and private families, on occasion of the earthquake of 1580, and another, against the excessive rains of 1585. He was also a zealous and frequent preacher, and of so lively a strain, that whenever there was any bad news afloat, he was sure to be appointed to preach at court, and never failed to revive the Queen's spirits. Anthony Wood gives a choice specimen of one of these cordial discoiu'ses, preached, it would seem, when some alarm had arisen from astrological predictions, and possibly rumours were afloat of f^izabeth's proposed marriage. " Here is much talk of malum ab atpiilonc, and our prophets have prophecied that in exaltatione Lunae Leojungctur Leaenae, and the astrono- mer tells us of a watery Trigon. But as long as Virgo is in that ascendant with us we need not fear of anything. Dens nobiscum, quis contra nos?" If such was the usual style of his discourses, we may rather wonder at the effect produced, when, upon one occasion, seeing his audience half asleep, he began to read a long text in ROGER ASCHAM. 337, Hebrew, wliicli prcsintly sit Uuir drowsy t-yes wide open, wlun.npon lie turned their awakened alLeiition to profit, by pointing out their absurdity in listening to Hebrew, of which they understood not a word, and neglecting English, which might make them wise unto salvation. The fanatics may claim the credit of banishing buHoon ery from the church, as Tom Paine banished infidelity from the polite circles, by carrying it into pot houses. Bishop vElmer was doubtless a learned divine, though he has not thought fit to leave many proofs of his learning behind him. He was a great Hebraist, and a patron of Hebrew scholars, particularly of the celebrated Ihoughton, who first main- tained the now approved exposition, that Hell, in the Apostle's Creed, means Para- disc, a very comfortable doctrine for sinners. The word ought to be altered. Hades, the original term, like the Hebrew Schocl, means simply the place, or rather state, of separate spirits; but Hell, in modern English, has no such latitude of signification, therefore, though Hades may signify Paradise, Hell cannot; and though the creed is scriptural in Greek, it is unscriptural in the English translation. But Bishop j^lmer was not only learned, but brave; of mean stature, saith Anthony, but in his youth very valiant, which he forgot not in his old age. Of his valour in old age. Stripe, his panegyrical biographer, produces an instance which, for the credit of all parties concerned, we hope is fictitious: — Queen Elizabeth was once grievously tormented with the tooth ache, and though it was absolutely necessary, was yet afraid to have her tooth drawn : Bishop iElmer being by, to encourage her Majesty, sat down in a chair (which no man could have done unbidden in Bessy's presence without a sound box on the ear), and calling the tooth drawer, Come, said he, though I am an old man, and have few teeth to spare, (he must have lost his Denies Sapl- cntiok a Doctor's degree. He was called the irnfragable Doctor, and Doctor Doctoruni ; so sroat an houorer of the Virgin -Mary, that lie uever denied those thai sued in her uaiue. Died 1245. 344 JOHN FISHER. manners as become the best studies. For tlic University of Cambridge long ago, doth iiourisli with all ornaments, Jolin, Bishop of Rochester, being Chancellor thereof." Thus though there was a great difference of temper, and, at that time, no little variety of opinion, between the grave, ascetic Fisher, and the liberal, cosmopolite Erasmus, yet there was between them the com- mon tie of a love for the Greek language, wherein the one rejoiced in his proficiency, and the other wished to make up for his deficiency. At the time that Fisher received his education, Greek was in a manner unknown in England ; or if understood by any, it was only by those who had completed their studies in foreign Universities. The first teachers of that language had to contend with strong prejudices, and the students were sometimes exposed to manual violence. Greek was an innovation, and liable to the same plausible and prudential objections which apply to innovations in general ; for every accession of knowledge convicts antiquity of ignorance, and the security of establishments requires that antiquity be deemed infalliJjly wise. Whatever tempts a young man to say " I am wiser than the aged," infringes upon disci- pline, and reverses order. Old men are naturally averse to new studies, and cannot be expected to yield a ready approbation to novelties, which reduce them to the altei-native of yielding their pre-eminence, or strug- gling for it with their juniors. It was, therefore, a great generosity in Fisher that he encom-aged the new learning by his fostering influence; and a wonderful proof of candour, industry, and good sense, that he, an elderly man, and a Bishop, already engaged in many labours at an age when most men think themselves entitled to rest, set himself to acquire a very difficult kind of knowledge, and persevered till he had acquired it. Knight, in his life of Dean Colet, gives a pleasing account of the Bishop's Greek studies, which we shall give verbatim : — " Dr= John Fisher, reputed the best i)reacher, and the deepest divine in these times. Head of Queen's College, in Cambridge, Chancellor of the Uni- versity, Chaplain at Court, and Bishop of Rochester, was very sensible of this imperfection, [the M'ant of Greek,] which made him desirous to learn Greek in his declining years, and for that purpose he wrote to Eirasmus to persuade William Latimer, an Englishman, (who from his travels had brought home that language in perfection,) to be his instructor in it. Erasmus accordingly wrote to Latimer, and impor- tuned him to it. But he declined undertaking to teach the Bishop at those years, alledging the long time it would take to make any profi- ciency, from the example of the greatest masters of it then in England, Grocyn, Linacrc, Tonstal, Pace, and More, and, to excuse himself, advised that the Bishop should send for a master out of Italy." Bishop JOHN FISHKR. ;34j Fislier's M'ant , libri H,) as raw, small, and windy; whereby it appcai-s, 1st. Ale in that age wxsthe constant beverage of all colleges, before the innovation of beer, the child of hops, was brought into England : 2nd. Queen's College Cerevisia was not vis Cereris, but Ceres vitiata. In my time, when I was a number of that house, scholars continued Erasmus's complaint, whist the brewers, (having, it seems, prescription on their side for long time,) little amended it The best was that Erasmus had his lagena or flagon of wine, (recruited weekly from his friends at London,) which he drank sometimes singly by itself, and sometimes encouraged his faint ale with the mixture thereof. " He was public Greek Professor, and first read the grammar of Chrysoloras to a thin auditory, whose number increased when he began the grammar of Theodoras. Then took he, by grace freely granted unto him, the degree of Doctor in divinity, such his commendable modesty, though over deserving a Doctorship, to desire no more as yet, becaiuse the main of his studies were most resideut on humanity. Here he w rote a small tract, dc coiiscribriulis cpistolis, [on vphtotarii composition), set forth by Sibert, printer to the University. Some years after, he took upon him the Divi- nity Professor's place, (understand the Lady Margaret'.s,) invited thereunto, not by the salary, so small in it'^elf, but with desire and hope to do good in the employment. "If any find him complaining, Hie, O Acattemiam niilliis. Sic. Here's an Uniiersity indeed, wherein none can he found who will at any rate be hired to torite hut indiffvrenth/, know this might tend much to his trouble, but sounds nothing to the disgrace of Cambridge. Indeed, in Dutch academies, many poor people make a mean livelihood by writing for others, though but liberal mechanics in their employment. No such mercenary hands in Cambridge, where every one wrote for himself, and if at any time for others, he did it gratis, as a courtesy for good will, no service for reward. But too tart and severe is Erasmus his censure of Cambridge townsmen. Vulgus Cantabrigiense inhospitales Britannos antecedit qui cum simima rusticitate sumniam malitiam conjunxere. " The Cambridge mob outdo the general inhospitality of Britons, uniting the greatest spitefulness with the greatest clownishness." Fuller's Hist, of Cambridge, page S8. Had Erasmus visited the English Universities in the 19th instead of the I5th cen- tury, he would have found plentj' of persons who could be hired not only to write but to compose inditlercntly, and who make a very comfortable livelihood therebv. Hut it is probable that, in Erasmus his time, impositions had not yet been substituted for corporal punishment by the conservators of academical discipline, and to be flogged by proxy, was the exclusive privilege of royal blood. The office of whippiua: bov still continued in the pupillage of Charles 1., for Burnet mentions the person who held it. It was much coveted for the children of the poorer gentry', as the first step in the 2 k MG JOHN FISHER.. liim in professing Greek, Mliidi lie liimself had at last made liimself master of." ladder of prefermt'iit It is a woiuk-r that it is not continued as a shiccure. Barnaby Fitzpatrick was whipping bo_y, or, as Fuller, with more than his usual delicacy expresses it, pro.ri/ fur correction, to King Edward VI., which, considering the good disposition and towardliness of that Prince, must have been a very easy office. He was afterwards employed as an emissary in France. It is to be hoped that Erasmus has been wrongfully accused of spoiling his lagena by adulterating it with the Ceres ritiata of Queen's college. If he was guilty of such an enormity, the kindness of his London friends was thrown away upon him. Our readers will doubtless remember the distitch, (read with considerable vari- ations) ; — Hops and Turkeys, Cai-p and Beer, Came into England, all in a year. The precise year has not been mentioned, but it must have been after 1504, and during the reign of Henry the Eighth, which was a great epoch in the annals of schism and gastronomy. Queen's college Ale no longer deserves the imputation cast upon it by the philolo- ger of Rotterdam; but we are sorry to say that the commonalty of the University towns are not much mended in their manners. The hostility of Town and Gown still continues. Much of the rudeness, not to say brutality, of the natives in and around these fountains of Christian knowledge, is to be ascribed to the vulgar contempt with which they are treated by a certain part of the students. If it be essential to gentility to speak contemptuously of the i^iih/m, it were surely more decorous to call names in Greek or Latin, (and the vituperative copia verborum of those learned languages is peculiarly ample,) than in such bald English as Clods, Snohs, ffc. But what right had Erasmus to affix the character of inhospitality to the English in general, cherished and honoured, as he was, by the highest in the English nation, and made a Professor in an English University ? Yet the charge has been repeated from generation to generation. Perhaps it is true, that foreigners are subject to more insults, out of doors, in England than elsewhere, but where do they find so much kind- ness within doors? Where is there so sure a refuge for the distressed of all nations? Hither come the proscribed of every sect in religion, and every grade of no religion, and every party in politics; the monarch flies hither from the storm of revolution, and hides his " grey discrowned head" in a palace, and the priest, when his function has become a bie-word in his own land, finds here a welcome and a congi'egatiou. For sure, the blest, immortal Powers Have fixt a pillar in the desert sea, A steadfast column of security, Even this isle, this sea-fenced land of ours : Appointed by divine behest, A sea-mark for the wandering guest, A saiety for the poor opprest, Heie is a home for all that need. For every speech, and every creed. So it was, long time ago, AIuv time for e\er find it so. loiiN risni:i;. . 317 Tlic foiintlatioii of Christ Collt'^e was cumideU'd in 1. >()(), and tlir iiislio]) (»f RoclR'ster was apjxiintcd V^isitor for lifo l>v tin- statutes, in case of the deniiso of the foinuhrss. No sooner was this great \iorK finished, than tlie Lady IMai'garet j)rojectcd another still more magni- ficent, and ohtained the King's license for founding St. John's College ; hut hefore it coiild pass through all the necessary fer- plexed iK'tuecii lier two lovers, referred to an old lady, lier usual confi- dante, who advised her to aj)|)ly for direction to St. Nichohis, the tutelar saint of youth ,■ and IMargaret earnestly besought the saint in prayer to guide her ch(»ice according to the best purj)oses of Heaven ; so it came to pass, one morning, she knew not whether she were sleeping or waking, a venerable man in the habit of a Bishop, (whom she con- ceived to be St. Nicholas himself,) tendered her Edmund Tudor as lier husband. She related this vision to her parents; tiie sujjerna- tural warning M'as accepted, and she was married accordingly. Such is the story, and there is nothing in it incredible. Bishop Fisiier believed it, or he would not have related it in the awful presence of death ; no doubt he received it from Margaret herself; and would she have ini])osed a fiction (»n the man before whom she Mas wont to lay bare her soul in the dreadful secrecy of the ctmfessional ? Her funeral took place before it was l)ecome necessary " to prop a falling church with leiilal falsehood," and though the sup])osed miraculous interposition might be of use in sanctifying the Tudor dynasty, it was not at all indispensable to Henry VIII., who had an undisputed title from the Hoxise of York : and besides, Fisher lived and died to shew that he was not a man to belie his conscience for any king. But what we mainly rest upon is the probal)ility of the story in itself. JMargaret, though she Mas allowed no choice, might still have a preference betMcen her suitors. Even the romantic pedigree of the Earl of Richmond, certainly royal on one side, (a descendant of St. Louis,) and connected on the other M'ith so much t>f the poetry, then rife in baronial halls, might deeply affect her virgin imagination. Her sight was familiar with the images of the saints, her memory Mith their legends. She Mas used from infancy to make all her desires knoMii in prayer, Mhich m'ujht reach Heaven, though it went a round-about road. She Mould naturally dream of M'hat her thoughts and feelings were engaged in, and what form Mould her dreiuns more natiu-ally assume, than that of the most revered and striking objects to Mhich her waking life had been accustomed .-' Even in this day, yoiuig ladies sometimes dream of their lo^ ers, it may be in connec- tion M ith a ball or a revieM', or any thing else that they have associated M-ith them. Nom' all iMargaret's thoughts were associated Mith saints and visions, and religious pageantry.* Some may think this apparition an innocent stratagem, concerted by ♦ Should any be disposed to give another explanation, uiul Imhl tliat the prayer of pure lips was actually answered, I should neither ridicule nor contradict thcni. That the circumstances of the vision were accommodated to the habits nf the beljolder's imagination, is iu strict aiialojcy with unJuubted reMlati<.>ii. 352 JOHN FISHER. INIarsaret witli her aged friend, to obtain the Man of Iter Heart. A Lady of so nuu'h piety, and so much l)enevolence, coidd not liave lived all her life without falling in love. But we think she dared not have triried Avith St. Nicholas. However it was, Margaret was married to Ednuuid of Hadnam ; but short was his term of wedded bliss, for he died in the second year of his nuptials, leaving his only son, the future monarch of England, a fifteen months' infant. Though the Countess of Richmond had two subsequent Inisbands, she never had another child, and devoted to the oifspring of the husband of lier virginity as much of her affections as she thought heaven could spare. Her second marriage Mas with Sir Henry Stafford, second son of that Duke of Buckingham, •who has been dishonourably immortalized by Shakspeare, as the uncon- scientious ally of Duke Richard, and the selfish rebel against the King Richard of his own making. Sir Henry died in 1482, soon enough to escape participation in his father's double treasons. His widow mar- ried, before her weeds had lost the freshness of their sable tint, Thomas Lord Stanley ; it is said, under an implied condition that the marriage was never to be consummated. Her husband, and alas, she also, played a very treacherous part to Richard the Third, which the fullest belief in his recorded atrocities cannot justify. Margaret held the train of Richard's Queen, at his coronation, and continually supplicated him to restore her son to his patrimony, and to allow him to marry one of the daughters of Edward IV., while she was intriguing with her father-in- law, Buckingham, and the Queen Dowager, to supplant Richard and set her son on the tlirone. Her principal agent in these negociations was Morton, Bisliop of Ely. It is needless to say, that this conspiracy failed, and its prime mover was very deservedly decapitated ; for who- ever was the rightful king, he was a most egregious traitor, " So nuich f(»r Buckingham." The Lady IMargaret Stanley, M'hose machinations were well known, was treated by the tyrant Richard far more gently than her son treated the Avidow of Edward the Fourth. She was only committed to the custody of her husband, whose defection at the battle of Bosworth l)rought about the destruction of the last, it may be the worst, of the Plantagenets. Stanley was made Earl of Derby, f(jr what the event of a battle might have made the blackest treason. Thomas Lord Stanley, first Earl of Derby of tlie Stanley's, died in 1504, leaving no issue by the Lady Margaret, who then, at the mature age of sixty- four, after the death of her third husband, took a vow of celibacy, which .still remains among the archives of St. John's college. In some ])ortraits .she is represented in the habit of a nun, but it docs not appear that she ever entered formally into any religious order. Her charities Mere great and meritorious. If in some instances. JOHN FISHER. ;J53 tliey M'ere not wliat tlie present age would calJ judicious, still tliej' were such as her age approved ; am], in ok iiuich as she was an encnurager of learning, it is evident that slie looked to an age beyond her own. So large Mere her benertcences, that as Stow says, " they cannot Ije expressed in a small volume." She daily dispensed suitable relief to the poor and the distressed. She kept twelve poor persons constantly in her house, and having ac(piired that know ledge of practical surgery, which was then a regidar j)art of the education of the highJiorn female; she frecpientlv dressed the woiuids of the indigent diseased with her own hands. She was b(»m either too late or too soon ; hail she lived in an earlier age, she would have found more to sympathize Mith that zeal M-hich iinj)elled her to declare, " that if the Princes of Christendom would lay aside their mutual quarrels, and combine in a crusade against the Turk, she would most willingly attend them, and Im? the laundress in their camp." Had she been bom later, her excellent heart woidd have l)een regulated by a better instructed head, and she would have built the fabric of her religion and morality exclusively on " the foundation of the Apostles and Prophets." If she had lived in our days, perhaps she would not hare committed the error recorded in Jortin's Life of Erasmus, in making the son of her third husband a Bishop, without being well certified that he was divinely called to the office. But here is the tale, judge of it as you please. "At this time (1496,) Erasnnis refused a lai*ge pension, and larger promises, from a young illiterate Englishman, who was to be made a Bishop, and who wanted him for a preceptor. He woidd not, as he says, be so hindered from prosecuting his studies for all the wealth in the world. This youth, as Knight informs us, seems to have been James Stanley, son to the Earl of Derby, and son-in-law to Margaret, the King's mother, and afterwards made Bishop of Ely by her interest. This (says Knight) surely tvas the worst thing she ever did, and indeed, if it be the Catholic, it is not the apostolic mode of bestowing, and of obtaining. Bishoprics. However, it appears that the young gentleman, if ignorant, had a desire to learn something, and to qualify himself in some measure for the sta- tion in Avhich he was to be placed." If IMargaret never did any thing worse than this, she was a haj)py woman indeed. Bislioi)rics never can be obtained, or bestowed, in the apostolic method, till it shall please the Almighty to gift the rulers of the cIuutIi with the miraculous discernment of the Apostles. As long as ever the church is in any degree connected with the property of the cmuitry, the superior offices in it must, and will be bestowed, on political considerations ; and what proof is there that young Stanley was less fit for a Bishop than any other person, whose name might have been draw n in the lottery ? As an 2 V 354 JOHN FISHER. Earl's son, he liad at least a good chance of being a gentleman, which for a man who exercises a somewhat invidious superiority over gentle- men and scholars often his seniors, and it may be, in some respects, his betters, is no small recommendation. As long as patronage is permitted, it is natural and right that the patrons should patronize those M'hom they know best, and love best. No established church can bear any resemblance to the primitive church, which grew up in opposition to all establish- ments ; and prevailed over all the banded powers of earth and hell by " an invincible patience." But considering the church in its political rela- tions, as a mean of civilization, and an organ of the state, useful to sanctify civil obedience, it is specially desirable, in every country where an aristocracy exists, that a large, perhaps a major portion of the heads of the church, should be selected from the aristocracy. Even in a land of slaves it Mill always be found that the higher the rank of the slave- master, the better the condition of the slave. God save me, said a poor christian negro, from having Blackee for ]\Iassa. God save me, might the poor Vicar say, from a Bishop that has tutored, and written, and preached himself to a mitre. No doubt, it would be a very good thing, if the church were so constituted, that the best and most experienced ministers, could always be intrusted with the highest authority. But Avhile the church is a member of the state, we must be thankful that its emoluments are so well distributed as they are, and that there are always so many liberal gentlemen on the Bench as to prevent the English clergy from degenerating into mere priests. A single fact will at once justify and explain our meaning. Cardinal Pole Avas the descendant of kings ; a man devotedly attached to that Church, of which, had he lived longer, he probably might have been the chief; yet he ^vas an enemy to persecution. Gardiner and Bonner were both natural children of men not high enough to dignify their bastardy ; they derived their respectability solely from their rank in the church, and they were the cruellest of persecutors. No panegyric can be more concise, pregnant, or proper, than Fuller's U])on the Lady IMargaret, which is almost equally applicable to Bishop Fisher, that she was " the exactest /)«//erft of the best devotion that those times afforded, taxed M'ith no personal faults, but the errors of the age she lived in." She was buried nearly a month after her departure, in the South isle of Henry ^''II's chapel, with all the pomp then usual, and had a sumptuous monument, with a gilt brass cfHgy, and an epitaph, for writing which Erasmus received twenty shillings f»f the University of Cambridge, a very scanty remuneration, even m hen all allowances are made for the high value of money. It is as follows: — " IMargaretae Richmondia;, septinii Henrici IMatri, Octavi Aviae, JOHN FISHER. 355 quae stipciidi.i ronstituit tribus lioc cocnoltio ]Monacliis, ct Doctor! Granunaticcs ii])U(l W'iiihorii ; perque Aiij^liaiii totain diviiii vcrhi prac- coiii (luobus item iiiterpretihus litlierarum sacraruni, alter! Oxonis Alteri CantxibrigiiK, ubi et collegia duo, Christo et Joliamii discipulo ejus, struxit. IMorilur An. Doiii. loOi), tertio Kal. Jul." " Sacred to the memory of iMargaret, Countess of Richmond, mother of Henry VII. and grandmotlier of Henry VHI, wlio founded salaries for three INIonks in this convent, for a grannnar-school at Winburne, and a preacher of God's Word throughout England ; as also for two divinity lecturers, the one at Oxford, and the other at Cambridge, in vhich last place she likewise built two colleges in honour of Christ and of his disciple St. Jolin. She died in the year of oui* Lord 1509, June 29." Thus far the life of Fisher liad been a life of peace, piety, and use- fulness: from the decease of liis good mistress his troubles may Ijc said to have begun. As one of the eight executors of the Lady IMargaret's will, lie undertook the weighty task of perfecting the foundation of John's College, in which he met with unexpected opposition: — "A generation of prowling, progging, projecting prGmofers (such vermin- like Pharaoh's frogs will sometimes creep even into King's chambers), questioning the title of the land of the college, took from it at once four hundred pounds of yearly revenue."* This took place in the very commencement of the reign of Henry VIII. and was never redressed. But notwithstanding this unpropitious circumsttince, the College was ra})idly finished, and immediately crowded. That man must indeed have been highly favoured, who was allowed a study to himself; and it is said that those vho had private letters to write were ol)ligod to cover the paper with their hands, to prevent their secrets being over- looked by the throng of chums. In 15IG Bishop Fisher rejiaired to Cambridge, to open the new house of the JMuses with due solemnity, and was commissioned to make statutes for its regulation. How mightily it grew and flourished we have already declared in the life of Ascham. It has always been a resort of students from the northern provinces, mIio, if less brilliant and mercurial than the children of the south, are not less eminent in honours, their slow and sound minds being peculiarly adapted for the patient toil of mathematics, in which branch of knowledge St. John's competes honourably with Trinity. During the first years of Henry VIII. Bishoj) Fisher retained a large portion of favour. The Countess Margaret, on her death bed, com- mended the inexperience of her grandson to his ])astoral care, and Henry, who was not born without good dispositions, though he outlived • Fuller. 350 JOHN FISHER. thcni all, respected him as a spiritual fatlier. In 1512 lie was appointed to represent the English Church at the Council of Lateran, but, for some ftirgotten cause, the appointment never took elFect. Doubtless he was consulted by the young King in regard to the confirmation of his espou- sals to Catherine, his brother's widow, of which nothing but the ceremony had hitherto taken place. It is by no means true that Henry had no scru- ples respecting the lawfulness of that union, till his conscience was awa- kened by the charms of Anne Boleyn. Though no more than tMelve years of age at his brother Arthur's death, he remonstrated strongly against the project of marrying him to a woman considerably his senior, of a very ordinary person, and a demure, spiritless reservedness of manner, which youth is ever apt to ascribe to a morose temper. But his father could not prevail upon himself to restore the 200,000 ducats which composed Catherine's portioii. The Pope's dispensation was as potent to annul the rights of nature as the laws of Moses, and the contract was formally made. Still Henry might, when arrived at years of discretion, have refused to ratify an act in which he had never, in any true sense of the Mord, been a consenting party. It is even said that his father, on his death-bed, urged him to break off the contract. Warham, the Primate, certainly disapproved of it ; but the majority of the council, and the Lady INIargaret, who only just survived the solemnization of the nup- tials, were of the contrary opinion. Whether Fisher approved of the marriage, we can only conjecture. Certainly he was strongly opposed to the divorce, and believed in the dispensing power of the see of Rome. For some years the Bishop of Rochester took little part in public affairs. Pageantry, war, and negociation were the main occupations of the English court, and in the first and last, the clergy were as much busied as the laity. But Fisher had little taste for either. Ambition and vanity were as alien to his nature as they were predominant in Wolsey's. To the dangers which threatened the Church he could not be entirely blind. The opinions of Wickliffe, in spite of increasing persecution, were gaining ground. Henry VII., who, like his prede- cessor Henry IV., needed the sanction of the clergy to heal the defects of his title, had, in the latter part of his reign, enforced the laws against heresy with ruthless severity, and Henry VIII., though more secure on his throne, shewed no inclination to treat the Lollards with more lenity. Even those who saved their lives by recanting were forced to wear a representation of a faggot Avorked in thread on their left sleeves all the days of their lives, on pain of death. " And indeed, to poor people it was — pul it of, and be burned — keep it on, and be starved ; seeing none generally would set them to work that carried that badge."* * Fuller. JOHN FISHER. 357 Fislier li;i(l liis sliaro in tliosc j)erseciitions; fdi- liis faith was in every tittle the faitli of his Chureli, to doulit or swerve from which lie hehl the worst of crimes ; and any conipassion done or felt towards such revolters he hehl to Iwi soul-murder. IJut when it is considered that the more enli«i;htencd mind of 8ir Thomas JMore was persuaded to sup- port the fallin^f fabric by the rack, the scourge, and the stidve, there can be little surprise that Fisher knew nothing of tctleration. He wa.s not ignorant of the needfulness of j)ractical reforms in the church : he dis- approved of exorbitant wealth or temporal po\\ er in the hands of the clergy : lie abhorred licentious manners and lax opinions in the servants of the altar : but he would have all j-eforms brought about by the authority of the church alone, without any interference of lay power ; and in doctrinal points he dared not so much as admit the possibility of error in the established creed. Meantime he did not forbear to rej)rove the wordly dispositions and inconsistent conduct of the priesthood both by his example and his discourses ; of m hich latter the following speech, delivered in convocation,* is no unfavourable sample : — " JMay it not seem dis])leasing to your Eminence and the rest of these grave and reverend fathers of the church, that I speak a few words, which I hope may not be out of season. I had thought that when so many learned men, as subsfifulesf for the clergy, had been dra\vn into this body, that some good matters should have been propoiuulcd for the benefit and good of the church ; that the scandals that lie so heavy on her men, and the disease wliich takes such hold on those advantages, might have been hereby at once removed, and also remedied. Who liath made any the least proposition against the ambition of those men whose pride is so offensive, whilst their jirofcs^ion is humility .'' or against the incontinency of such as have vowed chastity? How are the goods of the church wasted ? the lands, the tithes, and other obla- tions of the devout ancestors of the people (to the gi'eat scandal of their j)osterity) wasted in superfluous riotous expenses ? How can we exhort f)ur flocks to fly the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, Mhen we that are Bishops set our minds on nothing more than that which we forbid ? If we should teach according to our doing, how absui-dly woidd our doctrines sound in the ears of those that should hear us .^^ And if we teach one thing and do another, vho shall believe nur report ? which would seem to them no otherwise, than if we should throw down with one hand M'hat we build up with the other. We preach humility, sobriety, contempt of the world, and so forth, and the jH'oplo perceive in the same men that jn'each this doctrine, pride and * In the synod of the whole clergy assemble;! l>y Wolsey in bis capacity of legate n latere. f i. e. Rcprcscntativcb. 358 JOHN FISHER. haughtiness of mind, excess of apparel, and a resignation of ourselves to all worldly ]K>nips and vanities. And ^hat is this otherwise than to set the people at a stand, whether they shall follow the sight of their own eyes, or the helief of what they hear ? Excuse me. Reverend Fathers, seeing herein I blame no man more than I do myself; for sundry times, Mhen I have settled myself to the care of my flock, to visit my diocese, to govern my church, to answer the enemies of Christ,* suddenly there hath come a message to me from the court, that I must attend such a triumph, or receive such an ambassador. What have we to do with Princes' courts ? If we are in love with Majesty, where is a greater excellence than whom we serve ? If we are in love with stately buildings, are there higher roofs than our cathedrals ? If with apparel, is there a gi-eater ornament than that of the clergy ? Or is there better com])auy than a communion with the saints? Truly, most Reverend Fathers, what this vanity in temporal things may work in you I know not ; but sure I am, that in myself I find it a gi-eat impediment to devotion. Wherefore I think it necessary (and high time it is) that we that are the heads should begin to give example to the inferior clergy as to these particulars, whereby we may all be the better conformable to tlie image of God. For in this trade of life \vhich we now lead, neither can there be likelihood of perpetuity in the same state and condition ^vherein we now stand, or safety to the clergy." It may be remarked, that the ostentation of Wolsey, and the superi- ority which he claimed and asserted, even over the Archbishop of Canterbiu-y, in his own province, was deeply offensive to the great body of his clerical brethren, who, though apparently included in Fisher's censure, would take care to apply it, in their minds, to the Cardinal alone. The events between 1516, and 1529, are so vast, and so infinitely ramified, the great outlines are so universally known, and the detail so complex, and in many parts so obscure, that while such a sketch of them as could be reduced within our limits, could be nothing more than a bald recital of facts with which every schoolboy is acquainted, and dates easily ascertained from any table, a full and comprehensive survey M'ould turn our memoir of Bishop P^isher into a civil and religious history of the world. Nor would it be possible to treat the subject w^ith- out entering into controversies, both on questions of opinion, and on matters of fact, quite alien to our purpose. We shall confine ourselves chiefly to the part acted and suffered in the contest by our present subject. Almost as soon as Luther appeared in the (character (jf a Reformer, * i. c. Persecute the Lollards and Lutherans. JOHN r LSI [Ell. 359 Bishop Fisljcr entered tlic i)oleniic field a.t,':iinst 1:1m. It has even heeti asserted that the famous defence of the Seven Sacraments, ^hich ohtained for the Kinj-- of England the title of " Defender of the Faith," was in a great measure his compositicm.* The Bishop certainly took upon himself to answer the ansM'crers of his sovereign, little thinking how fell a foe that sovereign was ordained to prove to the system he was then uphdlding. Tlidugh Fisher must liave felt Wolsey's monopoly of the King's countenance very grievous, and, douhtless, groaned in spirit for the scandals and oi)i)ressions of the church, he offered little or no opposition to the court measures, and j)erhaps, had too entire a devotion to that pontifical power, which he esteemed the earthly dispenser of salvation, to dispute lightly with the Pope's legate, however surreptitiously his lesratine office mi«rht have been ohtained, or hoMcver indiscreetly exer- cised. It was not till tlie legality of the King's marriage began to be called in (juestion, and the infallibility of the Vatican implicitly limited, that lie became an obstacle at once to the King's passions and the Car- dinal's purposes. Henry and Wolsey were alike bent on the repudia- tion of Catherine, who was now somewhat declined into the vale of years, with little hope of male issue. It is pretended that Wolsey's resentment against the Emperor Charles V., who had du])ed him with regard to the Papacy, Mas the fountain head of all those scrui)les, examinations, negcx-iations, and protestations, wliich ended in the divorce between England and the church of Rome. The favourite intended to give his sovereign in marriage to the French King's sister, and the rupture M'ith the Emperor likely to be occasioned by the slight put ui)oii his aunt, woidd, in a manner, compel Henry to side with the French interest. However this might be, the majority of divines, casuists, and canonists, were agreed that the King's marriage * " There is a tradition that King Henrj-'s fool (though more trnly to be termed by another name) coming into the court, and finding the King transported with an unusual joy, boldly asked him the cause thereof, to whom the King answered, it was because the Pope had honoured hiiu with a st>le more eminent than any of his ances- toi-s; "O good Ilariy, (quolh the fool,) let thou and 1 defend one another, and let the Faith alone to defend itself." Fuller's Church Historj'. Book Vth. Is the use of this title by the Protestant King's of England perfectly honest > It is not long since our sovereigns laid down the style of King's of France, and they did wisely; but of the two they had better have retained a memorial of the Fifth Harrj's valour, than of the Eighth Harry's school divinity-. Titles, ceremonial privileges, and armorial bearings, are only interesting or significant, in so far as they are historical. Let those then be maintained which are associated with the most glorious passages of historv. 300 JOHN FISHER. was unlawful, and the bull of Pope Julius II. invalid ; inasmuch as the alleged grounds for granting were not true. For in the preamble it was stated that the dispensation was granted at the special recpiest of Prince Henry, who, at the time that the bull was obtained, had scarcely reached his twelfth year, and, as far as he had any will of his own^ was strongly opposed to the bargain. When, after many delays, it was at last decided by the Pope to send Campeggio as Wolsey's assessor, and that they, in the quality of commis- sioners for the Pope, should take cognizance of the cause pending between Henry and Catherine, Bishop Fisher, along Mith Nicholas West, Bishop of EI3', and Henry Standish, Bishop of St. Asaph, were appointed the Queen's advisers and counsel. Henry could have had no thought at that time, of disowning the Papal authority, for lie appeared in person at the citation of the Pope's representatives, to answer their interrogatories. " It was fashionaljle among the heathen," says old Fuller, " at the celebration of their centenary solemnities, which returned but once in a hundred years, to have a herald publickly to proclaim ' Come hither to behold what you never saw before, and are never likely to see again.'" But here happened such a spectacle, in a great room called the Parlia- ment chamber, in Blackfriars, as never before or after Mas seen in England, viz. King Henry summoned in his own land to appear before two judges, the one Wolsey, directly his subject by birth, the other his subject occasionally by his preferment, Campeggio being lately made Bishop of Salisbur3^ Summoned, he appeared personally, and the Queen did the like the first day, but afterwards both by their Doctors." As to be present on such a strange occasion would be no trivial incident in any man's life, and the part he bore in the proceedings was a most important one in Fisher's, we shall not scruple to extract largely from the account of this trial, given by Cavendish, the faithful servant and biographer of Wolsey, a contemporarj', and probably an eye-witness, whose leaning, if any, was to the Queen's, which was also Fisher's side. It must be premised, that the trial commenced on the 31st of May, 1529. " Then after some deliberation, his (Campeggio's) commission, under- stood, read, and perceived, it was by the council determined that the King and the Queen his wife, should be lodged at Bridewell,* and that • The sending of the King and Queen to Bridewell seems ominous to modern ears, till they recollect (if ever they knew) that the Bridewell here meant was a magnificent house in Fleet-street, sometime the property of the extortioner Emjjson, but merged in the crown at his attainder, and given by the King to Wolsey. In the patent, dated l.!>10, an orchard and twelve gardens are enumerated as belonging to it. It stood JOIIX IISIIER, 3G1 in tlie Black-Friars, a certain place sliould 1)0 a))poiiite(l wlierc the King and tlie Queen niij^lit most conveniently repair t<» the court, there to he erected and Kej)t for tlie disputation and deterniinati(»n of the Kinj;'scase, whereas these two Icj^ates sat in jud^nnent as notaljle jud^a-s, before whom the King and Queen were duly cited and summoned to appear. Which was the strangest and newest sight, and device, that ever was liearr read in any history or chronicle in any region, that a King and Queen sliould be convented and constrained by process compcllatory to appear in any court as common persons, within their own realm or dominion, to abide the judgment and decrees of their own subjects, having the royal diadem and the prerogatives thereof." 4f- * * * * " If eyes be not blind men may see, if ears be not stopped they may hear, and if pity be not exiled they may lament, the sec^uel of this per- nicious and inordinate carnal love. The plague whereof is not ceased, (although this love lasted but a while,) which our Lord quench, and take from us his indignation. " Ye shall imderstand, that there was a court erected in the Black- Friars, in London, where these two Cardinals sat in judgment. Now will I set you out the manner and order of the court there. First, there was a court placed with tables, benches, and bars, like a consis- tory, a place judicial, for the judges to sit on. There was also a cloth of estate, under the which sat the King, and the Queen sat at some distance beneath tlie King : under the judges' feet sat the officers of the court. The chief scribe there was Dr. Stejdiens,* who w^as after- wards Bishop of Winchester : the apparitor was one Cooke, most com- monly called Cooke of Winchester. Then sat there, M'ithin the said Court, directly before the King and the judges, the Archbishop of Canterbiu-y, Doctor Warham, and all the other Bishops. Then at both ends, with a bar made for them, the counsellors on both sides. The Doctors for the King were Dr. Sampson, that was afterwards Bishop of Chichester, and Dr. Bell, who was afterwards Bishop of Worcester, with divers others. upon the ground which is now occupied hy Salisbuiy Square and Dorset-street, its gardens reaching to the river. In this Bridewell took place that intcniew between Queen Catherine and the two Cardinals, so beautifully dramatized by Shakespeare. Henry VIII. Act 3, Scene 1st. ♦Thi'^ was the Gardiner, " of undesirable cclcbrin," who in his younger days was usually called by his christian name, Stephen, or Stevens. He was the natural son of a Bishop, therefore he had but an equivocal title to a sirnamc. It should be remembered, that the practitioners in the courts of civil and canon law were generally ecclesiastics Wi'orv the Reformation. •2 z 3(52 JOHN FISHER. "Now on the other side stood the counsel for the Queen; Dr. Fisher, Bisliop of Rochester, and Dr. Standish, some time a Grey Friar, and then Bishop of St. Asaph, two notable clerks in Divinity ; and in especial the Bishop of Rochester, a very godly man and a devout person, who after suffered death at Tower-Hill ; the which was greatly lamented through all the foreign Universities of Christendom. There was also another ancient Doctor, called, as I remember. Doctor Ridley, a very small person in stature, but surely a great and an excellent clerk in Divinity. "The court being thus furnished and ordered, the judges commanded the crier to proclaim silence : then was the judges' commission, which they had of the Pope, published and read openly, before all the audi- ence there assembled. That done, the crier called the King by the name of ' King Henry of England, come into court,' &c. With that the King answered and said, ' Here, my Lords.' Then he called also the Queen, by the name of ' Catherine, Queen of England, come into court,' &c., who made no answer to the same, but rose up incontinent out of her chair, where as she sat, and because she could not come directly to the King for the distance which severed them, she took pain to go about unto the King, kneeling down at his feet in the sight of all the com-t and assembly, to whom she said, in effect, in broken English, as followeth : — * " ' Sir,' quoth she, ' I beseech you, for all the loves that have been * " Here the Queen arose, and after her respects dealt to the Cardinals, in such man- ner as seemed neither uncivil to them, nor unsuiting to herself, uttered the following speech at the King's feet, in the English tongue, but with her Spanish tone, a clip whereof was so far from rendering it the less intelligible, that it sounded the more pretty and pleasant to the hearers thereof. Yea, her verij pronunciation pleaded for her icllh all Infjeniwus auditors, providing/ her some piti/, as due to a foreigner far from her own country".— Fuller's Church History. Book V. The speech which Fuller puts into the Queen's mouth is essentially the same as that in Cavendish, from whom it was transferred into the Chronicles. Shakespeare has shown his good sense and good feeling by preserving it almost entire in his Henry VHI. " Hall has given a different report of this speech of the Queen's, which he says was made in French, and translated by him, as well as he could, from notes taken by Campeggio's secretary. In his version she accuses Wolsey with being the first mover of her troubles, and reproaches him, in bitter terms, with pride and voluptuousness. Such harsh language could hardly deserve the praise ' modeste tamcn cam locutam fuisse ' given by Campcggio.— iVote to Sinyer's edition of Cavendish's Life of Wolsey. Burnet, whose " cue " was not to excite compassion for Queen Catherine, denies the authenticity of the speech altogether. He affirms positively that the King did not appear personally, but by proxy ; and that the Queen withdrew after reading a protest against the competency of the Judges "And from this it is clear," says the JOHN FisffF.R. 3nr? between us, aiid for the love of God, let me have justice aiul rij^lit ; take of me some pity and coinjjassion, for I am a jKtor woman and a stranger, born out of your dominions. I have no assured friend, and much less inditlorcnt counsel, I Hce to you as to the head of justice within this realm. Alas, Sir, wherein have I offended you, or what occasion of displeasure ? Have I designed against your will and plea- sure, intending, as I perceive, to put me from you ? I take Gml and all the world to witness, that I have been to you a true, hunihle, and obedient wife, ever conformable to your will and pleasiu-e, that never said or did any thing to the contrary thereof, being always well pleased and contented with all things in which you had any delight or dalliance, whether it were in little or in much, I never grudged in word or countenance, or shewed a visage or spark of discontentation. I loved all those whom ye loved, only for your sake, whether I had cause or no, and whether they were my friends or my enemies. This twenty years I have been your true wife, or more, and by me you have had divers children, although it hath pleased God to call them out of this Avorld, which hath been no default in me. And when ye had me at the first, I take God to be my judge I was a true maid ; and whether it be true or no, I put it to your conscience. If there be any just cause by the law that ye can allege against me, either of dishonesty or any other impediment, to banish and ])ut me from you, I am well content to depart, to my great shame and dishonour ; and if there be none, then here I most lowly beseech you, let me remain in my former estate, and receive justice at your hands. The King your father was, in the time of his reign, of such estimation throughout the world for his excellent Bishop, "that the speeches that the historians have made for them are all plain falsities." It is easy to contradict the confident affirmation of the historian, upon the authority of a document published by himself in his records, p. 78. It is a letter from the King to his agents, where he says, " At which time both we and the Queeu appeared in person, and they minding to proceed further in the cause, the Queen would no longer make her abode to hear what the judges would fully discern, but incontinently departed out of the court; wherefore she was thrice /)reconn/sa/e, and called eftsoons to return and appear, which she refusing to do, was denounced by the judges, conttimax, and a citation decerned for her appearance on Friday." Which is corroborated also by Fox's Acts, p. 9o8. Indeed the testimony for the personal appearance of the King before the Cardinals is sui-prisingly powerful, even though we did not go beyond Cavendish and the other ordinary historians. But ia addition to these. Dr. Wordsworth has produced the authority of William Ihomas, Clerk of the Council in the reign of Edward VI., who, in a professed apolog>- for King Henry VIII. extant in MS. in the Lambeth and some other libraries, speaking of this aftair, affirms, " that tlic Ciudinal Canipeggio causi'd the King, lus a private party, in person to appear before him, anil the Lady Catherine both.".--.S'/'/i.'/<'''. 364 JOHN FISHER. wisdom, that he was accounted and called of all men the second Solo- mon, and my fatlier, Ferdinand, King of Si)ain, who was esteemed to be one of the wittiest Princes that reigned in Spain, many years Itefore, were both M'ise and excellent Kings in wisdom and princely behaviour. It is not therefore to be doubted, but that they elected and gathered as M'ise counselloi's about them as to their high discretions was thought meet. Also, as to me seemeth, there were in those days as wise and as well learned men, and men of as good judgment as be at present in both realms, who thought then the marriage betwixt you and me good and lawful. Surely it is a wonder unto me, that my marriage, after twenty years, should be thus called in qviestion, witli new invention against me, that never intended but honesty. Alas, Sir, I see I am wronged, having no indifferent counsel to speak for me, but such as are assigned me, with whose wisdom and learning I am not acquainted. Ye must consider, that they cannot be indifferent counsellors for my part which be your subjects, and taken out of your own council before, wherein they be made privy, and dare not, for your displeasure, disobey your will, being once made privy thereunto. Therefore I most hundjly require you, in the way of charity, and for the love of God, who is a just judge, to spare me the extremity of this new court until I may Ix; advertised what way and order my friends in Spain will advise me to take. And if ye will not extend to me so much indifferent favour, your pleasure then be fulfilled, and to God I commit my cause." Having thus spoken, she rose, courtesied to the King, and left the court, accompanied by Griffith, her steward, and though summoned a second time in due form, she refused to return, or in any way to acknowledge the jurisdiction of the court ; nor could she ever after be induced to appear before it. Nevertheless, the trial or rather exami- nation proceeded, the Queen being adjudged contumacious. According to the author just quoted, the King next addressed him- self to the judges and audience ; commencing with a full acknowledge- ment of Catherine's freedom from all personal offence, and resting his cause solely on his conscientious scruples. " For as much," quoth he, " as the Queen be gone, I will in her absence declare unto you all my Lords here j)rescntly assemliled, she hath been to me as true, as obedi- ent, and as conformable a wife as I could, in my fancj^, Avish or desire. She hath all the virtuous qualities that ought to be in a woman of her dig- nity, or in any other of baser estate. Surely she is also a noble woman born, if nothing were in her, but only her conditions will well declare the same." He then, after explaining the first suggestion, and progressive corro- boration of his 'ocruples, (to which he would not allow that any amorous JOHN FISHKR. 3f3a considerations were accessory,) dcniaiidcd of the assembled Prelates, and first of liis own Confessor, Lonjiland, Bislmp of Lincoln, whether his present course were not taken witii their advice and approhation, signi- fied under their own seals." Whereupon, if we believe the biographer of Wolsey, a singular scene took jdace, in which Fisher displayed luiconinion boldness of soul and bluntness of speech. The Archbishop of Canterbury obsequiously assented to the King's assertion. " That is the truth if it ])lease your Highness ; I doubt not but all my brethren here present will atlirm the same." " No sir, not I," iinaco rcritatem, I know the truth." " How know you the truth," quoth my Lord Cardinal. " Forsooth, my Lord," quoth he, " Ego sum professor veritulis, I kn(»\i- 3G() JOHN FISHER. tliat God is truth itself, nor he never spake but truth that saith, " wliom GckI hath joined together, let no man put asunder, and forasnuich as this marriage Mas made and joined by God to a good intent, I say that I know, the which cannot be broken or loosed by the power of man upon no feigned occasion." " So much do all faithful men know, quoth the Lord Cardinal, as well as you. Yet this reason is not sufficient in this case, for the King's counsel doth alledge divers presumptions to prove the marriage not good at the beginning, ergo, say they, it was not joined by God at the beginning, and therefore it is not lawful ; for God ordaineth nor joineth nothing without a just order. Therefore it is not to be doubted but that these presumptions must be true, as it plaiidy appeareth ; and nothing can be more true in case these allegations can- not be avoided ; therefore to say that the matrimony was joined of God, ye must prove it further than by that text which ye have alledged for your matter ; for ye must first avoid the presumptions." " Then," quoth one Doctor Ridley, " it is a shame and a great dishonour to this honourable presence, that any such presumptions should be alledged in this open court, which be to all good and honest men most detestable to be rehearsed." " What," quoth my Lord Cardinal, " Domine Doctor, magis reverenter." " No, no, my Lord," quoth he " there belongeth no reverence to be given to these abominable presumptions ; for an unrevereud tale would be unreverently answered." And there they left, and proceeded no farther at that time." The exertions of Fisher in defence of the legality of the Queen's mar- riage, were not confined to these altercations, to which divorce causes have ever been disgracefully liable. He addressed a letter to Wolsey in her favour, and presented to the legates a book entitled " De causa matrimonii Regis Angliae." * " The Case of the King of England's mar- riage." But it was neither books nor legates that were to stop the course of Henry's will. The separation of Britain from the Roman communion was decreed, and providence ordered that the passions of men should minister to the mighty end, that so the glory might be God's alone. The investigation was protracted from sitting to sitting, and no real progress made, or intended to be made. Henry, weary and impatient, * "This work of Fisher's was long supposed to exist only in MS. but in the public auction of Don Jos Antonio Conde's librarj^, a printed copy was purchased for Mr. Hebcr, which appears to have issued from the press of Alcala (Complutum) in Spain, the printer of which says, that the manuscript copy was given him by the Archbishop of Toledo. It is probable that the Spanish agents in England contrived to obtain a copy, and sent it to the Emperor Charles V. It would not have been permitted to issue from the press in England."---iS'(rt^e?-. JOHN FISHKR. 307 at the Buggostum, it is said, of the Earl of Wiltsliirc, father to Anne Boleyn, urged, and in a manner eonipelled the two Cardinals to repair to the Queen's apartments,* and persuade her by their politic and ghostly counsels, to avoid the scandal and mortification of the public trial, by surrendering the whole matter, with her own free consent, to the Kings discretion. This M'as, in effect, commanding her to resign her connubial rights and royal dignity, and to retire into a convent, or any other place, where she might be out of the May. She remonstrated with much dignity, and shewed much iniwillingness to trust the two churchmen, who pretended to advise her for the best. She complained that she was " a simple woman, destitute and barren of friendship and counsel in a foreign region/' and never could be brought to gratify the King by confessing herself to have lived for so many years in unholy matrimony. Her reliance on her nephew, the Emperor, whose influ- ence over the vacillating Pt)pe Clement had alone prevented the disso- lution of her marriage by Papal authority, emboldened her to avoid the snare, which Mas laid before her eyes. To the Pope she had prinly ai)pealed, and the Imperial interest noM' preponderating at the Vatican, Campeggio received secret instructions, unknoMu, it is said, to Wolsey, to adjourn the court and advoke the cause to Rome. The artful Italian spun out the trial till the 23rd of July, M-hen there was a general expecttane new Ijrou^ht into servility and thraldom, and l»y little and little to be quite banished out of those dwelling places, which the piety and liberality of our fore- fathers, as most bountiful benefactors, have conferred u])on her ; (»ther- wise, to what tendeth these portentous and curious petitions of the Connnons ? To no other intent or piwpose, but to brinf; the clergy into contempt with the laity, that they may seize their patrimony. JJut, my Lords, beware of yourselves and j'oiu- country; be\vare of your Holy mother the Catholic Church ; the people are subject unto novelties, and Lutheranism spreads itself amongst us. Remember Germany and Bohemia, what miseries are befallen them already : and let our neigh- bours' houses that are now on fire teach us to beware of our o\» n disas- ters. Wherefore, my Lords, I will tell you plainly what I think ; that except ye resist manfully, by your authorities, this violent heap of mis- chiefs ottered by the Cojumons, ye will see all obedience first drawn from the clergy, and secondly from yom-selves. And if you search into the true causes of all these mischiefs which reign among them, you shall find that they all arise through want of faith." This speech, which was any thing but conciliatory, while it was highly applauded by those who abhon-ed or dreaded change, excited the alarm and indignation of the Reformers in lK)th Houses, and was not calculated to remove from the King himself those unfavourable dispositions which the Bishop's conduct in the divorce business had occasioned. The Duke of Norfolk, who was nearly connected with Anne Bt>leyn, arose in his ])lace and said, " IMy Lord of Rochester, many of these words might well have been S])arc(l ; but it is often seen, that the greatest clerks are not always the wisest men." Fisher retorted, "]MyLord, I do not remember any fools in my time that proved great clerks." But the Commons were particularly scandalized at the conclusion of this harangue, which plainly ascribed their enmity to the clergy to their unbelief in the Catholic doctrines. As soon as they were informed of this attack, they sent Sir Thomas Audley, their speaker, with thirty of their members, to complain I)efore the King, to whom, as they shrewdly suspected, complaints against Bishop Fisher were far from unacceptable. The speaker, in the name of the Commons of England, set forth "how shameful and injurious it was that they, the chosen representatives of the English j)eople, selected from among their ronntrvnien for their wisdojn, virtue, and good fame, .should bo taxed (and thnnigh them the Connnons of all England) w itli 3 A 370 JOHN FISHER. infidelity and athcisin." Tlie King summoned the Bishop to liis i)re- sence, and asked him, sternlj^ " Why he spake tlms ? " Fislier justified liimself by saying, " tliat being in council, he spake his mind in defence of the Church, which lie saw daily inj'ared and oppressed by the common people, whose office it was not to judge of her manners, much less to reform them ; and therefore he thought himself in conscience bound to defend her all he conld." Henry, in his latter years, when he was utterly corrupted by the habit of despotism, would scarce have endured this plain speaking ; but he had an old reverence for Fisher, which ho had not yet quite shaken oflf, so he dismissed him with an admonition, " to use his words more temperately." But some expla- nation was necessary to appease the House of Commons, which Henry wished to keep in good humour, as the most legal and convenient instrument of his rapacity and of his vengeance. So the venerable Pi-elate was forced to the subterfuge, that it was the troubles of Bohe- mia, not the acts of the Commons, which he ascribed to want of faith ; and this explanation, which the speech, as delivered down to us, will by no means admit, was conveyed to the House by Sir William Fitz- Williams, the Treasurer of the King's Household. Burnet says, that " though the matter was passed over, they tvere not at all satisjied with it." If they really hated the church, they could not have obtained a more satisfactory triumph than that of compelling a Bishop to preva- ricate in his own defence. The speech was very injudicious and ill- timed. Nothing tends so much to precipitate revolution as imputing revolutionary purposes to all proposals of reform ; and refusing what is justly claimed, because the concession may be followed by a further and unjust claim. And the people will ahvays be more reasonably satisfied with a moderate reform, in which they themselves appear to co-operate, than with a much larger boon, the acceptance of which is an acknowledgment of subjection. But if only one man, in his zeal for established things, declare that there shall be no reform, he is politi- cally answerable for Avhatever extremities may follow. Fisher, it is true, when he was addressing the clergy, insisted on the })ropriety of their reforming tiiemselves, but he could not persuade the laity that the clergy ever would voluntarily reform abuses which it was their interest to perpetuate. In the autumn of 1529 a side-blow was aimed at the Court of Rome, Avhich, though its inunediate intention was only to ruin Wolscy, tended to break the connection between the English clergy and the Pope, by making it penal. The Lords had drawn up forty-four articles of accusation against Wolsey, which ])assed through their House without JOHN FISHKR. .'jyi much opjvtsitioii ; l)ut in the House of ConiUKtiis, Tliom;is Cromwell * defended his master's cause with so much spirit and argumentative power, as to prove that it is not ahsohitely true, that " a favourite lias no friend." The ohject was U) deprive the Cardinal of his wealth, his great offence in the public eye, as his supposed double-dealing in the matter of the divorce was his crime against the King, who was not insensible that confiscation is generally ])opular with the many, and the spoils of the mighty always acce})tablo to the mightier. But the forty-four articles t were either so weak in themselves, or so ♦"The case stood so, that there should begin shortly after All-irallown-tide the Parliament, and he (Master Cromwell) being within London, devised within himself to be one of the burgesses of the Parliament, and chanced to meet with one Sir Thomas Rush, Knight, a special friend of his, whose son was appointed to be one of the burgesses of that Parliament, of whom he obtained his room, and by that means put his foot into the Parliament House : then within two or three days after his entry he came unto my Lord (Wolsey), at Esher, with a much pleasantcr countenance than he had at his departure, and meeting with me before he came to my Lord, said unto me, " that he had once adventured to put his foot where he expected shortly to be better regarded, or all were done."— Cavendish's Wolsey, p. 273. So the friendly traffic in parliamentarj' seats, at which " our ancestors would ha^■e started with indignation," was not unknown in the reign of Henry VHL True there is no mention of money given or received, but it is plain that no constituents were consulted on the occasion. f The character of Wolsey has been hardly dealt with ; not too hardly, if we com- pare what he was with what a minister and ruler of Christ's people ought to be; but comparing him with the class of clerical statesmen to which he belonged, he had so many virtues, and has been even accused of so few and trivial offences, that surely his memory might plead for less rigorous justice. He was a very bad clergj-man, he was not a good man, but he was not by any means a wicked politician. The atrocities which blacken the reign of Henry VHI. did not begin till after, and did begin almost immediately after, his disgrace and dismissal. He appears to have truly lo^ed his King; he was a kind, an affectionate master to his dependants, and was much beloved by some who knew him well. The narrative of his life by his servant Caven- dish, is one of the most delightfully affecting pieces of biography that we ever read. For the gentleness with which it shadows, not conceals defects, and the warm light of affection in which it brings out every semblance of goodness, it vies with Johnson's Life of Savage ; but over all, and through all, there is a deep gratitude, a veneration, a religious loyalty, and a holy mourning for the departed, which is peculiarly its own. Cavendish was a zealous Catholic, but not as such had he any cause to consecrate the ashes of Wolsey, who certainly hurried the downfal of his church, by rendering its wealth and power the objects of universal envy, and set the example of diverting the monastic revenues to other puqioses than those for which they were bequeathed. As Fuller felicitously expresses it, " having of his own such ^a stock of preferment, nothing but the poor man's jCmv ImwIi would please him, so that being to found two colleges, he seized on no fewer than forty small monasteries, turning their inhabitants ovit of house and home, and converting their means principally to a college in Oxford. 372 JOHN FISHER. ably rolnittcd, that the Commons, perhaps the King liimself, were ashamed to proceed upon them. However there was a rusty sword, (to This alienation was confirmed by the present Pope Clement the Seventh, so that in some sort his Holiness may thank himself for the demolishing; of Religious Houses in England. For the first breach is greatest in effect; and Abbies having now lost their virginity, diverted by the Pope to other purposes, soon after lost their chastity, per- verted by the King to ordinary uses." If in addition to this, Wolsey really did insti- gate the divorce to bring about a French alliance, he did as much as the folly of man could do, towards bringing about the Reformation. But this his devoted servant would not believe. Cavendish's accoimt of the prosecution of his master, and of Wolsey's defence, is so clear and interesting, that we may be allowed to extract it, if it were only because Wolsey was an Archbishop of York. "Then was there brought in a Bill of Articles into the Parliament House to have my Lord condemned of treason; against which bill Master Cromwell inveighed so discreetly, with such wittj' persuasions and deep reasons, that the same bill could there take no effect. Then were his enemies compelled to indite him in a praemunire, and all was done only to the intent to entitle the King to all his goods and pos- sessions, the which he had gathered together and purchased for his colleges in Oxford and Ipswich, and for the maintenance of the same, which was then a building in most sumptuous wise. Wherein, when he was demanded hy the judges which were sent to him purposely to examine him, what answer he would make to the same, he said, • The King's Highness knoweth right well whether I have offended his Majesty and his laws or no, in using of my prerogative legatine, for the which ye have mc indited. Notwithstanding I have the King's license in my coffers, under his broad seal, for exercising and using the authority thereof, in the largest wise, within his Highness' dominions, the which remaineth now in the hands of my enemies. There- fore, because I will not stand in trial or question with the King in his own cause, I am content here, of mine owii frank will and mind, in your presence, to confess the offence in the iuditemeut, and put myself wholly in the mercy and grace of the King, having no doubt in his godly disposition and charitable conscience, whom I know hath an high discretion to consider the tnith, and my humble submission and obedi- ence. And although I might justly stand on the trial with him therein, yet am I content to submit myself to his clemency, and thus much ye may say unto him in my behalf, that I am intirely in his obedience, and do intend, God willing, to obey and fulfil all his princely pleasure in every thing that he will command me to do; whose will and pleasure I never yet disobeyed or repugned, but was always contented and glad to accomplish his desire and command before God, whom I ought most rather to have obeyed ; the which negligence greatly reproveth me. Notwithstanding, I most heartily recpiire you to have me most humbly to his royal Majesty commended, for whom I do and will pray for the presentation of his royal person, long to reign in honour, prosperity, and quietness, and to have the victory over his mortal and cankered enemies." And they took their leave of him and departed.--C'ai-t'«(/t4//, 27 1, 27.5, 27f), 277. If Wolsey was not the best of Chancellors, he well understood the duties of his office, as will appear from his speech made to the King's emissaries, whu came to demand of him to surrender to the crown York Place, now White-Hull, an ancient appanage of his diocese : — JOHN FISHER. 373 recur to a favourite expression of Rontley's, Mho was a Henry the Ei^^hth in Iiis way,) which served tlie purpose, and a deeper ])urp<»se too. This was tlic statute of Pro visors, Mliich made it criminal to pro- cure any hull, or tlie aj)pointnient to any henefice, from the Pnj»e, luider the penalty of a prcemunire* which was, (tlic very tiling wanted) a forfeiture of all effects, real and personal to the King, and an out- lawry, or exclusion from the Kinportiiiiity to miii^k' jxiisoii in tlio pnicl that was ])i-oj)arinL,^ for the Bisliop and his Iniusfhold. Proljahly it was a fast day; for the Bislioj), fasting altoge- ther, escaped ; but of seventeen persons, who part(»ok of the gruel, two died, and the rest were terribly disordered. We may suppose the crime of poisoning to have been frightfully common in England, since it was thought necessary, by an express act, to declare it high-treason, and to punish it by boiling alive, which horrible death was inflicted upon the miserable Rouse. If he thought to ])lease the King by removing a thorn out of his side, he found himself mistaken. But it is more likely that he was a fanatic, whom Fisher's severity in enforcing the laws against heresy had driven mad. Excessive cruelty in punish- ment rarely answers its purpose, for Me find that the example of boiling Rouse did not deter a Moman servant from jKiisoning three families; She suffered the same penalty, which was abolished along Avith the rest of Henry the Eighth's new invented treasons. It is the chance of impunity ; not the lenity of punishment that encourages crime. The Spanish incpiisition was the only system of cruelty that j)erfectly answci-ed its end ; but this succeeded rather by destroying all confi- dence and security than by the terror of its ghastly tortures. The other danger which threatened the Bishop proceeded from a cannon ball, which being shot from the other side of the Thames, pierced through his house at Lambeth-marsh, and only just missed his study. This might ])ossibly be accidental, but Fisher suspected a design against his life, and retired to his sec of Rochester. The divorce cause, which, upon the Queen's appeal, had been adioked to Rome, still lingered on. The case had been divided into three and twenty heads, and a year was consumed in discussing the first, which had little relation to the main point, and was of a natiu-e which had better not been discussed at all. Perhaps the suit was wilfully pro- tracted, in hopes that the death of Catherine would end it in the most convenient manner ; for she had many infirmities, and a breaking lieart : but this jirospect suited not the impatience of Henry. That he endured so long delay can only be ascribed to his reluctance to break with the see of Rome. But accident about this time introduced him to Cranmer, and all his scruples were quickly removed. In 1521 it M'as first proposed in Convocation to bestow on the King the title nf Supreme Head of the Church. Fisher opposed the innovation, w liicli to him aj)peared ])lusphemous, with all his might, and succeeded so far as to get a clause inserted to the effect, that the King was acknow- ledged Head of the Church, in so far as it is lawful by thk LAW OF CHUIST, wluch w as almost taking away with the one hand 376 JOHN FISHER. Avliat was given by tlic other. In tins form, liowevor, it passed tlio uji])cr limiso of Convocation, nine Bisliops and fifty-two Abbots and Priors vt)ting in its favour. If we are to believe the author of the Life of Bishop Fisher, pub- lished under the name of Bailey, but really composed by Hall, a bigot- ted Romanist, and seminary priest at Cambray, King Henry was mightily enraged at the introduction of this neutralizing ingredient into his title. He sent for those whom he had employed to manage the business in the Convocation, and rated in the following kingly strain : — " JMother of God ! you have played me a pretty j)rank : I thought to have made fools of them, and now you have so ordered the business that they are likely to make a fool of me, as they have done of you already, Go unto them again, and let me have the business passed ■without any quantums or tantums. I will have no quantums or fan- tums in the business, l)ut let it be done." But in truth, there is nothing in eastern fiction more unfounded than the reports of Princes' private conversations with which many so-called histories abound. The poet may well be allowed to overhear the whispers of lovers, and the soliloquies of captives in their dungeons, but the historian should not usurp the same privilege. This assumption of supremacy met with little opposition in the province of Canterbury, but York, encour- aged by Archbishop Lee, held out long and honourably, and sent t\vo letters to his IMajesty, respectfully informing him of their reasons for denying the title he claimed. The King, the evil of whose violent nature was not yet ripened, answered the northern Convocation in a mild and argumentative letter, probably composed, however, by Cran- mer, in which " he disclaimed all design by fraud to surprise, or by force to captivate, their judgments, but only to convince them of the truth, and the equity of what he desired. He declared the sense of "Supreme Head of the Church," (though ofitnsive in the sound to igno- rant ears) claiming nothing thereby more than what christian princes in the primitive times assumed to themselves in their own dominions, so that it seems he wrought so far on their affections, that at last they consented thereunto." So says that stout Church and King man, Tom Fuller ; but we believe that the King's prerogative, after all, was more effective than his sophistry. If nothing more be meant by the King's supremacy than his right to govern the persons and properties of all his subjects, this had been asserted over and over again by almost every monarch in Europe. Even the royal right to the appointment of Bishops, &c,, to the summoning convocati((ns and synods, and the passing of regulative ordinances f»n' the Cliurch, was not altogether a new claim, though it juiiN risiiKR. 377 Iijul hePM stoutly resisted by the more zealous Cliurcli-iueii. And indeed, lirtwever expedient it may be in a secular point of view, that such power be vested in tbe crown, it is utterly without example in the j)riniitive (church, or even analogy in the Jewish theocracy. It is a moot point whether the Bishops who purchased of Constantine an establisLment for Christiaiuty, and a secular rank for themselves, were not traitors t(» the Church. The (piestion should be argued on grounds of christian ex])ediency. If, however, it be deemed necessary that the Cliinrh possess a fixed j)roperty, and that j)roperty be the foundation of political privileges, it seems inconsistent with public safety, that the civil government should sutler the disposal of such property to j)ass out of its own hands. But Henry, following the precedent of Constantino- politan Emperors, doubtless meant, by assuming the s])iritual su])reniacy ■within his own dominions, to he lord of his subjects' faith as well as of their works, and to disjRise of their creeds as well as of their |;rnperties ; in fact, to be Alleriits orhis Papa, the Pope of his own kingdom. Now of all possible tyrannies, this would have been the w^orst. No need to suppose a succession of Harry the Eigths. Such a power wf)ul(l have been fatal to all ci^il and intellectual freedom, even if possessed by Princes mild, intelligent, and pious as Charles the First. That no toleration would have been admitted or adnn'ssible, that every shade of opinion or mode of adoration that did not accord with the fancy of the reigning monarch would be subject to the penalties of treason ; and, on the other hand, that every effort on behalf of ci\ il liberty would be treated as schism or sacrilege, would not have been the worst conse- quence of the royal and national papacy. There would have been a new creed at least with every reign, jierhaps with every year. The Church would have been impoverished and the clergy ruined by capri- cious changes in garments, which Mould be altered as frequently and as expensively as the uniforms of crack regiments. But worse than all, nobody who wished to be saved in the Church Royal would know \»hat to believe, or how to pray. It is by no means imj)ossible that the immortality (»f the soul might have been al)olislied, or j)urgatory esta- blished by royal proclamation, and royal proclamations Mciuld then Iiavc liad the force of laws. We think, therefore, that the clergy of Y(»rkshire and the other northern provinces acted conniiendably in delaying to transfer their spiritual allegiance ; for as Henry still maintained the doctrines of the Church of Rome, — nay, even burned many for the disbelief of tenets grounded s(tlfly on the aiithority and tradition of that Church — tenets of which he could have no jjroof that did not rest on the infallibilitv of that Church, of which the pap;u-y is the sealing stone. The mere act of 378 JOHN FISHER. separation from tlie Catholic body wns on Henry's part an act of schism^ liowevor jiistitiable in tliose real reformers, who held conscientiously that the Popes had been, and continued to be, corrupters of Christianity, and upholders of corruj)tion. But unfortunately for their own credit, the adherents of the ancient Church attempted to support their failing cause by means the most ill- judged and unjustifiable ; and Bishop Fisher in his old age ])etrayed a degree of credulity, or rather gullibility, which the darkness of the time can hardly excuse. At the same time, we entirely acquit him of any participation in, or connivance at, the fraud. He was one of those good men who think the excellence of faith consists in believing readily and much. He was weak and grey-headed. He saw that Cliurch \vhich he esteemed the kingdom of heaven upon earth, and the Israel of God, in peril of being led away captive ; and thought that if ever power divine displayed itself at time of need, that time was come. Nothing almost sees miracles, But miseries. In the parish of Aldington, in Kent, there lived a young woman, named Elizal»eth Barton, of mean birth and no education, who was subject to that sort of epileptic fits which the ignorance of mankind M'as wont to attribute either to possession or inspiration. When in these trances, she uttered wild incoherent speeches, Avhich sometimes seemed to have relation to the passages of the times. Hereupon Masters, the priest of Adlington, hoping to draw much custom by means of this poor diseased creature, drew up an account of her ravings and prophecyings, and went to the Archbishop Warham, and wi-ought so successfully upon the aged prelate, that he received orders to attend the damsel carefully, and bring tidings of any new trances she might fall into. It is probable that the woman was not from the beginning an impostor; but rather affected with that sort of docile insanity which has proved in past times so serviceable to the cause of priestcraft. When she awoke out of her trances, she was utterly unconscious what she had been saying ; but the crafty ])riest Mould not have the matter to stop so, but persuaded her to believe, or at least to profess herself inspired by the Holy Ghost. He afterwards induced her to counter- feit, or perhaps ^vilfully to produce, renewed trances, and to deal in visions and revelations. The affair at length made a considerable noise, and many came to see her ; and IMasters, in order to raise the reputa- tion of an image of the Virgin that was in a chapel within his parish, by which he might expect to profit largely from the offerings of devo- tees and the con(;ourse of pilgrims, chose for an associate in his impos- ture one Dr. Bocking, a canon of Christ Church, in Canterbury. By JOHN FISHER. 371J these means, tlio Holy INIaid of Kent \ras instructed to say, in licr trances, that the Virgin ^lary had appeared to her in a vision, and revealed that she never shouhl be relieved of her infirmity till she visited the image in (juestion. She aecorilingly went in pilgrimage to the cliapel, M'here, in the midst of a great concourse of people that \iere there assembled, she fell into a trance, poured forth extatic ejaculations, declaring that God had called her to a religicnis life, and appointed Hocking to be her ghostly father. She afterwards jjrcteiided to Ix; recovered of all her distempers by tlie intercession of the \'irgin, took the veil, saw visions, heard heavenly melodies, and passed with great numl>ers for a prophetess ; in Mhich belief it is probable that Arch- bishop Warhain died, luckily for himself, before the imposture wji-s exposed. It does not apjxjar that either the poor crazy woman or her sacer- dotal keej)ers had originally any political designs. But as the divorce of Queen Catherine, and its unforeseen consequence, the ruj)ture with Rome, approximated to a crisis, the prophetic powers of the Holy Maid took a more public turn, and ventured to prophecy destruction to the King himself. It is by no means impossible that the persecu- tions of Catherine really made a deep impression on her disordered imagination : for all women who have ever had a S])ark of goodness, feel that their whole sex is injured when one individual woman is wronged. She might think herself inspired to denounce the wrath of heaven against a tyrant. Slie miglit very easily be persuaded that she had a special dispensation for any measure of pious fraud. But her prompt- ers more probal)ly foresaw that there was but one May to save their Church and their trade, and aimed at nothing less tlian a general revolt against the innovating King. It may be remarked, that the inspirations of the Holy IMaid did not take a treasonable aspect till after the death of Warham, and the promotion of Cranmer to the Primacy; nor were the Protestant inclinations of Anne Boleyn unsus- pected. Dealers in mock-miracle and false pro])hecy seldom display mudi imagination: for it is not to the imagination, or generous ])assioiis, but to the selfish hopes and fears of men, that they address themsehcs. But one of the Holy Maid's fabrications has at least the credit of bold invention. She asserted, tliat when the King was last at Calais, whilst he was at mass, she being invisibly present either in the body or out o. the body, saw an angel snatch the consecrated Host i»ut of his hand, and give it to herself, \vhereu])on she Mas instantaneously conveyed back to her monastery, no person being aMare of her j)resence, absence, or removal. The drift of the story of course m as, that Henry, by plain 380 JOHN FISHER. and infallible tokens, was rejected of God, and ouglit to be deprived of Iiis kinijly dignity. As the tale found ready credence with Catherine's ])arty, and perhaps Avith Catherine herself, the nun or lier directors grew yet bolder, and she ventured to announce, that if the King shoidd persist in putting away his Queen, and take another wife, he Mould not be King seven months longer, but would die the death of a villain. As Bocking and INIasters appear to liave been mere knaves, with little or no mixture of fanaticism, it did not suit their purpose that these denunciations should reach the King's ear till such time as matters were ripe for an explosion. Fisher, who had been at first attracted by the report of the woman's exceeding holiness, easily believed what he wished to be true, and was as easily persuaded to keep all secret. This is little to be M'ondered at ; for his intellect, never of tlie first order, was impaired by superstition, increasing with his years and trou1)les ; and not im])robably, his excessive fastings, watchings, and meditations on the lives of saints and virgins, had prepared him for the contagion of religious madness. But it would be very difficult to account for Sir Thomas ]\Iore's belief, not in the prophecies of the ]\Iaid of Kent, yet in her pretended sanctity. For Morc's eyes, natu- rally acute, had, in his youth, been purged and opened, and always contiiuied open when he did not think it his duty to shut them. But though a lamentable, he was not a solitary, instance of a great man acquiescing in what he conceives salutary prejudices, till he loses the power of distinguishing between truth and falsehood. It is not certain, however, that the maiden ventured upon any express prophecies in the hearing of Sir Thomas ; but we are afraid that Bishoj) Fisher gave into her grossest delusions, and even believed in the authenticity of a letter Avritten in golden characters, and purporting to be the blessed Virgin's autograph, though afterwards confessed to be the handy-\vork of a Canterbury monk called Hankherst. Fisher, however, refi-ained from promulgating the treasonable prophecies ; he only concealed them; but others of the believers were less prudent : in particular, one.Peto, preaching at the palace of Greenwich, was so far emboldened by the maiden's revelations, as to denounce heavy judgments against the King in his own royal presence, telling him, "that many lying pro})hets had deceived him, but he, as a true IMicajah, warned him that the dogs should lick his blood as they had licked Ahab's." Extraordinary imjju- dence sometimes passes with impunity where a less liberty would have been severely visited. No punishment was awarded to Peto ; only a D(x;tf»r was appointed to answer him the next Sunday, Dr. Curwen, such was his name, began his discourse in defence of the King's ])ro- .lOIIN FISHKK. 3!Sl ceedings in a stylo seldom now to lie licani from tlic ])iil|tit, cjilling Peto rel)el, sliinderLT, doj;, traitor, liar, and the like, till a friar, named Elston, arose and told liini, that he was one of the lyinj^ prujiliets, who sought hy a shamefully ; notwithstandiug I might easily suffer that, if they woidd keep my body warm. But my diet also, God knows how slender it is at many times. And now in my age, my stomach will not away but with a few kind of meats, which if I want, I decay forthwith, and fall into erases and diseases of my body, and ciinnot keep myself in health. And as our Lord knoweth, I have nothing left unto me for to provide any better, but as my brother of his own purse layeth out for me, to his own great hinderance. ^V^lcrefore, good master Secretary, eftsoons 1 bcscecli you to have some pity upon me, and let me have such things as are necessary for me in mine age, and especially for my health. And also tliat it may please you, by your high wisdom, to move the King's Highness to t;ike me unto his gracious favour again, and to restore me to my liberty, out of this cold and painful imprisonment. Whereby ye shall bind me to be your poor bedesman for ever unto Almighty God, who ever have you in his protection and custody. Other twain tilings I must desire of you. That I may take some priest with me in the Tower, by the assignment of IMaster Lieutenant, against this holy time. That I may ))orrow some books, to say my devotions more effectually these holy days, for the comfort of my soul. This I beseech you to grant me of your charity. And for this our Lord God send you a merry Christmas and a comfortable to your heart's desire. At tlic Tower, the 22d day of December, your poor bedesman, JOHN ROFF." Thus, to borrow the quaint yet affecting language of Fuller, he " lived in durance, and so was likely t(» continue, till, in all probability, his soul should be freed from two prisons, — I mean that of his body and of the Tower. For his life could do tlie King no hurt, whose death might procure him hatred, as of one generally pitied for his age, honoured for his learning, admired for his holy conversation. Besides, it was not worth the while to take away his life, who was not only vwrtalis, as all men, and mortijicafus, as all good men, but also mori. turns, as all old men, being past seventy-six years of age." But the fame of liis fidelity and sufferings in the cause of his church had reached Rome, wljere Cardinal Farnesc, a very different sort of Pope from the eithcr-sided hesitating Clement, was recently elevated to the Tiara by the title of Paul HI. Had Paul determined of malice prepense to procure for the pa])al cause the honour of F'isher's martyr- dom as a sct-ofi' against the Protestant martyrs, he could scarcely have taken a more effectual method than by l)estowing upon him an unsea- sonable honour, the acceptance of which might l>e construeil into a 388 JOHN FISHER. (k'Haiicc to a Kiiif; wliosc aiia;ci' was death. But as mc arc n(»t aiiionj^ those who hold that every Po])e becomes, ex-officio, an incarnation of the evil principle, we rather believe tliat Paul, in ignorance of the true state of things in England, imagined that a Cardinal's hat would pro- cure for the aged Prelate reverence, liberty, and security. Be it as it might, Fisher Mas created, on the 21st of JMay, 1535, Cardinal Priest of St. Vitalis; most likely without his own knowledge or wish : though it is highly improbable that he ever said, as Fuller reports, — " If the Cardinal's hat ware lying at my feet, I would not stoop to pick it up." He I'evered — nay, adored — his Church too much to speak lightly of her dignities, and was above the hypocrisy of pretending to despise what, if he did not covet, lie religiously esteemed. No sooner did Henry hear of this promotion, than he gave orders that the hat should be stopped at Calais; and sent Cromwell to sift out how far the Bishop was a privy or consenting party to his own elevatifin. After some general conference, no doubt upon religious topics, the artful secretary entered upon liis real business. " My Lord of Roches- ter," says he, " what would you say if the Pope were to send you a Cardinal's liat, would you accept of it ? " Fisher replied, " Sir, I know myself to be so far unMorthy of any such dignity, that I think of nothing less ; but if any such thing should happen, assure yourself that I shoidd improve that favour to the best advantage I could in assisting the Holy Catholic Church of Christ, and in tluit respect I should receive it on my knees." When Cromwell reported this manly avowal to his master, Harry exclaimed, in " right royal rage," — " Ha ! is he yet so lusty ? Then let the Pope send him a hat when he will ; but by God's mother, he shall wear it on his shoulders then, for I will leave him never a head to set it on ! " And thenceforth it was deter- mined to cut off the poor remainder of the old man's days. He must, however, be butchered according to law, and no act of his had hitherto subjected him to capital punishment. What then } The Solicitor General, Rich, was either commissioned, or which is just as likely, volunteered, to trepan him into treason. A convenient statute had not long before passed the two houses of Parliament, and of course received the royal assent, by which it was made high treason " mali- ciously to wish or desire by words or writing, or to imagine, attempt, or invent, any bodily harm to be done to the King, the Queen, or their heirs apparent ; or to deprive any of them of the dignity, style, or NAME OF THEIR ROYAL ESTATES." Now among the dignities and names of the royal estates was that of SupreiMe head of the Church, and "upon this hint " the man of law proceeded. He came with a great face of importance and mytstcry, as if secretly despatched JOHN FISHER, 380 hy the Kiii^, for the ([uictiii^ (if the royal couKcicncc, to consult upon the (luestiou of the suprcniafy. WV-II had it hceu for Fisher had he remembered the words of the Psalmist, " I will keep my toiii^ue as it Mere with a hridle while the uiigoilly is in my sight:" hut he uas a man of infinite sinijdicitv, and perhaps thoujjht that e\en silence on this head was a denial of his Saviour, or at all events a treason against his Saviour's Chin-ch. He therefore answered to this effect: — "As to the business of the suinrmacy, I nuist needs tell his IMajesty, as I have often told him heretofore, and would so tell him if I were to to die tliis present hour, that it is utterly unlawful ; and therefore I would not wish his JMajesty to take any such title or power upon him as he loves his own soul." It was enough. A commission was issued to the Lord Chancellor Audley, JJrandon Duke of Suffolk, Clifford Earl of Cumberland, Thomas Boleyu Earl of Wiltshire, IMr. SecretJU-y Cromwell, and eight of the Judges, to try John Fisher, late Bishoj) of Rochester, for high treason, upon the statute of 2(5th Henry VIH. The charge against him ran, — " That, in the twenty-seventh year of King Henry's reign, he, the said John Fisher, late Bisliop of Rochester, had, in the Tower of London, falsely, maliciously, and traiterously spoken and dindged against his due allegiance, before several of the King's true subjects the following words in English : — That the King our Sovereign Lord is not Supreme Head, on earth, of the Church of England." As Fisher had been jdready deprived of liis episcopal functions for misprison of treason, he was not allowed a trial by his peers, but was tried ))y a conmion IMiddlesex jury * of twelve. The indictment was found on the llth of June, but the poor old man was so sick and infirm, that even the inhumaiuty of that age shrunk from the shame of dragging him before the court. All his books and papers were seized, no doubt with a view to extract evidence fi-om them. On the IJth he was so far recovered as to render it possible to carry liim before the bar of the King's Bench. He wore a plain black cloth g(»wn, without any episcopal vestment. Part of the way he proceeded through the streets on horse-back, but his strength failing, he was {)ut into a boat, and conveyed to Westminster by water. The trial of a doomed man is generally soon over. The jury knew that they were to find him guilty, and they condemned the Bishop * It had been called iu tjuestion whether ««// Uiy your patience sleep an hour or two, for I have slept very ill this night, not for any fear of death, I thank God, but by reason of my great infirmity and weakness.' "'The King's pleasure is farther,' (said the Lieutenant) 'that you shall use as little speech as may be, especially of any thing touching his J\Iajesty, whereby the people should have any cause to think of him or his proceedings otherwise than well.' 'For that,' (said he) 'you shall see me order myself as, by God's grace, neither the King nor any man else shall have occasion to mislike of my words.' With Mhich answer the Lieutenant departed from him, and so the prisoner, falling again to rest, slept soundly two hours and more ; and after he was awaked, called to his man to help him up. But first commanded him to take away his shirt of hair (which customably he wore) and to convey it privily out of the house; and instead thereof, to lay him forth a clean white shirt, and all the best apparel he had, as cleaidv brushed as might be. And, as he Mas arraying himself, his man, seeing in him •Fuller. Church llistoiy of Britain, Hook V. Soctioii -i. Copiod from "JJiiU's (then) MS, Life of Bishop Fisher," afterwards published by Dr. Uaik y. 392 JOHN FISHER. more curiosity .'iiul care for tlie tine and cleanly wearing df his ai)parel tliat day than was wont, demanded of him. What this sudden cliange meant ? saying, That his Lordship knew well enough that he nuist j)ut off all again within two hours, and lose it. 'What of that?' said he, ' dost not thou mark that this is our marriage day, and that it hehoveth us therefore to use more cleanliness for solemnity thereof? ' About nine o'clock the Lieutenant came again, and finding him almost ready, said, ' He was now come for him.' Then said he to his man, ' Reach me my furred tippet to put about my neck.' ' Oh, my Lord ! ' said the Lieutenant, ' what need ye be so careful for your health for this little time, being, as yourself knows, not much above an hour?' 'I tliiid< no otherwise,' said he, 'but yet in the mean time I will keep myself as well as I can. For I tell you truth, though I have, I thank our Lord, a very good desire and willing mind to die at this present, and so trust, of his infinite goodness and mercy he will continue it, yet will I not willingly hinder my health in the mean time one minute of an hour, but still prolong the same, as long as I can, by such reasonable ways and means as Almighty God hath provided for me.' And with that, taking a little book in his hand, which was a New Testament lying by him, he made a cross on his forehead, and went out of his prison door with the Lieutenant, being so weak that he was scant able to go down stairs; whereupon, at the stairs foot, he was taken up in a chair lietween two of the Lieutenant's men, and carried to the Tower gate, with a great number of weapons about him, to be delivered to the Sheriff of London for execution. " And as they were come to the uttermost precinct of the liberties of the Tower, they rested there with him a space, till such time as one was sent before to know in what readiness the Sheriffs were to receive him. During which space lie rose out of his chair, and standing on his feet, leaned his shoulder to the wall, and lifting his eyes towards heaven, he opened a little book in his hand, and said, ' O Lord ! this is the last time that ever I shall open this little book ; let some comfort- able place now chance unto me, whereby I, tliy jjoor servant, may glorify thee in this my last hour.' And with that, looking into the book, the first thing that came to his sight were these words: — Haec est autem vita aeterna ut cognoscmit te solum verum Dcum, et quern misisli Jesum Christum. Ego te glorijicavi super terrain, opus con- summavi quod dedisti mihi, ^c.,* and with that he shut the book * St. John xvii. 3. 4.— And this is life eternal, that they might know thee, the only trae God, and Jesus Chsist whom thou hast sent. I have glorified thee on the earth. I have finished the work which thuu gavest me to do. The Catholics generally quote Scripture in Latin, from the Vulgate. JOHN FISHER. 393 togetlici, and said, 'Here is evoii learning enough for mo to my life's^ end' And so tlie Sherifr being ready f(jr him, he was taken up again among certain of the Slioriff's men, with a new and mueli greater com- patiy of weapons tlian was before, and carried to the scaffold on the Tower-hill, otherwise called Eaat-Smithjield, himself praying all the way, and recording upon the words which he l>cfore ha*l read. " When he was come to the foot of the scaffold, they that carried him oflfered to lielp him up tlie stairs, but said he, * Nay, masters, seeing I am come so far, let me alone and ye sliall sec me shift for myself well enough ; ' and so went up stairs without any help, so lively, that it was a marvel to them that before knew his del)ility and weak- ness. But as he was mounting the stairs, the south-east sun shone very brightly in his face, whereupon he said to himself these words, lifting up his hands: ' Acccdite ad eum, et illuminamini, et fades vestrae non coiifvndentur.* By that time he M-as upon the scaffold, it was alwut ten o'clock ; where the executioner, being ready to do his office, kneeled doAvn to him (as the fashion is), and asked his forgive- ness. ' I forgive thee,' said he, ' with all my heart, and I trust thou shalt see me overcome this storm lustily/ Then were his gown and tippet tidien from him, and he stood in his doublet and hose in sight of all the people, whereof there was no small number assembled to see the execution. " Being upon the scaffold, he spoke to the people in effect as follows : " ' Christian people. I am come hither to die for the faith of Christ's holy Catholic Church, and I thank God, hitherto my stomach hath served me very well thereunto, so that yet I have not feared death ; wherefore I desire you all to help and assist with your prayers, that at the very point and instant of death's stroke, I may in that very moment stand steadfast, without fainting in any one point of the Catholic faith, free from any fear. And I beseech Almighty God, of his infinite goodness, to save tlie King and this realm, and that it may please him to hold his holy hand over it, and send the King a good Council.' " These words he spake with such a cheerful countenance, such a stout and constant courage, and such a reverend gravity, that he appeared to all men, not only void of fccu-, but also glad of death. "After these few words by him uttered, he kneeled down on both his knees, and said certain prayers. Among which (as some reported), ^ one was the hjTim of Te Deum laudamus, to the end; and the psalm hi te Domine speravi. Then came the executioner and btmud a hand- kerchief about his eyes ; and so the Bishop, lifting up his hands and • Draw nigh imto him and be lulightened, and your facis shall not be cast down." 3 i> 394 JOHN FISHER. heart to lioaveu, said a few prayers, whicli were not longj but fervent and devout. Which being ended, he laid his head down over the midst of a little block, where the executioner, being ready with a sharp and heavy axe, cut asunder his slender neck at one blow, which bled so abundantly, that many (saith my author) wondered to see so much blood issue from so lean and slender a body ; though in my judgment, they might rather have translated the rconder fi-om his leanness to his age, it being otherwise a received tradition, that lean folks have the most blood in them. " Thus died John Fisher, in the seventy-seventh year of his age, on the 22(1 of June, being St. Alban's day, the proto-martyr of England, and therefore m ith my author most remarkable. But surely no day in the Romish Calendar is such a skeleton, or so bare of sanctity, but (had his death happened thereon) a priest woidd pick a mystery out of it. He had a lank, long body, full six feet high, toward the end of his life very infirm, insomuch that he used to sit in a chair when he taught the peojjle in his diocese. " His corj)se (if our author speaketh truth) was barbarously abused, no winding sheet being allowed it, which will hardly enter into my belief. For, suppose his friends durst not, his foes would not afford him a shroud, yet some neuters, betwixt both (no doubt), would have done it out of common civility. Besides, seeing the King vouchsafed him the Tower, a noble prison, and beheading, an honourable death, it is improbable he would deny him a necessary equipage for a plain and private burial. Wherefore, when Hall tells us, that 'the soldiers attending his execution could not get spades to make his grave there- with, but were fain with halberds (in the north side of the church of All Hallows, Barldng,) to dig a hole wherein they cast his naked corpse ; ' I listen to the relation as inflamed by the reporter's passion. Be it here rememl)ered, that Fisher, in his life-time, made himself a tomb on the north side of the chapel in St. John's College, intending there to be buried, but was therein disappointed. This Fisher was he who had a Cardinal's hat sent him, which (stopped at Calais) never came on his head ; and a monument made for him, wherein his body was never; deposited. ■ " Our author reportcth also, how Queen Ann Boleyn gave order that his head should be brought unto her (before it was set up on London bridge) that she might please herself at the sight thereof, and like another Herodias,* insult over the head of this John, her professed *The tale is sufficiently confuted by its servile imitation of that of Herodias; though, as he that steals a sheep, even if he forget to obliterate the true master's ■lOHN FISHER. 395 enemy. Nor was she content alone to revile liis ghost with taunting terms, hut out of spite, or sport, or hotli, struck her hand against the mouth of this dead head hnnight unto her; and it happened that one of Fisher's teeth, more prominent than the rest, struck into lier liand, and not only ]>ained her for the present, but made so deep an impres- sion therein, that she carried the mark thereof to tlie grave. It seems this was contrary to the proverb, Mortui non mordent ; but enough, yea too much, of such damnable falsehoods." Thus was a faithful sheplierd of Christ's flock destroyed. IJut he Would not have lived many years longer. His work was done. He. iieither flung away his life madly, nor preserved it basely. He was a ^7lartyr, if not to the truth that is recorded in the authentic lutok of Heaven, yet to that copy of it which he thought authentic, which was written on his heart in the antique characters of authoritative age. Those who think him right, justly hold him a martyr to the Faith ; and we who think him mistaken, must still allow him to have been the martyr of Honesty. Bishop Fisher was a tall and robust man in his youth, but exces- sively emaciated in his later years. He practised fasting and watching even to su])ererog;ition, and was too prone to the opinion, that the reason requires to be mortified as well as tlie body. IMost unjustly Jias he been accused of avarice, whereas he was a wise and liberal econo- mist, desiring his brother Robert, who was his steward, that the revenues of his Bislio])ric might Ikj regularly expended every year, but not exceeded ; and whatever was beyond the frugal provision of liis liousehold went in alms. After his own slender meal (he took but one in the four and twenty hours), he would stand at a window, to see the poor fed at his gate, with a sort of vicarious voluptuousness. He was a man of more acquired learning than natural genius, and is said to have had the best library in England. His works are pretty numerous, but consist entirely of sermons and controversial treatises, mostly against the doctrines of Luther. One of them bears a very uncharitable title, " Pro Damnatione Lutheri." mark, makes a new nick in the ear, that he may claim it for his own ; so the pcrvi-rt- ers and copiers of truth ci-ncrally add some little circumstance, more «)r less cleverly imagined, for a dijfcrciur, as the heralds say, — for instance, the tooth-mark in Anne Boleyu's hand. The wrath of the Catholic writers against poor Anne breaks out in still more improbable accusations than this. Not content to charge her with cruelty, treachery, and incontinence, they make her positively ugly, — blear-eyed, wn,'-necked, sallow-complt'xioned, like Envy personified. Vet these descriptions were printed and published at a time when many persons living must have seen and remembered Anno Boleyn. But writers who intend tlieir works solely for the perusal of some particular sect or party, are never deterred from falsehood by the fear of eoutradietiou. 396 JOHN FISHEK. The following may be regarded as a. tolerably complete list of the Bishop's writings : — 1. A Sermon on Psalm 116, at the funeral of King Henry VII. 2. A Funeral Sermon at the moixeth mind* of Margaret, Countess of Richmond. Printed by Wyukin de Worde, and republished in 1708, by Thomas Baker, DD., with a learned preface. 3. A Commentary on the se\en penitential Psalms. Written at the desire of the Countess of Richmond. Printed at London, 1509, 4to., 1555, 8vo. 4. A Sermon on the Passion of our Saviour. 5. A Sermon concerning the Righteousness of the Pharisees. 6. The Method of arri\ing at the highest Perfection in Religion. These four last were translated into Latin by John Fenne. 7. A Sermon preached at London on the day in which the writings of Martin Luther were pubUcly burnt, on John xv. 26. Cambridge, 1521. Translated into Latin by John Pace. 8. Assertionum Martini Lutheri confutatio. A confutation of Luther's assertions, in forty one articles. 9. Defensio Assertionis Henrici VIII. de septem sacramentis contra Lutheri "Cap- tivitatem Babylonicum." A Defence of Henry VIII. his Apology for the seven Sacra- ments against Luther's " Babylonish Captivity." 10. Epistola reponsoria, Epistolae Lutheri. An Epistle in Answer to Luther. 12. Sacerdotii Defensio contra Lntherum. Defence of the Priesthood against Luther. 13. Pro Damnatione Lutheri. For the condemnation of Luther. 14. De veritate corporis et sanguinis Christi in Eucharistia. Of the real presence of Christ's Body and Blood in the Eucharist. Against Oecolampadius. 15. De Unic4 Magdalen : contra Clichtoveum et Jac Fabrum Scapulensem. That there was only one Mary Magdalen. Did you ever hear of more } 16. Sanctum Petrum Romas fuisse, contra Ulricum Velenum. That St. Peter loas at Rome, against LHric Veleno. 17. Several other small tracts: — On the Benefits of Prayer. The Necessity of Prayer. The Lord's Prayer. A Letter on Christian Charity, t^i Hermolaus Lecta- tius, Dean of Utrecht. A Treatise on Purgatory, &c. Most of the forementioned pieces were published separately in England, and were printed collectively at Wurtzburg, in one volume folio, 1595. Of his book on the King's marriage, printed at Alcala, we have already spoken. There is another tract of Fisher's on the same subject, in the collection of records at the end of Collier's Ecclesiastical His-tory. No doubt these works were many of them composed with intense thought, labour, and learning, after preparation of fervent prayer ; and yet, who is there living that has read a page of any of them, excepting the Lady Margaret's funeral sermon? It is to the cruelty of his Sovereign that Fisher owes his ransom from oblivion. • i. e. Month's mind. The funeral obsequies of the Countess were not performed till a month after her death. Here we see the origin of a proverbial saying, " to have a month's mind to a thing ; " but how the phrase came to be transferred from the monthly anniversary (Hibernicc) of a person's death, to signify a strong desire, we are unable to explain. THE REVEREND WILLIAM MASON. So happy a life as IMasoii's, though exceedingly agreeable to think of, is neither easy to write, nor very entertaining when written. Even when such favoured mortals have chosen, like the excellent Lindley Murray, to be their own biographers, though their reflections and observations are most valuable, their actions exemplary, and their tran- quillity and thankfulness truly edifying, more good people will be found to recommend their work than to peruse it. Yet IMason was not a man to be forgotten. He was the friend and biographer of Gray, and he was the most considerable Poet that Yorkshire has produced since JMarvel. As a man, as a poet, as a politician, and as a divine, he was highly respectable, and he that is thoroughly respectable, and nothing more, has the best possible chance of earthly hapi)iness. A few srove of their offspring In-ing bad poets, or however barren they may think the bays of thcg(M»d ones, they ■will always do wisely to imitate the worthy father of IMason, and let 398 WILLIAM MASON. instinct have its course. To Oppose, is certain to add the curse of diso- hodience to the cahiniities of poetry. In 1742, young ]\Ia.son was entered of St. Jolin's College, Cambridge. His tutor was Dr. Powell, a man of the same liberal sentiments as his father, who, M'hile he directed his pupil to the classic models of anti- (juity, did not dissuade him from cultivating English verse. Mason's scholarship, though elegant and diffusive, was not of that accurate and technical kind, which may strictly be ctilled academical ; but he passed his time happily at Cambridge, with good books and good company, studying rather for delight and ])ublic fame, than for college honours and emoluments. It is too much the habit of tutors, and of those who should give the tone to our Universities, to consider all study which has not a direct reference to the tripos and class-paper, as mere mental dis- sipation : a prejudice which not only turns the young academician into a school-boy, but converts the full grown academicians, who should form the learned class, into common-place schoolmasters. The constant rou- tine of tuition leaves the senior neither time nor spirits for fresh acqui- sitions of knowledge, and in consequence many, many men of high attainments, whose continued residence in their colleges would be highly beneficial both to themselves and to the community, are driven away, from absolute want of genial society and conversation. Few now clioose a college life, but such as are either tutors for subsistence, or decorous loungers and temperate bonvivants ; consequently the Universities have lost a part of their salutary influence on the public mind, and are too sharply opposed to current opinion to modify and moderate it as they ought to do. Such, we fear, is the general case ; but the exceptions are many, honourable, and yearly on the increase ; and there is great hope that, ere long, specimens of every cast and size of intellect may grow and flourish on the peaceful borders of Cam and Isis. Far from the madding crowd's iguoble strife. The youthful character of MavSon, as drawn by his early and constant friend Gray, is at once amiable and amusing. He says, that " he was one of much fancy, little judgment, and a good deal of modesty ; a good well meaning creature, but in simjtlicity a perfect child; he reads little or nothing, writes abiuidance, and that with a design to make a fortune by it; a little vain, but in so harmless a way, that it docs not offend; a little ambitious, but withal so ignorant of the world and its ways, that this does not hurt him in one's opinion ; so sincere and undisguised, that no one with a spark of generosity would ever think of hurting him, he lies so open to injury ; but so indolent, that if he cannot overcome this hal)it, all his good ([ualities will signify nothing at all." Very few of these traits outlasted INIasou's youth, and })erhaps some of them never WIUJAM MASON. 399 existed but in Gray's good natured interpretation. To liave more fancy tlian judgment, to be very modest, and a little (which means not a little) vain, are (jualities common to every young man that is, or is to be, or sincerely wishes to Im", a poet :* and a strij)ling, who came to college direct from his father's ])arsonage, might well be ignorant of the world. But his simplicity and unsuspicion, like his extravagant cxpecttitions, seem to have arisen solely from his ignorance of the « orld, and his indo- lence was probably more than lialf affected out of vanity ; for vain clever men cannot l)ear to be suspected of fagging. INIason took his Batchehtr's degree in 17-15. Probably it was about this time that he composed, or at least began to compose, his INIonody on the death of Pope, wlio died in the preceding year ; Init it did not appear before 1747, when it was published by advice of Dr. Powell. As the work of an author of two and twenty, it is greatly commendable, and contains some really fine lines. But grief, if w^e may judge liy the practice of poets, has a privilege above all other passions, love itself not excepted; a jjlenary indulgence for all sins of nonsense. Elegies, Monodies, and Epicedia, have generally less meaning than any other compositions. IMr. IMason begins thus, in compliaited imitation of the whole tribe of poetic mourners : — Sorrowing I catch the reed, and call the Muse, If yet a muse on Britain's plain abide; Since rapt Musains tuned his parting strain, With him they lived, with him perchance they died: For who e'er since their virgin charms espied, Or on the banks of Thames, or met their train Where Isis sparkles to the sunny ray ? Or have they deign'd to play WHiere Camus winds along his broidered vale, Feeding each blue bell pale, and daisy pied That fling their fragrance round his rushy side. Yet ah, ye are not dead, Celestial Maids, Immortal as ye.are, ye may not die, Nor is it meet ye fly these pensive glades, K'er round his laureate herse ye heave the sigh. Stay then awhile, O stay, ye fleeting fair, ; Revisit yet, nor hallow'd Ilippocrene, Nor Thespia's grove; till with harmonious teen, Ye sooth his shade, and slowlydittied air. * An ingenuous youth will always be modest in proportion as he is vain. For modesty and vanity are only ditlerent pha-nomena of one and the same dispositii>n, viz. an extreme consciousness and apprehensiveness of being observed. In the well- constituted young mind, there is a perpetual struggle between the fear to offend; which is modesty, and thi' desire to iiKum', which is vanit}-. 400 WILLIAM MASON. Such tribute pour'd, again ye may repair To what loved haunt ye whilom did elect; Whether Lyc;Eus, or that mountain fair *Trim Maenalus with piny verdure deck't. But now it boots ye not in these to stray, Or yet Cyllene's hoary shade to choose, Or where mild Ladon's welling waters play. Forego each vain excuse, And haste to Thames's shores; for Thames shall join, Our sad society, and passing mourn, The tears fast trickling o'er his silver urn. And when the Poet's widow'd grot he laves, His reed crown'd locks shall shake, his head shall bow. His tide no more in eddies blith shall rove, But creep soft by with long drawn murmurs slow. For oft the mighty Master rous'd his waves With martial notes, or luU'd with strain of love : He must not now in brisk meanders flow Gamesome, and kiss the sadly-silcnt shore, Without the loan of some poetic woe. Say first, Sicilian Muse, For, with thy sisters, thou didst weeping stand In silent circle at the solemn scene, When Death approach'd, and wav'd his ebon wand, Say how each laurel droopt its with'ring green ? How, in yon grot, each silver trickling spring Wander'd the shelly channels all among; While as the coral roof did softly ring Responsive to their sweetly-doleful song. , b: Meanwhile all pale th' expiring Poet laid, And sunk his awful head, While vocal shadows pleasing dreams prolong; For so, his sick'ning spirits to release. They pour'd the balm of visionary peace. Considered as a specimen of versification these lines have great merit, and prove that IMason liad read and studied the elder English poets diligently and profitably. It was by no means so easy to compose such a copy of verses in 1744 as it would be at present, for the tunes of ancient song liad " left the echo ;" so completely had the Popean couplet (itself, deny it who will, an admirable measure for many and excellent purposes) taken possession of the general ear, that it Avas not without eflfort, and a certain confusion of ideas, that ordinary readers could admit any other system of syllabic arrangement to be verse at all. • Is not trim a strange epithet for a mountain ? We have trim gardens in Milton, properly ; but was the piny verdure of Maenalus wrought into topiary works, or regu- larly clipped by " old Adam's likeness?" WILLIAM MASON. 401 At present the turns and plirasivs of tlu' Italian school are rather mure familiar than those of the Frendi, and a man mij^lit compose a very tolerable cento, witliout ever lookin;; at a jtoct at all, mit ot ma^a/me articles and familiar letters. There is some little originality in the plan of IMuson's I\Iusa;us. Instead <»f heathen Gods, or rivers, or abstract qualities in masijuerade, Pope, or Musajus, in the trance preceding liis departure, is visited by the " vocal shadows" of Chaucer, Spenser, and iVIilton, each of whom confesses his own inferiority to the dying Swan, with no small extrava- gance. A'ocal shadows ought not to Hatter. It would seem that these spirits of poets past came to convince ]\Ir. Pope that lie would have as little occasion for plain speaking in the world lie was going to as in that he was leaving. Spenser is not haj)- pily characterized as " the blitliest lad that ever piped on plain," for the prevailing hue of his poesy is melancholy tenderness. His " Faerie (}ueen" is the recjuiem of chivalry ; a cenotaph of stainless marble, into which he invokes the shades of virtues that never liveears, />/v>^);/(f persona, to thank him in heroic coui)lets for his mighty services. ;i K 402 WILLIAM MASON. We have said more perliaps than necessary about tliis tuneful trifle, botli because it Mas Mason's maiden poem, and tlierefore a mark Mliereby the progress of his mind may be computed, and because it really shew s how nearly a young man may come to be a poet by mere dint of loving poetry, and indefatigably striving to attain it. Such was the fashion of celebrating departed excellence in the early part of the eighteenth century. A great spirit is just departed from among us, and when the seemly silence of a recent grief may fitly be broken, some sad and solemn strains, not unmingled with deep and joyfid hope. Mill haply break from the poets that survive ; but let there be no pastoral, no allegory, no heathenism : let us at least talk sense beside the grave. Tliere is no man of twenty now living who could write half so well as IMason, that ivoidd not write much better on such an occasion. So much has been done in the last fifty years to reconcile poetry with reason. IMason did something himself, and even his jMusajus is an improvement on the then established models.* In 1747> IMason was chosen Fellow of Pembroke College, chiefly by the recommendation of Gray, who had removed thither from Peter- house, whence he was driven by the noise and practical jokes of a set of young bloods, who thought his timidity and old-maidenly preciseness fair ffame. We wonder at such irreverend treatment of the author of the Elegy, yet it is not unlikely that Shakespeare was sometimes hissed and pelted on the stage. IMason, however, was not allowed to take possession of his fellowship without some difficulty, of which he himself spoke thus : — " I have had the honour, since I came here last, to be elected bv the Fellows of Pembroke into their society ; but the Master, ♦The "melodious tears" of our "Augustan age" are pleasantly ridiculed by Steel in that uuinber of the Guardian which led to the quarrel between Pope and Phillips. "In looking over some English pastorals a few days ago, I perused at least fifty lean flocks, and reckoned up a hundred left-handed ravens, besides blasted oaks, withering meadows, and weeping deities. Indeed, most of the occasional pastorals we have are built upon one and the same plan. A shepherd asks his fellow ' Why he is so pale? if his favourite sheep hath strayed? if his pipe be broken? or Phyllis unkind ? ' He answers, ' None of these misfortunes have befallen him, but one much greater, for Damon (or perhaps the god Pan) is dead.' This immediately causes the other to make complaints, and call upon the lofty pines and silver streams to join in the lamentation. While he goes on, his friend interrupts him, and tells him that Damon lives, and shews him a track of light in the skies to confirm it ; then invites him to chestnuts and cheese. Upon this scheme most of the noble families in Great Britain have been comforted, nor can I meet with any right honourable shepherd that doth not die and live again, after the manner of the aforesaid Damon."- -6'((rtr(/«/«, A'o. 30. 1713. WILLIAM MASON. 403 wlio has the power of ;i negative, had made use of it on this occasion, because he will not have an extraneus when they have fit persons in their own college. The Fellows say they have a power from their statutes, indifferenler eligere ex ulraque aciulemia, and are going to try it with him at connnon law, or else get the King to appoint a visitor. If this turns out well, it will he a very lucky thing for me, and much hetter than a Piatt, which I came hither uith an intention to sit for: for they are reckoned the best Fellowships in the Univer- sity." Whether tlie JMaster and Fellows of Pembroke did proceed to extremities or no, is matter of little conseipience ; but JMason was declared duly elected, after two years' suspense, in 17-19, in wliich year also he took his IMastor's degree. It is possible that the IMastcr of Pembroke might dislike IMason both for his poetry and for his politics. As to the former, sage gentlemen in office generally regard it as coldly as the great Lord Burleigh, and the philos(»phical Locke, who, in his tract on education, warns all young men against associating with poets, as being commonly found in company M'itli gamesters. In pfditics, IMason was a Whig, perhaps more from a scholastic adnjiration of the antique republics, than from any experimental knowledge of the wants and capacities of English society. Of this lie gave proof in Iiis " Isis," a metrical attack upon the Jacobitism of Oxford, which had the honour of rousing Tom Warton to a reply, properly named the " Tri- umph of Isis," since IMason himself confessed it to be the better poem of the two. Neither of them won nnuh glory in the contest ; but the heart certainly goes along \vith Warton, who loved his Alma Mater for her venerable cloisters, her ancient trees, her shady walks, her cloudy traditions, her precious libraries, her potent loyalty, and mighty ale , and wrote in her defence Mith a generous anger too sincere to be thoroughly poetical. Why do the Universities ever meddle with factious politics } In their corporate capacity they should never allude to any event later than the restoration. That was their triumph — the reward of their loyal sufferings, the resuscitation of the church. They ought to take it for granted, that all has gone on well since ; as the happy couple (»f the fifth act, or third volume, are conceived to be still living happily — keeping their honey-moon to the end of time. Warton and IMasftn never liked one another, which has been attri- buted by some to their poetical rivalry, and by others to the difiVrence of their politics. But may it not more rationally and less discn'(lital»lv be ascribed to the contrariety of their habits, and the antipathy of their tempers ? IMason was a correct, precise, clerical gentleman, as much attached to the decorums of life, as to those of the drama ! b\- 404 WILLIAM MASON. iKi means incapable of quiet sarcasm, but mucli above tlie vulgarity of a joke : — the vanity which Gray could smile at in his boyhood, sobered down into a prudent self-appreciation, that taught liim to fiu-below a good deal of true dignity and self possession with a little of what, in the other sex, would be called prudery. Warton was a good-natured sloven, somewhat given to ale and tobacco, and not very select either as to the company he drank and smoked with, or the jests with whicli he set the table in a roar. It is recorded (and the tale would not have been invented if it had not been characteristic) that Tom Warton was once missing, when in his capacity of public orator, or poetry professor, we are not sure which, he had to compose a Latin speech for some public occasion. To save the trouble of going the round of his haunts, a happy thought occurred, that he never could, whatever he was engaged in, forbear following a drum and fife. A drum and fife therefore were directed to proceed with their spirit-stirring music along the streets of Oxford, and ere long, from a low-browed hostel, distinguished by a swinging board, the Professor issued, with cutty })ipe in mouth, greasy gown, and dirty band, and began strutting after the martial music, to the tune of "give the King his own again." The anecdote is probaldy fabulous, but it would never have been told of INIason. The difference of the men appears in the fact, that Warton was always Tom, while Mason was never Billy. The natural consecjuence of this discrepancy of manners would be, that neither could feel himself at ease in the other's society. Mason would suspect that his dignity was violated by the very negligence of Warton's dress, and Warton would be annoyed with the propriety of JMason's behaviour. He used to describe him as a " buckram man." The "Isis" appeared in 1748, and does not seem to have offended the Cantabs in general, for in the next year our author Avas requested to compose an ode for the installation of the Duke of Newcastle as Chancellor of the University of Cambridge. Gray thought the ode " uncommonly well for such an occasion," a praise not to be acceded to his own ode on the installation of the Duke of Grafton, which is a great deal too good for the occasion. But IMason was so little pleased either with liis subject, or his treatment of it, that he had no pleasure in recollection of the task, and omitted it in his works.* ♦ If this omission was meant to cast a slight upon the Duke or his memory, it was a littleness unworthy of a poet, and at all events, it was disrespectful to the University which had approved, and to the many noble Lords and learned Doctors (not to mention Ladies) who had listened to it with patience, and rewarded it with applause. But the Duke of Newcastle was not the Chancellor which Cambridge would have freely chosen. He was neither remarkable for literary attainment in himself, nor for WILLIAM MASON. 405 Tlinu^jh so little ca^^or to record liis academieiil distinctions, lie ever retained a grateful and affectionate renienilnance of Cambridge, which he tcstiHed in an ode addressed to his liberal tut<»r, Dr. Powell. The two or three years ensiling his admission to his Fellowshij) he spent between town and college, frequenting such sot'iety in each as M'crc distinguished for their devotion to the fine arts and fine literature, contiinially exercising himself in composition, but so far from expecting to make a fortune by his poetry, that, according to his own assertion, he would have been happy if the profits of his pen procured him the purchase of an opera or concert ticket. Yet he had his ambition, — an patronage of literature. His only claim, besides his rank, was his ministerial office, and his Hanovmiaa zeal ; and Cambridge, in fixing upon him to support her highest hoiwrarj- dignity, only meant to prove her readiness to oblige the administration in everything, and to testify her abhorrence of the imputed disaffection of Oxford, whose loyalty was supposed to be " far over sea." Oxford had been ver>- severely treated lately; for two or three fresh men who had drunk the Pretender'' s health when they had better have drunk no more, instead of being left to the college discipline, had been taken into custody by a messenger of state, " and two of them being tried in the Court of King's Bench, and being found guilty, were condemned to walk through the courts of Westminster with a specification of theii- crime fixed to their foreheads ; to pay a fine of five nobles each ; to be imprisoned for two years, and find security for theii- good behaviour for the term of seven years after their enlargement" The cry of Jacobitism was loudly trumpeted against the whole communitj' of Oxford. The address of the University to congratulate his ilajesty upon the peace of Aix la Cha- pelle was contemptuously rejected ; aad a proposal similar to that made some two and thirty years before (vide Life of Bentley, p. 242), to subject their statutes to the inspection of the King's Council, was unwillingly relinquished, in deference to the opinions of the Court of King's Bench. Cambridge, meanwhile, had crept into favour with the ministrj', and to make the most of that inestimable advantage, resolved to fill the vacancy occasioned by the death of the " proud Duke," (whose political conduct was such as gave him a right to be proud) in the most prudential manner. " The nation, in general," says Smollett, " seemed to think it would natu- rally devolve upon the Prince of Wales, as a compliment at all times due to that rank ; but more especially to the then heir apparent, who had eminently distinguished himself by the virtues of a patriot and a prince. He had even pleased himself with the hope of receiving this mark of attachment from a seminary for which he enter- tained a particular regard. But the ruling members, seeing no immediate prospect of advantage in glorifying even a Prince, who was at variance with tlie ministr)-, wisely turned their eyes upon the illusuious character of the Duke of Newcastle, whom they elected without opposition, and installed with great magnificence ; learn- ing, poetry, and eloquence joining their ert'orts in celebrating the shining virtues and extraordinary- talents of their new patron." The conduct of the University on this occasion deserves no breath of censure. Where no interest but one's own is concerned, to be disinterested is a cr}ing absurdity. As a body, the academicians were in duty bound to elect the most efiicient protector: as individuals, they did right in choosing the most powerful patron. 406 WILLIAM MASON. ambition to reconcile the college and the town — to be at once the poet of the common-room and the green-room ; in short, to mediate between John Bull and Aristotle ; to produce an acting play on the ancient plan ; such a play as Sophocles or Euripides would produce if they were now in being. The result was his Elfrida, published in 1752. Elfrida is very, very far from a contemptible piece of workmanship : it is manifestly the production of a scholar and a gentleman, of an ardent lover of poetrj', and platonic inamorato of abstract virtue : but impos- sible as it is to approve our conjecture by experiment, we do shrewdly suspect that it is nothing like what Sophocles or Euripides would have written had they risen from the dead in the plenitude, or, if you will, with only a tithe, of their powers, and an inspired mastery of the English language,* to exhibit to the eighteenth century the marvel of a modern ancient drama. For his deviation from the exact model of the Athenian stage, he thus apologizes in a letter to a friend, prefixed to the first edition of his Elfrida.t " Had I intended to give an exact copy of the ancient drama, your objections to the present poem would be unanswerable." (What objections does not appear, but may easily be guessed.) " I only meant to pursue the ancient method so far as it is probable a Greek poet. Mere he alive, would now do, in order to adapt himself to the genius of our times, and the character of our * It would not have taken Euripides many months to acquire a style quite as English as Mason's. Mason cautiously avoided everything like English idioms in his serious works, and for the most part uses words, where he uses them correctly, in the most definable meaning. He has none of those chromatic shades and associations of sense which render a writer untranslateable. His Caractacus has been translated both into Greek and Italian, and I dare say lost not a drop in the transfusion. f We do not exactly know who first introduced the practice of Poets criticising their own works, and anticipating objections in prologues, prefaces, letters to friends, &c. It does not appear to have been familiar to the Greeks, unless the Parabasis of the old comedy, wherein the poet addressed the audience through the chorus, may be supposed to have set the example. Terence, in his prologues, sometimes depre- cates the anger of critics ; and Martial occasionally apologizes for his epigrams, and tells you what you have to expect, — a practice followed, if not imitated, by Chaucer, in the prologue to his "Miller's Tale." But the earliest example we remember in English (we by no means assert that it is the first) of an author formally pleading his own case in prose, is in the epistle dedicatory to Davenant's Gondibert. Dryden followed the fashion obliquely or directly in his various delightful prefaces. Sir Walter Scott (eheu !) has very ingeniously contradicted whatever cavils his tales might seem exposed to, in his introductory dialogues, epistles, and narratives. But Mr. Moore has in this sort outdone all competition ; for what can be said against " Lalla Rook," which Fadladeuu has not uttered with the keenness and brilliance of a diamond ! WILLIAM MASON. 407 trafj^ody. Accordinc^ to this notion, every thinr^ was to be allowed to the present taste wiiieli nature and Aristotle (•(tiild possilily dispense with ; and nothinir of intrij^ue (»r reJinenient admitted at \\ hich ancient judjjnient could reasonalily take offence. Good sense, as well as anti- <|uity, prescribed an adherence to the three great unities ; these, there- fore, were strictly observed. But, on the other hand, to follow the modern masters in those respects in which they had not so faultily deviated from their ])redecessors, a story was chosen in which the tender rather than the nol)le passions were j)redominant, and in which even love had the principal share. Characters, too, were drawn as nearly approaching to private ones as tragic dignity would permit, and affections raised more from the impulse of common humanity, than the distresses of royalty and the fate of kingdoms. Besides this, for the sake of natural embellishment, and to reconcile mere modern readers to that simplicity of fable in which I thought it necessary to copy the ancients, I contrived to lay the scene in an old romantic forest. For by this means I was enabled to enliven the poem by various touches of pastoral description ; not affectedly Ijrought in from the storehouse of a picturesque imagination, but necessarily resulting from the scenery of the place itself, — a beauty so extremely striking in the 'Comus' of ]Milton, and the ' As you like it ' of Shakespeare ; and of which the Greek JMuse (though fond of rural imagery) has affordeil hw examples l)esides that admirable one in the Philoctetes of Soplnx^les. By this idea I coidd wish you to regulate your criticism. I need not, I think, observe to you, that these deviations from the practice of the ancients may be reasonably defended. For we are long since agreed, that where love does not degenerate into episodical * gallantry, but makes the foundation of the distress, it is, from the luiiversality of its intiuence, a jiassion very proj)er for tragedy. And I have seen you too much moved at the rejiresentation of some of oiu* best tragedies of private story, to believe you will condemn me for making the other deviation." * I ouce thought that Lord Byron's " Man's love is of his life a thing apart: 'Tis woman's whole existence," — might have been suggested by this expression of Mason, but I am told the noble author was indebted to xMadame de Stael. 'rhoujjh " episodical gallantly " be not an nnexception.able phra^^e, the observation and the distinction is more just than any thing else in the letter. Love, at least in the drama, should never be introduced as an accessory. It should be the leading passion and source of interest, or it should be excluded as carefully from a tragedy as from a boarding school. What can be more miserably out of keeping tlian the love scenes in Addison's " Cato," unless it be the underhand courtship of Edgar and Cordelim foisted by Nahuin Tate into King Lear? 40B WILLIAM MASON. We cannot forbear thinking that Mason had formeil his idea of the Greek stage, more from the French critics and imitators, than from the Greek originals. That liis acquaintance with Aristotle was drawn through the Gallic filter, may be regarded as certain. He talks of Sophocles, but he is thinking of Racine. He refers to Aristotle, but lie relies on Boileau, Bossu, and Dacier. How thoroughly his taste liad been gallicised, is proved by his eagerness, in his second auto- critical epistle, to quote the censure of Voltaire upon Shakespeare, and to dwell delighted upon the sobriety and chastity of Racine's Melpo- mene. Speaking of the common objections to the ancient form of drama, he says : — " The universal veneration which we pay to the name of Shakespeare, at the same time that it has improved our relish for the higher beauties of poetry, has undoubtedly been the ground-work of all this false criticism. That disregard which, in compliance merely M ith the taste of the times, he shewed of all the necessary rules of the drama, hath since been considered as a characteristic of his vast and original genius; and consequently set up as a model for succeeding writers. Hence M. Voltaire remarks very justly, " Que le merite de cet autem- a perdu le theatre Anglois. Le terns, qui seul fait la repu- tation des hommes, rend a la fin leurs defauts respectables.' * " Yet notwithstanding the absurdity of this low superstition, the notion is so popular among Englishmen, that I fear it will never be entirely discredited, till a poet rises up among us with a genius as daring and elevated as Shakespeare's, and a judgment as chastised and sober as Racine's." If Mason had simply asserted his right to introduce a new form of Drama, occvipying a middle point between Shakespeare and Euripides, and protested against the " low superstition " (if any such existed) of * " The merit of this author has ruined the English theatre. Time, which solely raises the reputation of men, at last makes their defects venerable." Voltaire had too s^reat an intellect not to perceive the mightiness of Shakespeare, — too much sense to deny it, — and not lieart enough to acknowledge it. Vanity was his ruling principle, but not that happy vanity which makes a man's own imaginary merit his horizon, beyond which he can see nor conceive nothing. He was keenly alive to superior excellence : he both saw and hated. His aversion to Christianity arose from wounded pride: he could not brook a truth and a power above him which he had nothing to do in discovering. If he had really thought Christ an impostor, he would have praised him as he has done Mahomet. In just the same spirit he sets Ariosto above Homer, and animadverts on the perverseness of the English, who continued to worship Shakespeare when their language could boast of a Cato. He knew well enough that he could make a better tragedy than Cato at a week's notice : while to move in the orb of Shakespeare, he must have undergone a change in the inner man. « WILLIAM MASON. 4(H> coiulemiiiii^ :ill |»lay« in w lii( li the Unities wore oliscrved, l)ec.'msc Sliak- spoaro lias sncceedt'd jflMi-joiisly \vitli<»iit tliem, lie would have dniio well. The more shapes and moulds jxieti y is east iiitetter; and the more these moulds are varied, provided that each contain a prin- ciple of unity, a law of proportion in itself, the greater the gain. And it is certain that no dramatist will ever win a place, we say not at the side, but at the feet, either (»f Shakspeare or of the Athenian trio, who does not differ widely from each and all of those his great prede- cessors. Sweet is Shakspeare's praise to all that know antl love him ; but we would rather never hear his name mentioned, for good or evil, than have it muttered like a malignant spell, to stop the current of another's fame, or seal up the springs of hope and enterprise. We hate to liear Shakspeare jiraised by odious comparisons with Racine, or Schiller, or Goethe. Who blames the lily for not being a rose.^ But IMason has fallen into an error in which far greater men than he liave both preceded and followed him. Milton was not content to write blank verse, but he must decry rhyme ; and INlason could not invite the public to be pleased with liis endeavours, without trying to convince that unconvincible aggregate, that it ought not to have been pleased M'ith its old favourites, and thus created an unnecessary prejudice against his own experiment. Even supposing a popular taste to be vicious, it can only be cured by calling into action a higher power, and exciting a sense of j)urer pleasure. This a writer may do by his works, but he will never do it by his arguments. You may argue a man or a people out of tlieir admiration, out of their respect, out of their fear, out of their creed, but never out of their pleasure, faith, or love. " To count all former gain as loss," is a sacrilice which only Religion has a right to demand : for in poetry, if not in politics, it is easy to innovate without destroying. There is ground enough on Parnassus " to let upon a building lease," without razing either the ancient castles or the new crescents : no occasion even to disturb the temporary booths and bazaars till the fair is over. There Mas nothing very new in IMason's attempt, either as regarded the unity, or more proj)erly speaking, the unbroken continuity of action, or the introduction of the chorus. The jilays of Rolx'rt Garnier, and other early French dramatists, make at least a pretence of adhering t(t the ancient models ; and the dramas of Lord Brook, of the Earl of Stir- ling, and of Daniel, had moralizing choruses. Vet he speaks as if IMilton's Samson Agonistes m as the only English poem constructed according to anticpie regularity ; and this, he contends, runs to an extreme of austerity, arising from the author's JHst contempt of his 3 K 410 WILLIAM MASON. conteiiiporarics, whom he would not condescend to amuse or instruct. (IMilton would never liave condescended to amuse any age, and to instruct was not liis vocation : his oHice m as to exalt and purify : but tliis was no rule for Mr. IMason.) " He had before given to his umvor- tJty countrymen the noblest poem that genius, conducted by ancient art, could ])roduce, and he had seen them receive it with disregard, perhaps with dislike Conscious therefore of his own dignity, and of tlieir demerit, he looked to posterity only for liis reward, and to pos- terity only directed his future labours. Hence it was, perhaps, that lie formed his Samson Agonistp:s on a model more severe and sim- ple than Athens herself would have demanded ; and took ^schylus for his master rather than Sophocles or Euripides ; intending by this con- duct to put as great a distance as possible between himself and his contemporary writers ; and to make his Avork (as he himself said) much different from what passed amongst them for the best. The success of the ])oeni was accordingly what one would have expected. The age it appeared in treated it with total neglect ; neither hath that posterity to which he appealed, and which has done justice to most of his other writings, as yet given to this excellent piece its full measure of popular and universal fame. Perhaps in your closet, and that of a few more, M'ho unaffectedly admire genuine nature, and ancient simplicity, the Agonistes may hold a distinguished rank. Yet surely we cannot say (in Handet's phrase) ' that it pleases the million : it is still caviar to the general.'* " Hence, I think, we may conclude, that unless one would be content with a very late and very learned posterity, Milton's conduct in this point should not be followed. A writer of Tragedy must certainly adapt himself more to the public taste ; becatise the dramatic, of all i)oems, ought to be most generally relished and understood. The lyric Muse addresses lierself to the imagination of a reader; the didactic to his judgment; biit the tragic strikes directly on his passions. Few men have a strength of imagination capable of pursuing the flights of Pindar ; many have not a clearness of apprehension suited to the reason- ings of Lucretius and Pope. But every man has passions to ))e excited ; and every man feels them excited by Shakspcare. " But though Tragedy be thus chiefly directed to the heart, it must be observed that it will seldom attain its end, without the concurrent api)ro))ation of the judgment. And to procure this, the artificial con- * Hamlet's phrase would have served Mr. Mason's purpose hetter if fit had quoted correctlv. It is, i" "'"' Shakspcare, "The play, I remember, pleased not the million, it was Caviare to the (/eneral." Whence wc may dtducc the important fact, that the immortal bard was himself fond of Caviare. WILLIAM MAWON. Ill structioii f»f till' Fable j^'ocs a ^'reat \ray. In France, the excellence (if their several jioets is cliieHy measured l»y this standard. And anioiifrst our own writers, if you except Shakspeare, (who indeed ou^dit, for his <»ther virtues, to l)o exempt from common rules,) you will find that the most regular of their compositions are generally reckoned their chef d'oeuvrc, witness tlie All for Love of Dryden, the Venice Prcservc It is needless to say that Samson Agonistes would not have been any more popular in Greece than in England, or that it is formed on a model more simple than Athens herself would have demanded. Athens did not demand severe and simple models. The Athenians, in the infancy of their stage, were satis/ied with I)ald and naked representations of mythological stories, which carried the weight of religious association along with them; but it was only till they were accustomed to livelier excitements, more intricate plots, more compli- cated and contrasted passions, and more splendid decorations. To suppose that IMilton was aimoyed or disappointed at the rece])tion of Paradise Lost, is to do him gross injustice. He never expected that it would have a minon course of things. Rancour and bitterness make no friends, " they love not poison that do poison need," aud of the high abstract princi- ples, the soaring speculations upon the possibilities of human nature, that justified Milton to himself, how few were apprehensive or participant? The party to which he belonged (if he could be said to belong to any party at all) were the very smallest fragment into which society was broken. A few classical republicans there might be, like Marvell, that understood and reverenced him, but they never were, and never can be many. The great mass of the nonconformists, both in religion and politics, were either too ignorant to appreciate a learned poem, or of too rigid minds to yield to imaginative impulses, or too constantly whirling in the vortex of faction, to give ear to a strain, which above all luiinspired works, demands a Sabbath mind. The Learned are never a very large class. They might be free from the superstitions and preju- dices of the ^•nlgar and of the unlearned religionists; but they have little curiosity about the works of their contemporaries. If they read a modern book at all, it is for mere amusement, or to discover imitations, or to speculate on the decline of genius. No doubt there are exceptions, and among them many of the first purchasers of Para- dise Lost were to be found. As to the Town and the counti-j' gentlemen, it would be waste of words to shew how little they could see in such a poem, and how glad they would be of any critical opinit)n which assured them it was not worth reading. AVho then, it may be asked, were the readers or the buyers of Paradise Lost? They were the small number of Milton's friends, and the liberal lovers of tnie poetry, who are vinni/, though not the many : ycAmg men, eager to admire, who found a new power created within them by the influences of that " mighty orb of song," and old men, that felt their youth restored in all its energj', but with none of its turbulence, by tliat divinest harmony, Of man, and angels, and the awful choir Of angels fallen, that yet remember Heaven, And the low bellowings of the nether void Melting at last to penitential peace And holy silence. We are told how many editions Cowley went through. No wonder. CowKy w;i,s tlie cavalier jjoet, just as iiuuh as Tom Moore is the Wiiig pott. Every loyal man, that bought books at all, bouglit CiowUy. llu n lu was tlu best writer of his school, 414 VVILI.IAM MASON. of tliat time are considered, we hesitate not to declare that it was notliiiii; less than extraordinary. That amid so'nmrh ])olitical con- fusion, so much and manifold fanaticism, such general poverty of the nation, and such dissoluteness of the literary class, there should yet have remained so many strong, })ure, and powerful minds to approve a Paradise Lost, is an honourahle recollection for England and for human nature. There is no instance of merit of so high an order making so great a way, not only without adventitious aid, but against every conceivable obstacle. " Fit audience may I find, though few," was the aspiration of the blind bard ; and can it be dreamed, that having obtained all that he asked, and more, lie indulged a vain chagrin, and debased his noble thoughts with the pettish pride of fnortified vanity ? Impossible ! Neither did he think of appealing to posterity from con- temporary injustice. He wrote no more for posterity than for his own age; but for the wisest and best of all generations, present and to come : — for men whose imagination is an active power, to whom jn-o- found and prolonged thought is a " labour of love ; " who can find strength and freedom in a rigid self-controul, a beauty in all truth, and a moral truth in all beauty. From the latter part of this epistle, it is obvious that Mason, though he aflFects to disclaim it, did write his Elfrida with a wish, at least, that it might be represented ; for there is no possible reason why a poem in dialogue, interspersed with lyrics, having a beginning, middle, and end, if written for the closet, should be more obsequious to public taste than any other species of poetic composition. A dramatist, if he has no eye to the eclat and the profits of the play-house, may form his plot according to his own fancy, and say, "Fit audience let me find, though few." Albeit, no manager Avould ever respond Amen. Tragedy, considered as a poem, does not strike nun-c directly at the passions than ode, or elegy, or ])oetic narrative. Like all other poetry that is worthy of the name, it addresses the passions chiefly thrcnigh the meditun of the imagination ; seldom, if ever, without calling either the imagination which was the fashionable school, and in spite of all his conceits, there is a vein of good-hearted common sense and shrewd observation, which must have endeared him to those (a very numerous class) who like to see their own thoughts cleverly expressed and curiously illustrated. In this respect he was the forerunner of Pope; but his morality was much better than Pope's, and there was not a spark of ill nature about him. He is among the most amiable of poets. We stare indeed to hear him called sublime ; but it was by those who thought sublimity to consist in novel juxtaposition of thoughts, and feats of intellectual agility. Southey says, the metaphysical school spoiled a great poet in Cowley. This we doubt. We do not think he could have been greater than he is, and as he is wc arc very well content with him. But what au inordinate note \ WILLIAM MASON. 41o or tlio tliinkiiiir faculty into i>lay. To address tlie passions directly and nierely, is to decliiR' farther and worse from the just measures of ancient art, than to annihilate time and space — overleap years, mount- ains and seas — twist lialf a dozen plots together like the plies of a cable, and keep tlu-ni all agoing like the Indian jugglers' halls — hieiid comedy, tragedy, farce, ])ast(»ral, and l)allet together — fill the stage witli horses, elephants, and dromedaries — kill off your dramatis per- soiM- till the scene is choked with CHrcases, and the living are not eiM)Ugh to shove aside the dead — or commit any other modern enor- mity against the Unities, the legitimate dranui, Aristotle, ami common sense. There are three more of those letters, but we have quoted enough to shew the critical calibre of ]\Iason's mind. The other letters are taken up u ith a defence of the chorus, in Mhich he displays neither learning nor philosophy. He does not seem to remember (for he could scarcely he ignorant) that the chorus was not introduced into the drama by Greek judgment, but that the drama, i. e. the dialogue and action, was superinduced upon the cJiorus, which kept its place more by prescrip- tion than reason, becoming of less and less importance in the hands of every successive dramatist, till at lengtli the choral odes came to liave little or no connection with the subject of the play, and were even transferred, like the songs of our operas, from one play to another. The idea of making the chorus a running connuentary on the piece, was of late origin. In the earliest and best tragedians, the chorus is always an active (;haracter, and its j)resence as well accounted for as circumstances admit. To employ it simply to fill up the intervals of time, to relieve attention without Mithdrawing it, to afF(»rd the actors an (»pportunity of loosening their buskins, shifting their robes, changing their mas(pies,t and clearing their voices, was an afterthought. ' A * Oil the Athenian stage, one actor had frecjnently to represent several parts in the same piece, as we see done in scanty itinerant companies, where an exchange of wigs ofTten effects a change of characters. Not more than four actors were generally engaged, exclusive of the chorus. •}• " The chonis should be considered as one of the persons in the drama, should be a part of the whole, and a sharer in the action : not as in Euripides, but as in Sopho- cles. As for other poets, their choral songs have no more connectitin witli their subject than with that of any other tragedy; and hence they are now become detatehed pieces, inserted at pleasure; a practice Hrst introduced by Agatho." — Twini>i(/'s Arislotle's J'octica, Part 11., xcclioii ^21, pci(/e liJH. "It is curious to ti'ace the gradual extinction of the chorus. At first, it was all; then relieved by the intermixture of dialogue, but still principal ; then subordinate to the dialogue; then digressive, and ill-connected with the piece; tlien borrowed from other pieces at pletusure; and so on to the fiddles and act-tunes, at which Dacier is so 416 WILLIAM MASON. noble use the great Athenians doubtless made of the chorus ; yet it cannot be denied, that the drama is more completely dramatic, and so far, more simple and perfect without it. Of the difficulty of amalga- mating the lyric and dramatic portions of a play, we need look for no further proof than appears in the gradual disconnection of the chorus and dialogue among the Greeks themselves. Mason's partiality for this portion of the antique arose from a secret consciousness of his own strength and his own weakness. For dramatic composition, he had neither genius nor skill : his conceptions of character were vague, he had little pathos, nor could he even distribute his speeches in such a manner as to bear the smallest resemblance to actual conversation. But he had considerable powers of description, personification, and amplification, and he delighted in moral common places, which he certainly utters with much dignity, and an air of great earnestness. The model which he would have best succeeded in imitating was " Comus." He had the good sense to perceive that no excellence of individual parts can atone for a want of imity in the whole : but he was not able to see of himself (and there was nobody then to shew him) angry. The performers in the orchestra of a modern theatre are little, I believe, aware, that they occupy the place, and may consider themselves as the lineal descend- ants of, the ancient chorus. Orchestra was the name of that part of the ancient theati-e which was appropriated to the chorus." {Twininfs note on the passage.) \ye know not any prose translation of any classic worthy to be compared with Twining's "Poetics," for elegance, correctness, and pure Anglicism. The notes are a treasure of classical information ; and the two preliminary dissertations (" On Poetry, considered as an imitative art," and " On the tvord Iiniialive, as applied to Music.") are among the earliest specimens of philosophical criticism. Twining understood his author well, and has shown clearly how grossly, if not wilfully, the French interpreters have misunderstood him. It is to be regretted that he is not as bold in advancing his own clear view of Aristotle's purport, as in demolishing the flimsy comments of Bossu and Dacier. It was much that he dared to use his com- mon sense and common eyes ; but he might have discovered much more had he used the telescope of an imaginative philosophy; not that he wanted imagination or philosophy either, but he was afraid to ti-ust them together. About one third of Aristotle's treatise of Poetics is worthless,— so currupt that it cannot be restored, and so trifling, that the loss is little to be lamented. But the rest is so admirable, that a commentator is always justified, whenever the meaning is doubtful, in supplying the highest sense which the connection authorizes, without being over delicate of the present text, which was patched together by ignorant transcribers from a mutilated copy. In the time of Sylla there was only one copy of the works of Aristotle known to exist, and that impaired by damj) and worms. How near was a treasure lost to the world ! Twining was a great admirer, perhaps a personal friend, of Mason. Had his translation and commentary existed when the Elfrida was published, Mason would have altered many things in his epistles. WILLIAM MASON. 417 that a ])erfect unity may be attained, tlntugli the teclinical unities (wliich have no use or Ijeauty except in so far as they produce unity) be disregarded. But ]\Iason ccjuhl not have done this, and tlierefore he was right in preserving a simplicity of i)lot, and a bonu-fide con- tinuity of action. lie was riglit, also, in a(h)pting that appendage of tlie ancient stage, wliich gave him an oppdrtunity of sliining in his own way, without too much encumhcring the dialogue with descrip- tion and reHection. To exeniplify his j)lan for reconciling the ancients and moderns, he published, at a considerable interval of time, two serious dramatic poems, of very unetpial merit, and it is pleasant to remark a decided improvement in the later production. " Elfrida" appeared in 1751, "Caractacus " in 17^9, and ^lason's genius gr^w M(»n. derfully in those eight years. His " Elfrida" labours under the disadvantage of an ill-chosen story: a story scarcely familiar or important enough for the foundation of a tragedy of an austerely simple construction, in the treatment of Mhich he has departed so far from what at least passes for authentic history, as to produce an luipleasant jumble of fact and fiction. Elfrida is recorded only as an adultress and a miu'deress. IMason, in direct opposition to a sound precept of Aristotle, inakes her a pattern of con- jugal love and devoted widowhood. Nor are the manners of the time better preserved. But the sentiments of the poetry are pretty, and the tale is certainly a good deal prettier than it is in the History of England. The real Elfrida would have been a tempting subject for Euripides, who delighted to contemplate woman under the influence of strong and dark passions ; but we like IMason the better for his inal)ility to pourtray such a character, and approve his judgment in not attempt- ing it. Among the peculiar difficulties of dramatic composition, what is called the opening of the plot is one of the most formidable, and we know very few plays in which it has been skilfully surmounted. But this difficulty is materially augmented if the unities of ])lace and of time are to be kept inviolate ; for in that case, it is impossible to repre- sent a series of actions from their commencement : the play must Ix^gin just before the crisis, and the auditor must be put in possession of the previous occurrences as soon as possible ; for if they be left in obscurity till they are naturally developed by the incidents and passions of the action itself, half the ])lay will pass over before anv one knows what is going forward, or where is the scene, or who are the dramatis personae. In written or printed plays, to be sure, we may be informed of these particulars by lists of characters, stage directions, &c. ; but no play can be regarded as a legitimate work of art, which wioild not be intelligible 3 G 418 WILLIAM MASON. in representation. Tlic ancient dramas, so long as the genuine Greek tragedy Hourislied, were, witli few exceptions, taken from the store- liouse of mythology, wliich was familiar to every Greek from his child- hood, consequently the Atlienian audiences were never at a loss to understand the subject of a new production. But this, though it w as a great convenience, did not exonerate the poet from his duty : he was not to take it for granted tliat liis story was known, but was to make liis plot unfold itself. The chorus Mas of great use in this business, tlieir odes consisting for the most part of references to the past, and forebodings of the future. Prophecies and oracles to be fulfilled, old crimes to be expiated, mysterious circumstances to be cleared up, a fearful future involved in a fearful past, were the main ingredients of the choral strains, in Mhich nothing is told ; every thing is assumed or liinted at, in accordance with the religious nature of Greek tragedy. But as some more straight-forward exposition was deemed necessary in many instances, Euripides, in particular, had recourse to the very inartificial expedient of a retrospective soliloquy, sometimes spoken by a ghost, in which the history was brought down to the point at which it was convenient that the scene should open. This is but a clumsy device, but perhaps it is better than occupying the first act ^vith tedious narrative, in ^^'hich Prologue plays dialogue with Ditvimy ; and it avoids the worst of all critical faults, that of tediousness. Such as it is, IMason has adopted it in his Elfrida, without an attempt to disguise its manifest absurdity. Orgar, the father of the heroine, appears on the lawn before Athelwold's castle in HareAVOod Forest, and after a few lines, very j)rettily descri])tive of the venerable wood, the orient sun, and the flower-besprinkled lawn, which give you to understand, like the Gun in Sheridan's Critic, that the time is early morning, begins to explain his own business to himself, setting forth as how his daughter has been three months married to Earl Athelwold, who has persuaded him, for some undiscovered reasons, to let the match remain a secret for " some little space ;" that Earl Athelwold has conveyed his bride by stealth to Hare wood Castle, " enjoyed and left her," gone to court, and occasionally visited his wife in disguise, and in such a mysterious fashion, that the old man cannot tell what to think of it; begins to suspect that Athelwold has another wife, and intends to lurk about in disguise of a pilgrim, in order to find out the real state of the case, vcjwing vengeance if his suspicions should turn out to be true. His solilo(iuy is interrupted (just when it has said all that it has to say) by singing behind the scenes, which he rightly supposes to proceed from Elfrida's waiting maids, the companions of her solitude ; whereupon, not to interrupt their harmony, he gets behind a tree, resolving to WILLIAM MASON. 41 J) address tlioni '• with sdiiic foij^ncd tal«%" as soon as tlioy have doiu' tln'ir iiou- but its strength. * The rules of the Greek stage did not absolutely forbid the temporary absence of the chorus, for there was an express word (Mctanastasis) to designate their retire- ment Dr. Blomfield thinks that the stage was occasionally left altogetlier vacant, and intervals of time similar to our bctween-acts interposed ; but this is so awkward an expedient, that we cannot suspect the Athenians of having recourse to it. We forgot to mention that gentlemen (we hope then^ are no such ladies) who dislike poetrj' had better skip this article, for it is ouly for Ivis poetry that Mason's life is worth writing. 122 WlLLIAIVr MASON. Athcl. I must, perforce, this instant: know, Elfrida, Once on a day of high festinty, The youthful King, encircled with his nobles, Crown'd high the sparkling bowl ; and much of love, Of beauty much, the sprighth' converse ran : When, as it well might chance, the brisk Lord Ardulph Made gallant note of Orgar's peerless daughter, And in such phrase as might inflame a breast More cool than Edgar's. Early on the marrow The impatient monarch gave me swift commission To view those charms of which Lord Ardulph's tongue Had given such warm descriptiou ; to whose words, If my impartial eye gave full assent, I had his royal mandate on the iustant To hail you Queen of England. So far the truth of history is followed. But now commences the deviation. The actual Elfrida, deeply resenting the fraud which had given her a simple Thane instead of a royal lover, put on all her charms to captivate Edgar, and rejoiced in the ruin of the too fond Athelwold. Such at least is the narrative of the Monkish historians, who were never ]>etter pleased than when villifying woman, whose society they had superstitiously forsworn. But the wickedness of Elfrida is too well authenticated to admit of rational doubt : the fame of her beauty has never raised her a vindicator, though the power of beauty oft times long outlasts its brief possession, witness the enamoured defenders of Mary Stuart, and of Anne Boleyn. But ]\Iason avails himself of a poet's liberty, and makes her reply. Stead of which You came, and hail'd me wife of Athelwold. Was this the tale I was so taught to fear ? Was this the deed that known would make me fly Thy clasping arm, as 'twere the poisonous adder? No, let this tender fond embrace assure thee That thy Elfrida's love can never die ; Or if it could, this animating touch, Would soon rewake it into life and rapture. We are afraid that there are few, even of the best of women, who would not feel a momentary anger against the man whose passion had defrauded them of a diadem. The love of rank is the besetting tempta- tion of womanhood. Elfrida, however, has not one misgiving, but first proposes to hide herself in her chamber, and robe Albina, (the principal of the chorus,) in her bridal vestments, and when afraid that this stra- tagem would be unavailing, as Ardulph accompanied the King, she declares that she will stain her complexion with berries, hang her head. Drawl out an idiot phrase, and do each act With even a rude and peasant awkwardness. WILLIAM MASON. 423 Athelwold expresses a degree (if shame and contrition at the pros|)ect of meeting the King, \»liich tiie Edgar, calls AthehvoM traitor, and at last, after several interruptions, disch)ses how he lias been tricked of his daughter, and the King of his bride. Edgar takes all very coolly, but is prevailed on to go and judge of Elfrida w ith his own eyes. Athelwold, forgetting tlie courtier, the host, and the hus- band, stands still, and asks the chorus twenty (piestions in a breath. " What said she when I left her .> IIow came her father hither ? How did she receive him ? Did she marshal him to his deed of vengeance ? The chorus exculpate Elfrida from the stispicion of disclosing the secret, and confess their own disobedience in concealing the iuikno\ni stranger, who proves to be Orgar, and who from his concealment has over-heard all. There is a loftiness in Athelwold's reply, by no means unfre(juent in IMasrjn's writings, which would excuse worse faidts of construction and language than he is guilty of: — Clionis. This our disobedience We own — Athel. Was my perdition. Yet 'tis welL I blame ye not; it was Heaven's justice, Virgins; This brought him hither; this annull'd your faith; I do not think you purpos'd my destruction. But yet you have destroy'd me. O, Elfrida ! And art thou faithful? This my jealous eye Thought it had mark'd some speck of change upon thee; Thought it had found, what might have made thy loss, Somewhat within endurance. 'Tis not so ; And this thy purity but sirves t' augment The sum of my distractions. ]Meet me, Edgar, With thy raised sword ; be merciful and sudden. He departs ; and the chorus recite an Ode upon Truth, which may be found in Enfield's Speaker. No one who reads it there Mould suppose that it ever was intended to form part of a drama, much less that it was chaunted by a company of young ladies, at a crisis of the utmost distress, when their master and mistress were in the jaws of ruin, partly too by their fault. There is no authority or precedent for such an absurdity in the works of the Greeks ; nor can it be excused by that compliance with modern taste M'hich is announced with so much ado, in the explanatory epistles. The verses must have been written for some other occasion, and were thrust in here because they were too good to be lost. They are, hoMCver, very indifferent, in a most tawdry style, and no May above the reach of any school.boy, who had read Akenside, and learned to tag verses. 3 II 426 WILLIAM MASON. After tlio Ode is finished Atlielwold ruslies in, bent upon self-murder, for Edijar 1ms seen Elfrida, and Atlielwold is banished. The chorus make a tolerable S})eech against suicide. Atlielwold wavers. Elfrida enters, and Edgar follows. Elfrida pleads for her husband with con- siderable earnestness and dignity. Atlielwold is all despair and con- trition, talks of killing himself. Edgar is melted, and forgives him all freely, with a generosity very line ; but not at all to be expected from a despot, who, a few minutes before, thought of falling foul on a woman, a wife, whom he perceives has given the heart, upon which he never had the slightest claim, to another. He goes off to chace the " nimble roebuck," bidding Athelwold follow, who, after one farewell, obeys. The detestable Orgar, (who has been standing by all the while without opening liis mouth) now breaks out into a storm of reproaches, which are deprived of all verisimilitude by being clothed in pompous dignified language. Shakspeare luiderstood human nature far better when he made old Ca])ulet call poor little Juliet " tallow-face" and " green- sickness carrion ;" nor are the vituperative passages in ^schylus, Sophocles, or Euripides, a bit more polite. Rage is essentially \ti1- gar, and never vulgarer, than M'hen it proceeds from mortified pride, or disappointed ambition, or thwarted wilfulness. A baffled despot is the vTilgarest of dirty wretches, no matter whether he be the des])ot of a nation vindicating its rights, or of a donkey sinking under its load. Mason makes a poor attempt to dignify the villainy of Orgar. He, forsooth, is of ancient British line, and Athelwold's perfidy has pre- vented the British blood from being regalized. Accordingly, he resolves to wait his return, and give him " fair combat." He retires. A pretty dialogue ensues between Elfrida and the chorus, who are, however, a sort of Job's comforters, tormenting the poor lady with likelihoods of lier husband dispatching himself. But he is destined to another end. Edwin, the representative of the 7iuntius, or messenger of the old drama, arrives to relate that Edgar, having drawn Athelwold into a retired part of the wood, and declared that, as a sovereign, he for- gives his disloyalty, challenges him to combat, as man to man, and friend to friend, for Elfrida. Athelwold only makes a feint of defence, (luickly falls, and dies smiling. Elfrida invokes all Heaven's vengeance upon Edgar, and gathers strength from intensity of sorrow. The dignity of her anger is true to the noblest nature. Orgar, hearing lier lamentations, comes in. She falls at his feet, imjilorcs him to avenge her, and then suddenly recollects that he too was sworn against the life of Athelwold : Alas ! T had fortjot : had Edgar spar'd him, That sword U> which my iuadiH's>i calk'd i'or vfiig-caiict- WILLIAM .MASON. -JOy lire Ion;; was meant to do the bloody deed, And make the murder parricide. Oi-njar, not at all displeased at what lias liajipencd, tries to comfort Jier ; but she will not be comforted, and withdraws with the principal virjrin, Albina, the coryphaeus or spcjkeswonian of the cliorus. Orj^ar goes to confer with the King, whom he now feels confident of getting for a son-in-law : charging the virgins, as soon as Eifrida's grief is a little (piieted,to hint the King's praises till, "by practice won, she bear their fuller l)lazon." The seniichorus resolve to say triitli, and nothing but truth. Albina returns, and informs lier companions that Klfrida has resolved on j)erpetual widowhood : and then Elfrida enters herself, and kneeling down, vows to build a convent on the spot where her husband fell, and to preserve " for aye, austerity, and single life :" Hear next, that Athelwold's sad widow swears Never to violate the holy vow She to his truth first plighted ; swears to bear The sober singleness of widowhood To her cold grave. The cliorus pray that the vow may be enrolled " mid the dread records of eternity," and so the curtain drops. An acute and elegant critic remarks, that this conclusion reminds the reader too much of the proverbial instability of widows' vows, Vows made in pain as violent and void. But does not this feeling arise chiefly, if not solely, from the confusion between the Elfrida of liistory, and the Elfrida of the play? As an accomnKHlatioii of the ancient drama to modern habits and sympathies, "Elfrida" must be ])ronoiniced a decided failure. The Uni- ties are indeed jireserved ; but at the expense of pmbability and common sense. The chorus, instead of forming a necessary and integral part of tlie drama, is a mere incumbrance on the action, and at best a Diver, tissement between the acts. But a worse, because a moral fault, is, the unnecessary degradation of the parental character in the person of Orgar. His mock-mendicity, and lying, and skidking, and eves-droj)- ping, and tale-telling, effect no purpose that might not have been better l)rought about in other ways ; and after the discovery of Athelwold's treachery, lie is of no use at all, but a dead weight upon the scene. We cannot help thinking that INIason began his "Elfrida" with an eye to the theatre ; but finding the lyric parts, in which his strength lay, overgrow the dramatic, he abandoned that intention, and did not even offer it to a manager. When, however, he had ac(|uired a name, which was likely to fill the house, the elder Colmaii most unjustifiably pro- duced it at Coveiit Garden, with his own or somebody else's alterations. 428 WILLIAM MASON. IMason was angry at this, mi wonder ; and Colinan tlircatcned him with a chorus of Grecian washerwomen. IMason prudently let the matter drop. He had an irritable anxiety about his reputation, which made him a very iniequal match for managers of iron nerve and brazen face ; and though he had undoubtedly the right on his side, Colman and the chorus of washerwomen would have had the laugh on theirs. In 1776, " Elfrida" appeared at Govent Garden with the author's own alterations. It was probably lieard once or twice with respectful attention, and then heard no more. " Elfrida " Mould have sunk in oblivion if JNIason had never written Caractacus. Nearly eight years, " not idly nor unprofitably spent," intervened between the publication of Elfrida and that of Caractacus ; but it is convenient at once to finish o»n* notices of Mason's dramatic career. His talent was of the improving kind ; and as he seems to have delighted in composition, he never let it rust for want of use. Accord- ingly, Caractacus, compared to Elfrida, is as the well-considered work of a man, to the rash adventure of a boy. Much of its superiority depends, however, upon the choice of the scene and of the story. The last of the Britons making his final stand in the hallowed seat of the Druidical religion, is an imposing and magnificent object, accordant to the spirit of that Grecian tragedy which Mason proposed as his model. The Druids possess the sacerdotal and mysterious character which properly pertains to a chorus ; and the awful scenery of Mona's Isle affords space for landscape painting, which, though sparingly indulged by the Greek tragedians, is by no means incompatible with the nature of the Attic drama. The opening speech has been censured as too poetical, — a very false and idle censure ; for poetry cannot be too poetical. A sounder objec- tion is, that it violates the moral probabilities of character. Aulus Didius is come on a wicked purpose, to be executed by the wickedest of means, by urging two British youths to betray, with blackest false- liood, the veteran defender of British liberty. We should be sorry for Nature, if such a man, at such a time, could have any perce])tion of her beauties. A superstitious shuddering at her wild and awful shapes lie might feel ; but coward superstition suggests only mean, and ugly, and loathsome images. A poet may — indeed he must — give voice to feelings that in real life are silent: he must dcvelope the imperfect germs of thought, and give them form and outwardness. It is a sense- less cavil to say, that such and sucli a character would not, in the given situation, speak the words that the poet attributes to him, or any thing like them. But still the wonls should express some meaning of the supposed speaker's mind or heart, though it sliouid be a meaning that WILLIAM MASON. 429 in rt'iility would not he siunincMK'd to consciousness. Tanjuin must not stay his " ravisliinj^ stri(U's" to praise the moon for her chastity.^' Had Aulus c(»me to worship the oM divinities of IM(nia, or had lie heen making a lour in search of tJie picturesque, the lines, which are (juite Salvator Rosa, would have heen perfectly api)ropriate : " Here, Romans, pause, and let the eye of wonder Gaze on the solemn scene ; behold yon oak, How stern he frowns, and with his broad brown arms Chills the palrf plain beneath him : mark yon altar, The dark stream brawling round its rugged base. These cliffs, tliesi' yawning caverns, this wide circus. Skirted with unhewn stone : they awe the soul As if the very Genius of the place Himself appeared, and with terrific tread Stalk'd round his drear domain." The following scene, hetween Aulus Didius and the sons of Car- tismandua, Elidurus and Vellinus, supposed to he hostages, whose liherty is promised as the price of decoying Caractacus into the Roman power, is not deficient in dramatic vivacity. Ever since the Babes were led into the Wood, and perhaj)s long before, if ever tMo villains are set to one service, one of them turns out to he quite a good, honest, tender-hearted fellow ; while the other is an ohdiu'ate scoffer at his scruples. So as soon as Aulus Didius quits the Druidical circle, Elidurus and Vellinus J fall to an altercation, the former determining * What can be more beautiful than the scene between Lorenzo and Jessica, at the beginning of the fifth act of the Merchant of Venice? but how utterly absurd would it have been, if even that single line — " How sweet the moonshine sleeps upon this bank ! " had been put into the moiUh of Shylock ? Yet an etpuil absurdity is perpetrated iu Gibber's alteration of " Richard the Third," where the descriptive lines of the chorus of "Hcnrj'the Fifth" are put into the mouth of King Richard. Shakspeare, however, has himself neglected the propriety for which we are contending, in two instances. The beautifully- fanciful poetry uttered by laehimo, in Imogen's chamber, could have no seed or root in the heart of such a ribald scoundrel. The other is a less glaring ca,se, but still the flowery description of Cleopatra on the Cydnus does not proceed naturally from a rugged old soldier like -^inobarbus. f Pale is one of Mason's perpetual epithets. The compound palc-cycd occurs some fifty times in the course of his lyrics; and yet he never had the courtesy to pen a little note to explain what he means by it. X From a letter of Gray's to Mason, it appears that these decoy-youths were not in the first sketch of the play, supposed to be the sons of Cartismandua, but nobodies, like the Nuntius of the ancient drama, or Shakspeare's still more anonymous " two gentlemen." This, with several others of Gi-ay's letters, shews how long Carac- taeus was in writing, and how many alterations it underwent bofori' it came before the public eye. Its date is Sept. 28, 1767. We shall transcribe tlie first paragraphs, 430 WILLIAM MASON. to "proceed no further in this business," while Velliiuis will have it that honour, duty to their mother (who is the prime promoter of the treason), and religion, which will be undone if the Romans execute their threat of destroying the sacred groves, oblige tliem to fulfil their engagement. And so they go off without coming to any agree- ment. Then the chorus of Druids make their entrance, and divide into responsive semi-chori. There is something very antique and mystical about their opening incantation. The following lines read almost like a translation from the Welsh or Runic : But tell me yet, From the grot of charms and spells Where our matron sister dwells, Brennns ! has thy holy hand Safely brought the Druid wand. And the potent adder-stone, Gender'd fore the autumnal moon, When in undulating twine The foaming snakes prolific join; together with a note of Mason's own ; for the history and progress of Mason's works is the most important history of his life. " I have (as I desired Mr. Stonchewer to tell you) read over Caractacus twice, not with pleasure only, but with emotion. You may say what you will; but the con- trivance, the manners, the interests, the passions, and the expression, go beyond your Elfrida many, many leagues. I even say (though you will think me a bad judge of this), that the world will like it better. I am struck with the chorus, who are not there merely to sing and dance, but bear throughout a principal part in the action ; and have (beside the costume, which is excellent) as much a character of their own as any other person. I am charmed with their priestly pride and obstinacy, when, after all is lost, they resolve to confront the Roman general, and spit in his face. But now I am going to tell you what touches me most from the beginning. The first opening is \ery greatly improved: the curiosity of Didius is now a very natural reason for dw-elling on each particular of the scene before him ; nor is the description at all too long. I am glad to find the two young men are Cartismandua's sons. They interest me far more- I love people of condition : they were men before that nobody knew : one could not make a bow to them if one had met them at a public place."— ieito- 27, Mason's edition. To which Mr. Mason subjoins:--" In the manuscript now before him, Mr. Gray had only the first ode ; the others were not then written ; and although the dramatic part was then brought to a conclusion, yet it was afterwards in many places altered. He was mistaken with regard to the opinion the world would have about it. That world, which usually loves to be led in such matters, rather than form an opinion for itself, was taught a different sentiment; and one of its leaders went so far as to declare, that he never knew a second work fall so much below a first from the same hand. 'I'o oppose Mr. Gray's judgment to his, I must own, gives me some small satisfaction; and to enjoy it, I am willing to risk that imputation of vanity which will probably fall to my share for having published this letter-" WILLIAM MASON. 4:U When Ihcy hiss, and when they bear Tlieir woiulnnis t'^j; aloof in air, 'I'heiiee, lieCoru to earth it I'ail, The Druid in his hallowed pall Receives the prize, And inst;int flies, Follow'd l)y the envenom'd brood, Till he cross the chrystal flood. Crav liad coiirtcously collected for his friend wliatevor records of the Druidical superstitions are to l)e found in the Greek and Roman writers, and lAIason lias made a skilfid use of tliose scanty materials, with such additions from his own invention as seemed to harmonize with what was known of Celtic theology. He is also somewhat indehted to the Edda and other relics of Scandinavian fable. With the Druidical metaphysics, commemorated in the Welsh Triads, and songs of the hards, since bnnight to light l)y the industry of Cymrodorian scholars, he does not a])i)ear to have had much accpiaintaiice. If these meta- physical doctrines were really couched in the Druids' mysteries, the Druids were very philosophical dreamers indeed. The presence of the Druidical bards is well accounted for, — an important circumstance in the formation of a chorus. Caractacus is about to be admitted into the order, and initiated into their mystic rites. A])andoning all hope of successful resistance to the Roman in\aders, he is resolved to lay aside his royalty, and To end his days in secrecy and peace, A Dniid among Druids. His approach is well described. He enters accompanied by his daughter Evelina, and apostrojdiizes the oaks in some very spirited and well- versiticd lines. The whole scene is good, but it is a question whether it would not be still better without Evelina. The delineation of female characters was not in IMason's province. He tries to make them tender, but he only makes them fond ; and what is Mdrse, he throM's their expressions of fondness into the form of abstract propositions, clotlied in language which not only is studied, but appears so. Evelina, in good sooth, talks more like a Roman blue stocking (a character that did exist) than like a British maiden. She is too sentimental for a heroine, and too sententious for a girl. There is a speech of Carac- tacus's which has been highly praised, and by a high authority, for its pathetic simplicity: perhaps Evelina's reply, in the same judgment, is simple and pathetic likewise. The principal Druid I)ids the King bethink himself If ought in this vain earth still Imlds too firm a union with thy soul, L^stransrinK it fnoii iioacf - 432 >MLLIAM MASON. Carac. I had a Queen, Bear with my weakness Druid ! this tough breast Must heave a sigh, for she is unrevenged. And can I taste true peace, she unrevenged ? So chaste, so lov'd a Queen ? Ah Evelina ! Hang not thus weeping on the feeble arm That could not save thy mother. Evelina. To hang thus Softens the pang of grief ; and the sweet thought. That a fond father still supports his child, Sheds on my pensive mind such soothing balm. As doth the blessing of these pious seers, When most they wish our welfare. Would to heaven, A daughter's presence could as much avail To ease her father's woes, as his doth mine. The meaning of these lines is indeed pathetic, and it is probable that when the author first conceived the situation, he really felt for Carac- tacus and his daughter. But it was his practice to write and re-write till his original conceptions were evaporated, and nothing but his own words remained upon his memory. He was like a painter who, having taken a hasty sketch of a landscape on the spot, goes into his study and touches and re-touches till the little recollection of the original, which lie retains, only serves to puzzle him, and his work at last has neither the Catholic truth of art, nor the individual reality of nature. Mason, as we have seen, was a great stickler for the Unities, yet he violated the most essential unity of all — the unity of interest. He attempted to combine interests Avhich destroy one another. Had " Caractacus" been composed according to the ideal of the ancient drama, Caractacus would have appeared simply as the impersonation of British liberty ; and the predominant feeling should have been, that the fate of an individual involved the doom of a state. And had Mason written for himself he Avould have preserved this singleness of purpose, and produced a single satisfactory impression. But he thought it necessary to condescend to the popular weakness : to shew Caractacus as the man, the huslmnd, the father, and thereby, he has introduced as great an inconsistency as could have been effected by the most tragi- comic alternation of mirth and tears. There is something wild and grand in the address of the bards to Snowdon, and the sj)irits resident thereon. A locality has seldom been made better use of in the drama : — Strike, ye Bards, Strike all your strings symphonious ; wake a strain May penetrate, may purge, may pnrifv. His yet unhallowed bosom; WILLIAM MASON. 433 Call ye hither The airy tribt-, that on yon mountain dwell lu'n iin niajrstic Snowdun; they who never Deign visit mortal men, save on some cause Of highest import; hut sublimely shrined* On its hoar top in domes of chrystallinc ice, Hold converse with those spirits that possess The skies' pure sapphire, nearest Heaven itself. Tlie Otic which follows this invocation has been as highly praised Ji.s any thing that I\Iason has written. The opening lines are certainly sound- ing and harmonious ; but like most odes of your corrcctinij writers, far from correct. The third is absolutely ludicrous. IMona must have j relied herself lo fiddle slrimjs: — !Mona on Snowdon calls, Hear, thou King of mountains, hear, Hark she speaks from all her strings, Hark, her loudest echo rings. King of mountains, bend thine ear, Send thy spirits, send them soon. Now, when midnight and the moon Meet upon thy front of snow, __ See ! their gold and ebon rod. Where the sober sisters nod,f ( And greet in whispers sage and slow. Snowdon ! mark, 'tis magic's hour ; Now the mutter'd spell has pow er ; * Above nie are the Alps, The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls. Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, And throned eti-rnity in icy halls, Of cold sublimity." Child Harold. Cant. I. f Gray seems to have been imicli pleased with these lines. Speaking of the athan- tagcs and licences of subjects like Caractacus, drawn from a period of whose manners and opinions scarcely anything is known, he says, " They leave an unbounded liberty to pure imagination and fiction, (our favourite provinces,) where no critic can molest, or antiquarj' gainsay us : and yet (to pleiise me) these fictions must have some affinity, some seeming connexion, with that little we really know of the character and customs of the people. For example, I never heard in my life that midnight and the nu>on were sisters; that they carried rods of ebony and gold, or met to whisper on the top of a mountain ; but now I could lay my life that it is all true, and do not doubt it will be found so in some pantheon of the Druids, that is to be discovered iu the library at Herculaueum." — Letter 27. I cannot think " sober sisters" by any means a happy epithet in the present state of the English language. Sober originally meant sound-minded, self-possessed ; but at present it only inijilies the abseiiee of ebriety. 3i 434 WILLIAM MASOX. Power to rend thy ribs of rock, And hurst thy base with thunder's shock. But to thee no ruder spell Shall Mona use, than those that dwell In music's secret cells, and lie Steep'd in the stream of harmony. Snowdon has heard the strain, Hark, amid the wondering grove Other voices meet our ear, Other harpings answer clear, Pinions flutter, shadows move, Busy murmurs hum around, Rustling vestments brush the ground. Round, aud round, and round they go. Through the twilight, through the shade, Mount the oak's majestic head. And gild the tufted mistleto. This last image, pretty as it is, is far too pretty for tlie occasion. It would be well in a sportive fairy-tale ; but the Druids, while invok- ino- mysterious powers, in whose existence they had a real, not a poetical belief, could not be in a mood to observe such minute effects. This choral ode, which poor as our literature then was in good lyric poetry, might well pass for a chef-d'oeuvre, is very skilfully broken off by the principal Druid announcing that " a sullen smoke in- volves the altar," that " the central oak doth quake," and that he liears the sound of profane steps. Vellinus and Elidurus have been detected in the " bottom of a shadowy dell holding earnest converse." They are dragged in, by the attendant Druids. Their treacherous pur- pose of course could not be more than suspected ; but the very presence of unconsecrated persons in the sacred island is a sacrilege. Elidurus is abashed, and on the point of stammering out a confession, when Velli- nus snatches the words out of his mouth, and lies M'ith tragic audacity. He pretends a commission from his mother, Cartismandua, Queen of the Brigantes, to invite Caractacus to her aid against the legions of Ostorius, the Roman general, wlio, though kept at bay " for three long moons," still hover round the frontiers. Like falcons They hang suspended, loth to quit their prey, And yet afraid to seize it. (a striking and apprttjiriate image.) The whole speech is well written, aud has skilfidly adopted the sustained rhelorical style in which W) 1. 1. 1 AM MASON. 43;') .SIiak's|H';iri! * clotlii's the haraiif^ui's of deceivers. Every l)eri<>(l is evidently l)alaiKe(l and digested before Iiaiid ; notliiiig trusted to tlie inij)ulse of tlie niomeiit. Caraetacus, hearing his name nientif^ned, steps from Ix'hind tlie altar, and deehires his readiness to shed his " last purjjje drop" f(»r Britain. The chorus, not liking the hold look and iiiml)le tongue of the young orator, censure his rashness : but Vellinus, t<» msilvc sure of him, touches his tenderest point by telling him that his Queen Guideria is safe in (yartisniandua's court, having l)eeu rescued by his (Vellinus's) valour. Caraetacus is entrapped. The speech \iitli M-liich he welcomes the intelligence is really affecting, though it shews that the British hero was no physiognomist : — Let me clasp thee, youth, And tlioii shalt be my son; I had one, Stranger, Just of tliy years; he hjok'd, like thee, right honest, And yet he fail'd me. Were it not for him, Who, as thou seest, ev'n at this hour of joy, Draws tears down mine old cheek, I were as blest As the great Gods. and so he calls for his spear, bow, target, &c. The chorus check his impetuosity, reminding him of the luifavourable omens. He, like Hector, despises auguries, exclaiming : — No, by Heaven I feel, Beyond all omens, that within my breast, Which marshals me to conquest. But the Druid asserts the superiority of the priesthood t(» the monar- chy with a boldness worthy of Pojjc Gregory or Pope Boniface. IMador is the model of what a Higli-Chiu'ch-man ought to be : — Thou art a King, a Sov'reign o'er frail man, I am a Druid, servant of the Gods, Such service is above such Sovereignty. At some times, and from some persons, such sentiments as these, tiiougli .spoken in the character of a Druid, would have exposed "an author to 2)eril. But Mason was then a known Whig, and the violence of Win'"- jealousy was blown over. Yet in a note he has thought j)roper to prove from Dion, Chrysostoni, and Hehnodus de Slavis, that this supreme authority of the ])riestliood over the civil power was an histo- rical fact. • As examples of this management, see Macbcth'.s speech in justification of himself for killing the grooms; the speeches of the King in Hamlet; Antony's Oration, where however there is a mixture of sincerity and fraud. .■\n admirable instance of bold and eloquent pleading in a bad causi may be found in W^ebster's " V'ittoria Corombona," extracted in Lamb's specimens of early Dramatic Writer^, a work to which my obli- gations are only less than those 1 owe to his " 'I'aKs from Shaksptare." 436* WILLIAM MASON. After some fartlier conversation about patriotism, death and destiny, and the fiend oblivion,* the principal Druid, resolving; to seek for the counsel of the Gtxls in sleep, desires the uninitiated to retire, and then addressed the bards in lines which liave been nuich and justly admired for the vivid manner in which they picture sound, and describe the powers of music. Indeed, except the description of the nightingale's song, in the Odyssee, the lines on music in Milton's L'Allegro, and Crashaw's " Music's Duel," (taken from Strada's Prolusions) we do not rememlxT any thing of the kind equal to these verses : Ye time-enobled seers, whose reverend brows Full eighty winters whiten ; you, yc bards, Leoline, Cadwall, Heel, Cantaber, Attend upon our slumbers ; wondrous men, Ye whose skill'd fingers know how best to lead Through all the maze of sound, the wayward step Of Harmony, recalling oft, and oft Permitting her unbridled course to rush Through dissonance to concord, sweetest then. Even when expected harshest. The first strophe and anti-strophe of the following chorus arc so * " The time will come, when Destiny and Death, Throned in a burning car, the thundering wheels, Arm'd with gigantic scythes of Adamant, Shall scour the field of life, and in the rear, The fiend Oblivion : kingdoms, empires, worlds, Melt in the general blaze : when lo ! from high, Andraste darting catches from the wreck. The roll of fame, claps her ascending plumes, And stamps on orient stars each patriot name. Round her eternal dome." Is not this " Ilercles vein? " Could Kidd or Marloe, Mahound and Termagant, or " bedlam Tamburiane " have out-heroded this ? Go by, Jeronymo. Yet not unlikely Mason thought it the very finest passage in the whole Drama. It was, however, written differently at first, and altered at Gray's suggestion. " The car of Destiny and Death is a very noble invention of the same class, and as far as that goes, is so fine, that it makes me more delicate than perhaps I should be about the close of it Andraste sailing on the wings of Fame, that snatches the wreaths to hang them on her loftiest amaranth, though a clear and beautiful piece of tmknmvn mythology, has too Greek an air to give me perfect satisfaction." Second thoughts, in poetry, are seldom best, especially when those thoughts are not the poet's own. The original image is more agreeable and less monstrous than the one substituted. Strabo informs us, that the Druids foretold the final destruction of the world by fire. WILLIAM .MASON. -137 hoaiitiful, tliat we cannot forbear tlicin, tliough mc have already ex- ceeded in quotation : Hail, thou haq) of Phryfjiaii fame ! In years of yore that Camber bore From Troy's sepulchral flame. With ancient Unite, to IJritaiu's shore. The mighty minstrel came: Sublime upon the burnlsh'd prow He bade thy manly modes to flow. Britain heard the descant bold; She flung her white arms o'er the Sea, Proud in her bosom to enfold The freii^ht of harmony. Mute till then was everj' plain, Save where the flood o'er mountains rude Tumbled his tide amain, And Echo, from the impending; wood. Resounded the hoarse strain ; While from the north the sullen gale With hollow whistlings shook the vale ; Dismal notes, and answered soon By savage howl the heaths among, What time the wolf doth bay the trembling moon, And thin the bleating throng. But INfason never long together Iceeps clear of pcrsonirtcations, which, if they were always striking, or beautiful, or singly ai)i)r()[)riate, would be cumbersome, ])ecause there are too many of them for any but an expressly allegorical poem. But sometimes the personification is merely verbal, — a stale device to exalt the style,— and sometimes they produce an incongruity, being unsuited to the time, the speaker, or the occa- sion. The bard 3Iador talks fiu- too like a modern poet, when he speaks of " Fancy the Fairy," and " Inspiration, bright ey'd Dame." The mention of these nonentities takes away from the credibility of the supernatural agencies, which the interest of the drama recjuires us pro tempore to admit to be real existences. Some verses in the set[uel of this ode are cxcjuisite, as Lo ! the sound of distant plumes Pants through the pathless desert of the air. Some villainous, as Tis not the flight of her; Tis sleep, her dewy haibingcr. and worse if possible : I siug A sevenfold ehiin. , and sweep and swiiiii. To mix thy music witli Uu sphere.-. 438 WILLIAM MASON. How could Gray suffer siicli enormities as these to pass ? The description of Inspiration^ Mhcn she conies, "Mith a pencil in lier hand," is very inditferent. While this chorus, m hicli begins so well, is singing, the Druid seer goes to sleep, has very painful dreams, and at the end of it starts up in great terror, and utters an incoherent speech, which is timely inter- rupted by the entrance of Evelina, who, after pardon asked for her intrusion, declares her suspicions of the two Brigantine youths, and specially the elder, Vellinus. The Druids caution her to beware of rash judgment, with a just compliment to her sex : Say'st thou, virgin ? Heed what thou say'st. Suspicion is a guest That, in the breast of man, of wrathful man, Too oft his * welcome finds ; yet seldom sure III that suhiiiissive calm that smooths tloe mind Of maiden innocence. Evelina. I know it well, Yet must I still distrust the elder stranger ; For while he talks (and much the flatterer talks), His brother's silent carriage gives disproof Of all his boast ; indeed, I mark'd it well ; And as my father with the elder held Bold speech and warlike, as is still his wont When fir'd with hope of conquest, oft I saw A sigh unbidden heave the younger's breast, Half check'd as it was rais'd, sometimes methought His gentle eye would cast a glance on me. As if he pitied me ; and then again Would fasten on my father, gazing there To veneration ; then he'd sigh again, Look on the ground, and hang his modest head Most pensively. This is beautifully true to nature.t Men are deceived in their * This is one, but not an only instance in which Mason has injured and overclouded his phrase by unnecessary and imperfect personification. How much clearer and more flowing were this passage, were it written "too oft a welcome finds." As it is, we can hardly tell to what antecedent his refers, — whether to suspicion or to man. f I trust I shall not be censured if 1 quote from an author whom it might not beseem me to praise ; but the passage occurs in a piece not so well known as some others, and illustrates the principles I have endeavoured to explain: " And yet Sarolta, simple, inexperienced. Could see him as he was, and often warned me : Whence learned she this .' — O, she was innocent ! And tf this tirade about " love and mercy" taking place in a land of hiunan sacrifices. A cruel religion must engender a cruel morality. But this is nut the worst. It would be naturally supposed that the captives would be lovingly and mercifully 448 WILLIAM MASON. k'd iifF, to suffer combustion in a colossus of baskct-Mork, unless Evelina or Arviragus should interpose in their favour. But no. The Druids are made to forbid and execrate the holiest sacrament of their o\\'n religion O think not King, That Mona shall be curst by these dire rites, Even from the youth of time yon holy altar, Has held the place thou seest : ages on ages, Have tliere one sacrifice, but never yet, Stream'd it with human gore : nor ever shall While we hold office here : 'tis true that Gaul, True too that Britain, by the Gauls mistaught, Have done such deeds of horror ; deeds that shock'd Humanity, and call'd from angry Heaven, These curses on our country. Came. Can the Gods Behold a sight more grateful, than the flame, That blasts impiety ? Chorus. Admit they cannot : Need they the hand of man to light that flame ? Have not those God's their lightning? Tarauis, Doth he not wield the thunder? Carac. Holy Druid, , I stand rebuked. Will ye then pardon them ? Chor. We say not that. Vengeance shall have her course, But vengeance in her own peculiar garb. Not in the borrowed weeds of sage religion : They suit not her. This conclusion reminds one rather awkwardly of the inquisition deli- vering over its victims " to the secular arm." Altogether we think this scene intrusive and improper. It does not at all fiu'ther the plot ; it violates the truth of history ; it re})resents Caractacus as a pitiful and superstitious sophist, and makes a heathen priesthood the opponents of bloody superstition. The play now draws to a close. Evelina rushes in, trembling and alarmed. She has heard hostile footsteps in the grove. Caractacus tries to laugh away her fears ; but she is positive that she saw sacrile- gious brands. The grove is on fire. Caractacus mistakes the flames for the rising sun. Not so the Druids. They see plainly what is the matter, call again to arms, Caractacus runs out to defend the altars. The chorus scamper to and fro in consternation. Arviragus enters, leaning on the arm of Elidurus, mortally Mounded. Dying scenes, tediously protracted, are the most disagreeable of all tragic expedients. If there be one rule of the French stage, which we could wish to be adopted on ours, it is that which banishes murder from the stage. WILLIAM MASON. 449 IM.'ison, morcdvor, <;iv'es the ;i<;(»iiies of deatli witlimit the aiiiinatirtii of ;i hu^ht. Tlic chish of swords always sounds ucll in :i theatre; but dyiii^ groans and convulsions are dull to read, and either liorrible or ridiculous to see acted. It is dirticult to guess our autlior's motive for keeping Arviragu-S so long in his misery ; for all he has to say might he said in five lines, and just as well by Elidurus as by himself. It amounts to this ; — that the Hight of the Romans to the ships was a feint ; — that only one half of the invaders had been discovered and repulsed by the Britons, while the other moiety, guided by Vellinus, had j)ursued an unobserved track, gained the pass, and were even now surrounding the sacred recess, Aviragus, having dissuaded Eliduinis fnjm suici that j)it3, he had the affliction to lose his father. From a letter <»f condolence, written by Gray* on this occasion, it appears that the old gentleman had given his son reason to be dissatisfied with the arrangement of his affairs ; but what the particular ground of dissa- tisfaction was, we have not been able to discover. At the same time, and by the same infectious fever, jMason was deprived of Dr. JMarma- * " I know what it is to lose persons that ones eyes and heart have lonj;j been used to; and I never desire to part with the remembrance of that loss, nor would wish you should. It is something that you have had a little time to acquaint yourself with the idea befori' hand ; and that your father sutlVred little pain, the only thin^r that makes death terrible. After I have said this, I cannot help expressing my surprize at the disposi- tion he has made of his affairs. I must (if you will suffer me to say so) call it great weakness; and yet perhaps your aflliction for him is heightened by that very weakness; for I know it is possible to feel an additional sorrow for the faults of those we have loved, even where the fault has been greatly injurious to ourselves." — I.kttkr IS. Was it quite right of Mason to publish this letter? Certainly it is very provoking of him to puMisli it without infurniin;^ the world what the wtakuess complaiutd of was. It is dated December 20, 17.>3. -t54 WILLIAM MASON. duke Pricket, u young pliysician, of his own age, with Mhoni he had been brought up from infancy. Death of friends is a sorrow that nuist come to all mIio have any friends to love, saving that happy number who join the blessed band of innocents " ere sin can blight or sorrow fade/' a sorrow whicli tliey feel most keenly whose lives are happiest. ]Mason, who lived long, must have liad many to lament, nor was there any thing in his existence to teach him that an early death is often the truest blessing. In I7i>-1 he took orders. It is said that Warburton, on this occasion, advised him to give up the stiuly of poetry, as inconsistent with his sacred profession. Such counsel did not come with any great force from a divine whose own clerical vocations had left him time to write notes to the "Dunciad/' and to conjure a meaning into the " Essay on Man," which he knew well enough was not the meaning of its author. INIason sensibly took this admonition as words of cotu'se, like the common dehor- tation from fiddling, fox-hunting, and Pitt_dinner-fre(iuenting, which is one of the common-places of a Bishop's charge. The trade of authorship should never be pursued by a clergyman. One object of a church establishment is to exempt the ministers of the altar from following any trade for sulisistence. But Mason never had been, and never was, an author for bread. The aim of all his writings was to dignify the poetic art : his ol)ject Avas noble, and if there may be some differences, with regard to the degree of success with which he accomplished it, there can be none with rational Christians, as to the jierfect consistency of this design with the duties of a Christian minister. Very soon after his entrance into the sacred profession, he was appointed cha])lain to the Earl of Holderness, and by the Earl's influence, chapkuii to the King. As one of the Earl's domestic chaplains, he attended that Nobleman in a foreign tour, in the course of which he met William Whitehead, then oHiciating as travelling tutor to Viscount Villiars,son of the Earl of Jersey, and Viscount Nureham, son of the Earl of Harcourt. They met at Hanover, in the course of the year 1755, and their friendship continued till death. Mason lived to be the bio- grapher of Whitehead. IMason did not (why did he not?) publish an account of his travels ; Init soon after his return, in 1756, he received the living of Aston, in Yorkshire, in the vicarage of which he continued to reside, with short intermissions, till his death, and there he found an op})ortunity of realizing those speculations on landscape gardening, which he poetized in his English Garden. In the same year, 1756, he published foiu- odes, of which we need only notice two, for as to the ode on Indejiendency, (a mis-nomer for independence, for independency is WILLIAM MASON. 455 vvliJit 110 parson of tlic Cliurcli of Eiif;Ian(l oujxlit to iiiakt* an ode to,) it is generally agreed that Smollett's «;ts Ix'tter, and if so, no matter. One of these odes " On the fate of Tyranny," is, as i\Ir. Mason tells us, a free jjaraphrase of part of the 11th chapter of Isaiah, whore the Prophet, after he lias foretold the destruction of Babylon, subjoins a song of triumph, which he supposes the Jews will sing when his i)rcdic- tion is fulfilled. " And it shall come to pass in the day that the Lord shall give thee rest from thy sorrow and from thy fear, and from the hard bondage wherein thou wast made to serve, that thou shalt take up this parable against the Kings of Babylon, and say. How hath the oppression ceased, &c. If any one would know what the sublimcst poetry is, and how immortal, nay inspired poetry, may lje spoiled by mortal mixtures, let him contpare the 14th chapter of Isaiah and Mason's ode. And yet that ode is one of the best, perhaps the best, paraphrase of Scriptiu*e that ever was made. To contirm oiu* sentence we Mill give a few words M'hich certainly do prove the advantage of a few words over many : Isaiah. " How art thou fallen from Heaven O Lucifer, son of the Morning!" 12,13,14. Mason. " Oh Lucifer thon radiant star, Son of the morn ; whose rosy car Flamed foremost in the van of day : How art thou fall'n, &,c. Ohe, jam satis est. INIilton himself, who produced the greatest, aye, far the greatest work of the mei*e human mind, failed dcploralily in the attempt to versify a psalm. In the ode to " an iEolus Harp," we look in vain for one line better or worse than another. It is a copy of verses and that is all. These odes were ludicrously parodied by Colman and Lloyd, who treated with equal disrespect tlie Bard and other lyric compositions of Gray. Gray took this as he took most things — very quietly, but Mason seems to have been considerably annoyed. His style had certain jiecu- liarities, which made it easy to take off, and there was a buckram solemnity, especially in his earlier works, and a degree of assumption, which always is sure to provoke ridicule. Gray's letter upon this pub- lication of the travestied odes, and JMasons remarks thereon, shew the character of the two poets in a strongly contrasted light : " I have sent Mtisccus back as you (k-sin-d nic, scratched here and there,, and with it also a bloody satire, written against no less persons than yott and / by name. I rimcluded at first it was i\Ir. " "" "', because he is vour friend and my liundde servant, but then I thought he knew 4;)G WILLIAM MASON. the world too well to call us the favourite minions of taste and fasliion, especially as to odes. For to them his ridicule is confined, — so it is n(»t he, but IMr. Colman, nephew to Lady Bath, author of the Coiiois- seur, a member of one of the Inns of Court, and a particular acquaint- ance of Mr. Garrick. What have you done to him ? for I hever heard his name before : he makes very tolerable fun with me where I under- stand him (which is not every where), but seems to be more angry with you. Lest peo})le should not understand the lumiour of the thing (which, indeed, they must have (»ur Ij'ricisms at their finger ends to do), letters come out in Lloyd's E\ ening Post to them who and what it was that he meant, and says it is like to produce a great combustion in the literary world. So if you have any mind to combustle about it, well and good : for me, I am neither so literary nor so combustible. The Monthly Review, I see, just now, has much stuff about us on this occa- sion. It says one of us, at least, has always borne his faculties meekly. I leave you to guess which of us it is." To which IMasoa subjoins the following note : — " Had 'Mr. Pope disregarded the sarcasms of the many writers that endeavoured to eclipse his poetical fame, as Mr. Gray here appears to have done, the world would not have been possessed o'f a Dunciad, but it would have been impressed with a more amiable idea of its author's temper." Mason afterwards proved that he wanted not abilities to have vindi- cated his muse by powerful satire, which is the only way for an ag- grieved author to get the public to his side. In the year 1757> the death of Gibber left the laureateship vacant, and it was offered to Gray, who politely declined it, though it Mas thought he wovdd have been allovved to hold it as a sinecure. The jNIinistry apologized for not offering it to Mason, on the score that he was in orders ; a false excuse, which he was willing enough to admit, having no ambition for the office. His politics, not his cloth, were the true ground of his inelegibility. A clergyman was surely as fit to write the praise of " sacred majesty " as a player ; and in fact, Eusden, the predecessor of Gibber, was an honest Vicar. It was well for Mason's peace that he was not invested with this ill-paid and invidious honour. Ever since the Restoration, every successive Laiu'cate has been the mark of fjcurrility. Davenant was the original hero of the Rehearsal ; but when Dryden succeeded to the Bayes, he also inherited the ridicule from which death had delivered its first object. Dryden was no sooner stript of the laureate-ship himself, than he held it up to scorn in the person of Shadwell. The fatal example, shewn by King William or his ministry, of bestowing what ought to have Ix^en the highest ])oetical honour, upon mere party considerations, was more WII.I.I.Wl MASON. 457 niisclilevoiis t<» tlio crown than sui>erlitMiil observers would rcadilv <"ii- ceive. It tended to hnw^ all loyal poetry into disrepute. It strippofl tlie Ivin<^ly oHicc of its poetic lial<». Statesmen ha\e jM'rliaps vt't to Jearn liow niucli it is to liave tlie inia^inatidii of tlic countrv on their side. We may suppose tliat INIason was not displeased to see his friend Whitehead advanced to the honours of "the Butt and Bayes." In fact, the ajjpointnient \ias very judicious. Tlie character of White- head was hiijhiy respectable, and he was at least a respectable poet. Of the ])ublication of Caractacus in \'J')Q we have already sjtoken. Nothing remarkable appears to have befallen our author till 17^'-, \vhen he was preferred to the Canonry of York, the Preben5, he married JMiss iVIaria Sherman, of Hull, but few indeed were his days of nuptial hapi)iness. Consumption, the bane of the yoinig and beautiful, was lurking in ]\Irs. IMason's constitution, and began to shew unequivocal symptoms almost inunediately after her marriage. During the short period of tlieir union, her husband was incessantly employed in watching the vicissitudes of a malady which mocks despair with similitudes of hope ; and in less than twelve months from their nuptials, the lady expired at the Bristol hot-wells, whither she had been carried, not so much in real exjiectation of benefit, as that nothing for her recovery might be left undone. iMason bore his loss with the tenderness of a man and the resignation of a Christian. Mrs. Mason lies buried in Bristol cathedral, and her husband has recorded her merits and his own loss, in im epitaph, of four eleject, that \\ ill rather enoble his genius, than be enoblcd by it. So the truly great knave never throws knavery away ; in all but the main point he is minutely honest, and only to be distinguished from the naturally honest man, by a greater anxiety about appearances. But in one thing the great knave differs from the great poet. The ])oct conceives great ideas of his own, and in the pro- duction and developement of those ideas his delight consists ; he does SIR RICHARD ARIvWRIfiHT: 4G5 not readily adopt tlie ideas of otliers, far less f the knave, and it is a facidty whicli none can ae<(iiiiv v ho is nro- dnced an Iliad. We rest nothing upon Arkwright's want of education, for all the classicid and mathematical education in the world, with the most accurate study of mechanical powers, and long and minute obser- vation of their practical operations, would not have enabled him to advance a step in the art. Indeed Me doubt if many persons really com- prehend the principal of the most ordinary mechanical contrivances, (as a roasting jack, or a s(juirrels cage.) The great nndtitude of operatives work by mere imitation and blind rule, bit by bit, each executing his portion, more or less neatly, according to his care, manual dexterity, and length of practice, but without ever thinking or asking to what purpose their handiwork is to serve, and in fact knowing little more of mechanics than an organ pipe does of music. Yet you will find, in the shop or factory, some three or four, without an atom more scholarship, and, it may be, with rather less general intellect than their mates, wlut know perfectly what they are about, and want nothing but mental indus- try, or in other words, a will to be first-rate engineers. So too, in the classes that do not labour, you will perceive in some an invincible j)ro- pensity to mechanical inventions, while others, not only cannot execute, but cannot be taught, how the simplest processes are executed. This constructiveness is a distinct fiuiction, or organ, W'e had almost saiil, a peculiar sense, but what it is, or how it operates, we confess our inabi- lity to explain, or to imagine. We are utterly destitute of the organ. In this case, as in others, where the pursuits of the subjects of our memoirs lie out of the sphere of our own knowledge, we shall borrow freely from those soxu*ces of intelligence which lie ojhm> to us. The fol- lowing notice of SiK Richaui) Akkwkkjht is taken, verbatim, from that admirable work, the Library of Entertaining Knowledge, and from ' .3 N 4CC SIR RICHARD ARKVV'RIGIIT., one of its most delightful departinonts — that wliicli illustrates the " Pursuit of laiowledge luider ditiiculties." We are glad of this o])p()rtuiiity to express our gratitude to the author of these pleasant and profitable little v(»Iumes, and think we do him both lionour and justice by giving his facts, in liis words, better than if we shoidd attempt to appropriate what is not our own, by a ])araphrase. Arkwright was born on the 23rd of December, 17^2, at Preston, in Lancashire. His parents Avere very poor, and he was the yoiuigest of a family of thirteen children ; so that we may suppose the school edu- cation he received, if he ever was at school at all, Mas extremely limited. Indeed, but little learning would proba])ly be deemed neces- sary for the profession to which he was bred, — that of a barber. This business he continued to follow till he was nearly thirty years of age ; and this first period of his history is of course ol)scure enough. About the year 17^^^ however, or soon after, he gave up shaving, and com- menced business as an itinerant dealer in hair, collecting the commodity by travelling up and down the country, and then, after he had dressed it, selling it again to the wig-makers, with whom lie very soon acquired the character of keeping a better article than any of his rivals in the same trade. He had obtained possession, too, we are told, of a secret method of dyeing the hair, by which he doubtless contrived to augment his profits ; and perhaps, in his accidental acquaintance with this little piece of chemistry, we may find the germ of that sensibility he soon began to manifest to the value of new and unpublished inventions in the arts, and of his passion for patent-rights and the pleasures of mono- l)oly. It woidd appear that his first effort in mechanics, as has happened in the case of many other ingenious men, was an attempt to discover the perpetual motion. It was in inquiring after a person to make him some wheels for a project of this kind, that in the latter part of the year 1767, he got acquainted with a clockmaker of the name of Kay, then residing at Warrington, with whom it is certain that he remained for a considerable time after closely connected. From this moment we may date his entrance upon a new career. The manufacture of cotton cloths was introduced into this country only towards the end of the seventeentli century ; althougli stuffs, improperly called Manchester cottons, had been fabricated nearly three centuries before, which, however, were made entirely of wool. It is generally thought that the first attem])t at the manufacture of cottcm goods in Europe did not take place till the end of the fifteenth century, when the art was introduced into Italy. Before this, the only cottons known had been inq)orted from the East Indies. SHI RICHARD ARKW RIGHT. 4(57 Tlic Eiiglisli cottons, for many years after the introduction of tlie niannfacturo, lia»l only tlic weft of cotton ; the war]), or Idtifritudinal threads of tlie riotli, bein^ of linen. It was conceived to he inipnicti- cahle to spin the cotton with a siitHciently hard twist to make it serviceahle for this hitter purpose. Although occasionally exported too in small quantities, the manufactured jroods wimc ( liictiy consumed at home. It was not till about the year ]7<><» that any considerable demand for them arose almiad. Hut about this time the exportation of cottons, l»oth to tiie continent and to America, bei:;an to be carried on on a larger scale, and the manu- facture of course received a corresponding impulse. The thread had hitherto been spun entirely, as it still continues to be in India, l)y the tedious process of the distaff and spindle, the spinner drawing out only a single thread at a time. But as the demand for the manufactured article continued to increase, a greater and greater scarcity of \\eft \»as experienced, till, at last, although there were 'AOOO spindles constantly at W(»rk in Lancashire alone, each oirupying an individual spinner, they were fotmd quite insufficient to supply the quantity of thread recpiired. The weavers generally, in those days, had the \veft they used spun for them by the females of their fiunily ; and now " those weavers," says Mr. Guest, in his History of the Cotton Manufacture, " whose families could not furnish the necessary supply of weft, had their spinning done by their neighl)ours, and were obliged to pay more for the spiiuiiiig than the price allowed by their masters; and even with this disadvantage, very few could j)rocure weft enough to keep themselves constantly employed. It was no uncommon thing for a weaver to walk tliree or four miles in a morning, and call on five or six spiiuiers, before he could collect weft to serve him for the remainder of the day ; and when he wished to weave a piece in a sh<»rter time than usual, a new ribbon, or gown, w;us necessary to quicken the exertions of tlie spinner." It was natural, in this state of things, that attemj)ts should be made to contrive some method of spinning more effective than that which had liitherto been in use ; and, in fact, several ingenious individuals seem to liave turned their attention to tlie subject. Long liefore this time, indeed, spinning by machinery had been tliought of by more than one speculator. A i\Ir. Wyatt, of Litchlield, is stated to liave actually invented an apparatus for that jjurpose so early as tlie year 1 "J'-^'.y and to have liad factories built and filled with his machines, both at Bir- mingham and Northampton. These undertakings, however, not being successful, the machines were allowed to i»erish, and no model or des- cription of them was preserved. There was also a ^Ir. Laurence ♦See Essay ou the Cottou TiiuU', In Mr. Kiiuki.1.\, Mimchi-sttT Memoirs, second scries, vol. iii. 468 SIR RICHARD ARKWRKiHT, Eanishaw, of iM(»ttr:ini, in Cheshire, of whom " it is recorded," says xAIr. Bailies, in his History of Lancashire,* " tliat, in the year 17i>3, he invented a machine to spin and reel cotton at one operation, m hich he sliewed to his neiglibours, and then destroyed it, through the generous apprehension tliat he might deprive the poor of bread " — a mistake, but a benevolent one. It was in the year 1767? as we have mentioned, that Arkwright became acquainted with Kay. In 1768 the two friends appeared together at Preston, and immediately began to occupy themselves busily in the erection of a machine for the spinning of cotton-thread, of which they had brought a model with them. They had prevailed upon a Mr. Smalley, who is described to have been a liquor merchant and painter of that place, to join them in their speculation ; and the room in which the machine was fixed was the parlour of the dwelling- house attached to the free grammar-school, the use of which Smalley had obtained from his friend, the schoolmaster. At this time Ark- wright was so poor that, an election contest having taken place in the town, of which he was a burgess, it is asserted that his friends, or party, were obliged to subscribe to get him a decent suit of clothes before they could bring him into the poll-room.t As soon as the election was over, he and Kay left Preston, and, carrying with them their model, betook themselves to Nottingham, the apprehension of the hostility of the people of Lancashire to the attempt he was making to introduce spinning by machinery having, as Arkwright himself after- wards stated,:}: induced him to take this step. On arriving at Notting- ham, he first made arrangements with Messrs. Wrights, the bankers, for obtaining the necessary supply of capital ; but they, after a short time, having declined to continue their advances, he took his model to JMessrs. Need and Strutt, stocking weavers of that place, the latter of whom was a particularly ingenious man, and well qualified,, from his scientific acquirements, of which he had possessed himself under many disadvantages, to judge of the adaptation of the new machinery to its proposed object. An inspection of it perfectly satisfied him of its great value ; and he and IMr. Need immediately agreed to enter into j)artnershij) with Arkwright, who accordingly, in l'J()9, took out a patent for the machine as its inventor. A spinning-mill, driven by horse power, was at the same time erected, and filled with the frames ; being, unless we include those erected many years before by Mr. Wyatt, the first work of the kind that had been known in this country- * Vol. i. p. 115. f Baines's History of Lancashire, vol. ii. p. 484. + Sec his " Case," 1781. SIR RICHARD ARKWRKiHT. 4<)() III 1771 Arkwri^lit and his partners i'stal)li>li('(l aiKitlicr mill at Croin- f(tnl, in the parisli of VVirk.sworth, in Derby shire, the niacliiuery in which was set in inotiuu by a wuter-whoel ; and in 177'"> ''<-' took out a second patent, including some additions wliich he had made to his original ap|Kiratus. In what we have liitherto related, we have carefully confined our- selves to facts which are universally acknowledged ; hut there are other points of the story that have been stated in very opposite ways, and have given rise to much doubt and dispute. The machinery for av Inch Arkwright took out his patents consisted of various parts, his second sj)ecification enumerating no fewer than ten different contrivances ; but of these, the one that was by far of greatest importance, was a device for drawing out the cotton from a coarse to a finer and harder twisted thread, and so rendering it fit to be used for warp as well as weft.* This was most ingeniously managed by the a]»plication of a principle Mhich had not yet been introduced in any other mechanical operation. The cotton was in the first place drawn off from the skewers on wliich it ^^ as fixed by one pair of rollers, which were made to move at a comparatively slow rate, and which formed it into threads of a first and coarser (piality ; t but at a little distance behind the first was placed a second pair of rollers, revolving three, four, or five times as fast, which took it up when it had passed through the others, the effect of which would be to reduce the thread to a degree of fineness so many times greater than that which it originally had. The first pair of rollers might be regarded as the feeders of the second, which could receive no more than the others sent to them ; and that, again, could be no more than these others themselves took up fr(»m the skewers. As the second pair of rollers, therefore, re\olved, we « ill say, five times for every one revolution of the first j)air, or, which is the same thing, required for their consumption in a given time five times the length of thread that the first did, they could obviously only obtain so much length ]»y drawing out the common portion of cotton into thread of five times the oritrinal fineness. Nothinj; could be more beautiful or more etfective than this contrivance ; which, witli an addi- *This was, in truth, the principal subject of Arkwright's first patent; and, accurd ingly, on the great trial (afterwards mentioned) which took place in Jnni', 178.J, his opponents accused him of endeavouring unfairly to prolong his first patent by means of his second. f In Arkwright's apparatus, which was a combination of the carding and spinning maehinery, this first part of the process was somewliat modified; but tlie principle of tile two pairs of rollers, the one revolving faster tluin tlie other, which forms tin* peculiuiily of the muchiuc, was eniplojed as here described. 470 SIR RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. tional pronsiou for giving tlie proper twist to tlic thread, constitutes wliat is called the water-frame or throstle.* Of this part of his machinery;, Arkwright particularly claimed the invention as liis own. He admitted, with regard to some of the other machines included in his patent, that he was rather their improver than their inventor ; and tlie original spinning machine for coarse thread, commonly called tlie spinning-jenny, he frankly attributed in its first conception to a person of the name of Hargrave, who resided at Blackburn, and who, he said, having been driven out of Lancashire in consequence of his invention, had taken refuge in Nottingham ; but, luiable to bear up against a conspiracy formed to ruin him, had been at last obliged to relinquish the farther prosecution of his object, and died in obscuritj^ and distress. There were, however, other parties as well as Arkwright in these new machines, and who would not allow that any of them were of his invention. As to the principal of them, the water-frame, they alleged that it Mas in reality the invention of a poor reed-maker, of the name of Highs, or Hayes, and that Arkwright had obtained the knowledge of it from his old associate Kay, who had been employed by Highs to assist him in constructing a model of it a short time before Arkwright had sought liis acquaintance. Many cotton-spinners, professing to believe this to be the true state of the case, actually used Arkwright's machinery in their factories, notwithstanding the patent by which he had attempted to protect it ; and this invasion of his monopoly was carried to such an extent, that at last he found himself obliged to bring actions against no less than nine different parties.t The first of these, in which a Colonel iMordaunt was defendant, was tried in the Coiu-t of King's Bench, in July, 1781. Uj)on this occa- sion, however, the question as to the originality of the inventions was *So called from its having been originally moved by water power. fit is asserted, in the article on the cotton manufacture, in the Supplement to the Encyclopoedia Britanuica, and repeated in a paper on the same subject in the 91st number of the Edinburgh Review, that a trial took place upon the subject of Ark- wright's first patent in the year 1772, on which occasion he obtained a verdict esta- blishing its validity. This statement, however, for which no authority is given, appears to be altogether without foundation. No such trial is alluded to in the course of the proceedings in the Court of King's Bench in June and November, 1772, although both that of July, 1781, and that of Februaiy, 178.5, are repeatedly men- tioned ; nor is it noticed, we believe, in any of the earliest accounts of Arkwright's machinery. Mr. Guest (who has written a history of the cotton manufacture, which is marked by a somewhat strong dislike to Arkwright) searched the records of the courts of King's Bench, Common Pleas, and Exchequer, for the year 1772, without finding any trace of it. SIR RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. 47 1 uot nioototl ; the defence t;ikeii heiii"^ tlie InsufHcieiicy f>f tlic SjXH'ifica- ti(»ii on wliic'Ii tlie patent liad l»een dhtained ; and ujxtn that frroiind a verdict was given in favour (»f tlie defendant. On this result Ark- wright abandoned the otlier eight actions lie had raised ; and instead of attempting any h»nger to maintain his patent in a court of hiw, published a j)aniphlet, containing what he called liis "Case," with a view of inducing the legislature to interfere for his protection. It is proper we should here mention tliat, although the first of these actions in IJf^lj which decided the fate of the others, thus went off without the real merits of the case liaving been gone into, yet several of the 7, while he was residing in the town of Leigh; that he had employed his neigh boin- and acquaintance Kay to make a model of a machine for him ujion that principle; and that Kav, ujion meeting with Arkwright a slntrt time after, at Warrington, had been persuaded l»y him to coniniunicate to him the secret of Iliglis's invention, on the understanding, as it would a{)pear, that the two should make wliat they could of it, and share the advantages between them. The evidence of 472 SIR RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. each of the witnesses corroborated, so far as the case admitted, tliat of tlie otliers ; Highs stated tliat he had been first informed of the manner in Mhicli Arkwright had got ])ossession of his invention by Kay's wife, M'ho, on her part, SMore that she recollected her husband making models, first for Highs, and afterwards for Arkwright, although she could not speak with any distinctness to the nature of the machine ; while Kay himself acknowledged the treachery of which he had been guilty, and gave a particidar account of the manner in which he said that Arkwright had contrived to obtain from him the secret of Highs's invention. Highs also stated that, upon meeting with Arkwright in INIanchester, some years after he had taken out his patent, he charged him with the source from which he had derived the machine; to which Arkwright said nothing at first, but afterwards remarked that, if any person, having made a discovery, declined to prosecute it, he conceived any other had a right, after a certain time, to take it up and obtain a patent for it, if he chose. This famous trial lasted fi-om nine o'clock in the morning till half- past twelve at night, and excited the greatest interest, both among those more immediately concerned, and among the pul)lic generally. Among the witnesses examined were Mr. Gumming, the well-known watchmaker, ]\Ir. Harrison, the son of the inventor of the marine chro- nometer. Dr. Darwin, and the since celebrated James Watt. The result was a verdict again invalidating the patent ; M'hich, on a motion being made for a new trial, the court refused to disturb. Arkwright after this never took any further steps to vindicate his patent rights. On this account some writers have been disposed to maintain that he really had obtained the inventions in the manner that Highs and Kay alleged. It is, however, to be remembered that it has been a common fate with those who have been fortunate enough to enrich themselves ))y their happy inventions to have attempts made to take from them the honour of those discoveries, of the profits of which it is fovmd impossible to deprive them — and that it has seldom, in such cases, been difficult to find some hitherto unheard-of genius to set up his claim to the prior discovery of what, nevertheless, it Avould appear he scarcely knew the value of, after he had discovered it. In this ])articular case the other party had a strong interest in setting aside Arkwright's pretensions if thev coidd, and the circumstance of Kay having been conneded with Highs before he -was employed by him, afforded them a tempting foun- dation on Avhich to erect what they, no doubt, considered a very conve- nient theory. Then again, as for so much of their allegation as rested uptm the evidence of this Kay, it was not entitled to command much attention, since it a])poan'd both that he had some time before (juarrelled SIR RICHARD ARKWRIGHT, 473 witli Arkwriti^lit, and tliat he must, even by his own account, have acted so perfidious a part in reijard to his first friend Hi^hs, as to deprive luinofall claim to lie l»olieved in any tliiiij^ he niijilit now choose to assert. Ilighs's own evidence is undoubtedly wliat seems to Ijear strongest against Ark^vright ; but he, from very natural causes, might have been mistaken us to various p(»ints. He appears to have told his story in a very confused and ineffective way — much as if he either did not feel his ground to \ie very sure, or was not at all aware of the impor- tance of the facts to which he was l)rouglit to speak. It is not imjjos. sil)le that, if he actually did invent the machine in question, Arkwriglit may have also hit upon the same idea about the same time ; or may at least have l)een led to it nierely by some vague rumour that had got abroad as to what Ilighs was about — not an uiuiatural supposition, when we reflect that his operations seem to have been a good deal talked of in the neiglibourliood, and that the sliglitest hint of the principle of the water-frame would have sufiiced to])ut an ingenious man like Arkwriglit in possession of the whole machine. And this after all gives us, j)er- haps, the most natural explanation of his conversation with Highs at Manchester. If he knew that he hjid really stolen his invention from that person in the manner stated in Kay's evidence, it is not likely that he would have been much disposed to meet him at all ; whereas the interview appears to have lieen arranged by the intervention of a mutual acquaintance, who had in all probability obtained the consent of both parties to his I)ringing them together. His silence, when Highs charged him \\itb having got possession of his invention, or rather merely noticed the circumstance (for the whole seems to have passed in (juite an amicable manner), will depend for its interpretation very much upon the exact words used by Highs, which it is very possible he did not recollect perfectly when he gave his evidence in the Court of King's Bench twelve or thirteen years afterwards. Perhaps he said nothing about Kay at all ; but merely remarked in general terms that he had been beforehand with IMr. Arkwright in thinking of the two pairs of rollers which formed so valuable a part of his patent machinery. This was an averment which for anything that Arkwriglit knew might be true, and which if incorrect he had at any rate no means of refuting ; — so that nothing coiild be more natural than his remaining silent — although he would scarcely, one should think, have taken the thing quite so passively if he had been flatly charged with the base conduct afterwards inijiuted to him. The observation, again, he is said to have made a little while after, is perfectly consistent with this view of the case. He waves the question as to m liich of the two might have been first in possession of the idea ; and contents himself with simply :? 474 SIR RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. remarking that, liowever that might be, he conceived any one wlio had made a discovery which lie tlionght might be turned to advantage was quite entitled to take it uj) and prosecute it by himself, even though another might also be in possession of it, if that other shewed no inten- tion of stirring in the business. And to this remark Highs, by his own account, quietly assented, although it certainly would have been natural enough for him to have hinted, if he really had previously advanced the charge which on the trial he said he had done, that M'hatever a man might do with regard to an invention that was really his own, he could hardly have a right in any circumstances to steal those of other people, and take out a patent for them. Whatever conclusion may be come to on the subject of Arkwright's claim to the invention of the machinery introduced by him into his spinning factories, it is incontestable that to him alone belongs the merit both of having combined its different parts with admirable ingenuity and judgment, and of having by his unwearied and invincible perse- verance first brought it into actual use on anything like an extensive scale, and demonstrated its power and value. The several inventions which his patent embraced, whether they were his own or not, would probably but for him have perished with their authors; none of whom except himself had the determination and courage to face the multi- plied fatigues and dangers that lay in the way of achieving a practical exemplification of what they had conceived in their minds, or to encoun- ter any part of that opposition, incredulity, ridicule, of those disap- pointments, rejmlses, losses, and other discouragements, over all of which he at last so completely triumphed. When he set out on this career he was poor, friendless, and utterly unknown. We have already stated that, on his coming with Kay to Preston, he was almost in rags ; and it may be added that when he and Kay made application immedi- ately before this to a ]\Ir. Atherton for some pecuniary assistance to enable them to pi'osecute their plans, Arkwright's appearance alone was enough to determine that gentleman to have nothing to do with the adventure. Can we have a more exciting example, then, of what a resolute heart may do in apparently the most hopeless circumstances ? — of what ingenuity and perseverance together may overcome in the pursuit of what they are determined to attain } And this is the grand lesson which the history of Arkwright is fitted to teach us — to give ourselves wholly to one object, and never to despair of reaching it. Even after he had succeeded in forming his partnership with Messrs. Need and Strutt, his success was far from being secured. For a long time the speculation was a hazardous and urq»rofital)le one ; and no lit- tle outlay of caj)ital was required to carry it on. He tells us himself in SIR RICH \i:i) \KKVVRir;nT. 475 his "Case," that it did not l)e^iii to pay till it had been ])C'i'scvcred in for five years, and liad swalloued up a i'a])ital of more than twelve thousand j)ounds. We cannot doubt that it required all Ark\vrif lloatiiig Power, a \<'i.-.. 480 SIR RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. Of Thunder, daunting those who would approach With hostile purposes the blessed Isle, Truth's consecrated residence, the seat Impregnable, of Liberty and Peace. • « • * « Yet I exult, Casting reser\'e away, exult to see An Intellectual mastery exercised O'er the blind Elements ; a purpose given, A perseverance fed ; almost a soul Imparted — to brute Matter. I rejoice, Measuring the force of those gigantic powers. Which by the thinking Mind have been compelled To serve the W^ill of feeble-bodied Man. For with the sense of admiration blends The animating hope that time may come When strengthened, yet not dazzled, by the might Of this dominion over Nature gained. Men of all lands shall exercise the same In due proportion to their Countrj-'s need; Learning, though late, that all true glory rests. All praise, all safety, and all happiness, Upon the Moral law. Egyptian Thebes; Tyre by the margin of the sounding waves; Palmyra, central in the Desart, fell; And the Arts died by which they had been raised. — Call Archimedes from his buried Tomb Upon the plain of vanished Syracuse, And feelingly the Sage shall make report How insecure, how baseless in itself. Is that Philosophy, whose sway is framed For mere material instruments : — how weak Those Arts, and high Inventions, if unpropped By Virtue. — He with sighs of pensive grief, Amid his calm abstractions, would admit That not the slender privilege is theirs To save themselves from blank forgetful u ess ! Wordsworth's Excursion. I Xh/iU/Jitdllariii,!/!:^^ iyMF.Bin^Taj.ST Sri^galr.. ZrfM. WILLIAM ROSCOE. Hitherto we have spokon of men whose lives were history, — flowers, or medicinal j)lants (lor us yet we have encountered no weeds), preserved in a Ilurlus-siccns, to which we have done our hest to restore the lively hue and appro})riate aroma. We have now a more delicate task to perform. We speak of a man whose death is a recent sorrow ; whose image lives in eyes that have wept for him. The caution and reserve, which honour and duty exact from the biographer of a living contemporary, are more cs]K'cially required of him who essays to collect the scattered lineaments of one who no longer lives to confute or approve the ])ortrait, m Inch yet may give pain or pleasure to many, who compare the likeness with their own authentic memory. I never saw Roscoe. I have heard much of him, both from the many who delighted in his praise, and from some Mho reluctantly assented to it. Unseen, yet not quite unknown of me, he performed his earthly pilgrimage, and went to his reward. If his life were not a theme of conunendation, — if, however told, it were not a bright example and an argument of hoi)e to all, who, amid whatever circum- stances, are striving to develope the faculties which God has given them, for the glory of the Giver, and the benefit of his creatures, — if there were any thing to tell, or any Ihiug to leave untold, which those Mho knew him best would rather have forgotten, his life wouhl never have been written by me. I am not ignorant, that one who has an heredi- tary right to be his Biographer, is oven ikiw pt rt'onniiiL; that ottice. With his filial labours I presiune not to interfere. Lot the son tell of his father Mhat the son knows of the father. Hoscoc, as a scholar, an author, a politician, and a philanthropist, is public: his praise, and if censure were duo, his censure, is as much a |)ublif ])ro])erty as West- minster Abbey should be. With his more familiar privacy I meddle 3r 482 WILLIAM ROSCOE. no otherwise, than as he who treats of fruits and flowers must necessa- rily say something of tlie soil in which they were grown, and the culture by which they were reared to perfection. Among those men who have attained to literary eminence without tlie ordinary assistance from their elders, Roscoe was especially distin- guished by the variety, and by the elegance of his acquirements. JMost of the self-taught have been men of one talent and one idea — one exclusive passion for one sort of knowledge. Their bias has been much more frequently to the mathematics, physics, or mechanics, than to general literature. The poor classics of Scotland and Germany, such as Adams, Heyne, and Winkelman, are not fairly cases in point ; for though they underwent great toil and privation in obtaining tuition, they did oljtain it, therefore were not self-tauglit. As little to the purpose are the instances of uneducated Poets. For we are not speaking of men who have disjdayed great genius with little culture, but of those who have cultivated their own powers without the customary aids. With respect to the tineducated Poets, however, not many of them are any thing more than nine-days' -wonders. Some gi-eat man, or o-reat lady, finds out that a peasant or menial can tag rhimes; and having at once a most exaggerated notion of the diHiculty of rhiming, and a most contemptuous estimate of the faculties of the lower orders, straightway gives information of a self-taught poet, whom patronage is to select for a victim. But secondly : Far be it from us to deny that there have lived, and are living, true and great poets, who have not only lieen all but desti- tute of tuition, but have been very scantily furnished with book-learning. We do not, however, count Shakspeare in the number; for he was manifestly a great and extensive reader, and got from books whatever could have been of any use to him ; his genius, his intuitive knowledge (»f human nature, concreted by wide and perspicacious observation of human life, his shaping and combining imagination, his electrical fancy, no book coidd supply. The world is still too much in the habit of confounding the absence of regular tuition, with positive ignorance ; though we do hope, that the preposterous folly of dignifying a little, a very little Latin, and very, very, very little Greek (forgotten long ago), with the exclusive name of learning, is far gone in the wane. Indeed there is more need to assert and vindicate the true value of Greek and Roman lore, than to level the by-gone pretensions of its professors. This age has a sad propensity to slay the slain, to fight with wrath and ahu-m against the carcase of extinct prejudices, because some two or three men of genius, and perhaps a score of blockheads, WILLIAM ROSCOE. U]3 are striving to i[:ilvaiiizc tlicni to a postliuinous vitality. iVdinittiiijr, lioMover, that Sliakspeare could not, with thi' assistance of <;raiiiiiiar and dictionary, construe an ode fif Horace, (M-hicli is a jjure and rather ini])ro- haiile assertion, for Latin was then tau^dit far more generally than at present), he certainly was not unacquainted with the ancient authors/* most of which wei-e translated early in Klizaheth's reign, rudely and incorrectly enough it may be, (there was little or no accurate scholarship in Kngland before Jientlev), but still so, that neither the feelings nor the thoughts were wanting. An iincducaled man he was: his mind had never been disciplined, but it was completely armed and anuimni- tioned. Had he been educated, he would perhaps have avoided some few faults, but he would, in all ])rol)ability, have fallen considerably short of his actual excellence, — not that his matter would have been less original (iMilton, in the true sense of the word, is as complete an original as Sliakspeare), but his manner would have been more restrained, more subdued, and therefore would have presented a less exact image of truth ; for he was a man modest and gentle by nature, with little of IMilton's mental hardihood. It was well for him and for mankind, that he did not know how widely he differed from his great predecessors. But though we except Sliakspeare from the list of ludcarncd authors, we a arranged in any order that happens to occur. Hence, its tem]>ting facility has made it a great favourite with many lovers of J)octry, who resort to 492 WILLIAM ROSCOE. poetical composition as an agreeable relaxation after business, or a ])leasant occupation of idle time — as commercial men, retired gentlemen, and country clergymen. In very few of these productions is the description any thing more than the prelude to the reminiscences and reflections, and in some, the locality merely supplies a title. They are no more local or descriptive than Cicero's " Tusculan Questions," or Home Tooke's " Diversions of Purley." Even where the Poet attempts to vie with the landscape painter, his description must be in a great measure vague and general, or it is not intelligible. He does best when he communicates to the reader the feeling which the scene is calculated to inspire ; whether it be of beauty, richness, grandeur, vastness, or of quiet seclusion. He may, indeed, enumerate the objects supposed to be in sight ; he may tell you their shape and colour, and furnish them with a suite of similes ; but, after all, language cannot paint, for it can only present things separately, and in succession, which in nature appear simultaneously, and derive their principal charm from their copresence and coinherence. Painting imitates coex- istence in space ; poetry, like music, expresses succession in time. This may be one reason why the greater number of these poems are about hills, where the gradual ascent produces a succession of prospects, and supplies the want of action. But in the best of them the objects are not pourtrayed as they occur to the eye, but as they rise upon the memory, or connect themselves with the feelings. In fine, we cannot consider the merely loco-descriptive poem as a legitimate work of art. Yet it is pleasing, easily written, and as easily read ; for it demands little care in the author, and little thought in the reader. Young poets are apt to have very exaggerated opinions of the powers of verse to confer immortality. After the lines on IVIount Pleasant, which we have already quoted, Roscoe proceeds thus : The shades of Oroiigar bloom secure of fame ; Edge-hill to Jago owes its lasting fame. When Windsor forest's loveliest scenes decay, Still shall they live in Pope's unrivall'd lay. Led on by hope an equal theme I choose, O, might the subject boast an equal Muse! Then should her name, the force of time defy, When sunk in ruin, Livei-pool shall lie. Really we should have thought that Edge-hill owed its fame quite as much to its being the scene of the first ])itched battle in the civil wars, the place where the gallant Earl of Carnarvon died in defence of royalty, as to its giving name to some indifferent ])lank verse by one Rev. ]Mr. Jago, who owes his own admission among the poets, chiefly to wii.i.iAM Ruscor.. 493 tlie friendship of Slienstoiu". Jorusaleni is not the more secure of fame, because it was the subject of a fSeatonian prize-poem. The real theme of " INIount PU-asaiit " is not IMoiint Pleasant, but Liverpool ; iir rather the connnerce (»f LiverpoiJ, and the money- getting propensities of her inhaiiitants, her new-b(»rn taste for the fine arts, her public institutions, and public sj)irit, Mith incidental reflections on commerce in general, and the slave trade in j)articular, which con)pose by far the most interesting portion of the poem. In dilating on the wrongs of the African, the style ris^es to an indignant fervour which is something better than ])oetical. That a young and hitherto undistinguislied clerk should have ventured so boldly to denounce the traffic to which Liverpool attributed much of her prosperity, indicated no small moral courage. The voice of humanity was then as the voice of one crying in the wilderness; and so far from swelling the luiiversal concert of a nation, was in danger of being drowned amid the hootings of an angry contem])t. We are all too apt to undervalue conunon truths, as if they were common-place truisms, not thaidifully acknowledging the blessing, that the most precious truths are become common-places, interwoven into the texture of thought, and involved in the very logic of speech. But these truths Avere not always common-])laces : time has been when the best of them were regarded as romance, or ])aradox, or heresy, or jargon — when the M'ise shook their heads at them, the fools made mouths at them, when many honestly opposed them, because they held them subversive of elder truth, and too many wickedly hated them, beciiuse they felt and feared them to be true. While we admire the poetic enthusiasm of young Roscoe, and revere the pious indignation of Co\q)er, let us not uncharitably condenui, or intolerantly exconinuuiicate from our esteem, all those who regarded their opinions with suspicion, or even with anger. St. Paul was once as bitter an enemy of Christianity as Alexander the coppersmith. The task of the true philanthropist, the genuine reformer, the enlightened iconoclast, would be easy to the heart, whatever toil and fortitude it nu'ght require, if they were opposed by none but the very foolish, or the very wicked. But they have also to endure the censure of the timid good ; they cannot always avoid the praise and co-ope- ration of the evil. They nuist learn to bear cold and reproachfiil looks from those whom they cannot, should not love the less for reproach or coldness. They nm the risk of being classed with those, who are eager to commit sacrilege under jjretence of cleansing the temple — who would overthrow the tables of the money-changers, in order to have a scramble fur the nmnev. Thev nuist encounter fightings from without 41)4 W ILLIAM ROSCOE. and from witliiii : they will painfully discover the difference Ijctween a dream of sensibility, and a labour of benevolence ; and they may have to labour through a long life without effecting any tangible good ; may wander for years in the desert, and never behold the promised land, even in a Pisgali-view — save Avith the eye of faith ; or having done much, find that all is yet to do. If the days of persecution are past, the rack at rest, the wheel of torture revolve no more, and the fires of Smithfield be quenched for ever, the world has engines still to assault the man that goes about to mend it — calumny, false praise, bribery, poverty, Mitcheries of love, and sundering of loves ; but M'orse than the Avorld, and stronger far, is the bosom fiend Despair. The days are indeed gone by, when the mere announcement of d theory, or abstract position, true or false, was attended with any con- siderable peril to purse or person. The widest diversities of creed hardly produce an interruption of social intercourse, provided that each speculator is content to enjoy and defend his own fancy, without intermeddling by advice or censure, with the conduct of the rest. If any do this, he will be excluded, not as a heathen man and a publican, but as a bore. It is a truly ridiculous instance of vanity, when a modern paradox-monger boasts of his courage and disinterestedness, talks of defying martyrdom, and refusing imoffered bribes, and quotes Galileo and Luther, in proof of his riglit to think as he pleases. But the case is otherwise with practical truths even now ; for practical truths are duties, Mhich, whoever acknowledges, is called upon to act or to abstain. The announcement of these is attended with many heart- burnings even now, it often incurs the forfeiture of patronage, it is frequently treated with contemjituous pity, and sometimes brings down the charge of ingratitude, of all others the most grievous to a good mind. But when Roscoe first raised his voice against slavery, and satirized the commercial spirit of his townsmen, the public were far from being as tolerant as they are at present. The State opposed to him, the Church at best dubious, (with many glorious exceptions among its individual members), the ]\Iultitude decidedly hostile, and easily infuriated. There was, therefore, some courage in avowing his sentiments, even in rhime; at least as much as would be required to write a serious defence of slavery in heroic couplets at the present epoch. We say a serious defence, for there is something sacred in scurrility, and ever has been. Aristophanes was apjjlauded for burles- quing the Gods, in the same Athens where Socrates was murdered for arguing against the absurdities of popular superstition. Yet it must be allowed, that "Mount Pleasant" was published before the French revolution had stamped the brand of Jacobinism on every WILLIAM KOSCOE. 495 struggle for emancipation. Roscoe lived to tlo greater things in behalf of the Negro than writing verses, in seasons, when the cause had far more deadiv enoniics. The lines intruductory to the uoIjIc Ijiirst of feeling on wliitii we have descanted, are a very good sample of what was then accounted the best versification and diction. Goldsmith, rather than Pope, haift the faint head, and bend the imploring eye; Till death in kindness from the tortur'd breast Calls the free spirit to the realms of rest. Shame on mankind, but shame to Britons most. Who all the sweets of liberty can boast ; Yet deaf to every human claim, deny The sweets to others which themselves enjoy, Life's bitter draught with harsher bitter fill. Blast every joy, and add to every ill; The trembling limbs with galling iron bind. Nor loose the heavier bondage of the mind. Yet whence these horrors, this inhuman rage. That brands with blackest infamy the age ? Is it our varied interests disagree. And Britain sinks if Afric's sons be free ? No — Hence a few superfluous stores we claim. That tempt our avarice, but increase our shame. The sickly palate touch with more delight. Or swell the senseless riot of the night Blest were the days ere foreign climes were known. Our wants contracted, and our wealth our own ; When Health could crown, and Innocence endear The temperate meal, that cost no eye a tear; Our drink the beverage of the chrystal flood, Not madly purchased by a brother's blood — Ere the wide spreading ills of trade began. Or luxury trampled on the rights of man. When Commerce, yet an infant, rais'd her head, 'Twas mutual want her growing empire spread. Those mutual wants a distant realm supplied, And like advantage every clime enjoy'd. Distrustless then of every treacherous view, An open welcome met the stranger crew ; And whilst the whitening fleet approach'd to land The wondering natives hail'd them from the strand ; WILLIAM ICOS'JOK. 4U7 Kt»ai'los'< to inert, amidst the tlou of soul, The hirking diiKjttr, or the poisoii'd bowL Now, more destiiictivc lliaii a blightinj,' storm, A bloated monster, Coiiiinerce rears her form ; Throws the nuek olive from her darinj; hand, Grasps tile red sword, and whirls the llaining brand. True to no faith, by no restraints controul'd. By guilt made eautious, and by avariee bold — Can this be she, who proinis'd ouee to bind In leagues of strictest amity, mankind? This fiend, whose breath inflames the spark of strife, And pays with trivial toys the priee of life?" It is easy to soc on what part of tliis effusion I\Ir. Roscoe woultl ever look back with self-congratulation, and wliat his riper judgment taught him to laugli at. lie wouhl soon discover tliat the slave-trade was not protected hy the inveterate devotion of tlie English to rum and sugar, btit by the powerful rested interests engaged in its suj)port, by a false idea of national ]m)sperity, and by the latent apprehensions that the right of men to freedom, admitted in one instance, would prove trwi much, and disturl) that order which, Sir. Pope tells us, is " Heaven's first Law." His view of the rise and progress of commerce, her lovely- infancy, and progressive depravation, is not strictly historical. Shne- trades,-of one kind or other, are among the most ancient of comniercial dealiiiirs: indeed, almost the earliest tradin<; transaction of which we are informed, is the sale of Joseph to the Ishmaelites by his bre- thren. Instead of veiiting his ire against his own generation for continuiiig the slave-trade, Roscoe might have expressed thankfulness that he lived at a time when its enormity began to be acknowledged, and shotdd have remembered that the vague reverence for the past which his diatrilie tended to inculcate, was the strong hold of those mIio sought to perpetuate that trattic in which their forefathers saw no more sin than our Druidical predecessors in roasting a man in an osier colossus. As far as the annals of ctmimerce have come down to us, it woidd seem to have become gradually more humane, as it grew more extensive. Willing to propitiate his townsmen after rebld^ing them, the poet dwells with glowing satisfaction on the literary and scientitic tastes of Liverpool, the improvement of its architecture, (under which heads we are sorry to find a sneer at the Gothic style,) encouragement of the tine arts, &c. above all the public and private virtues of its inhabitants. But we can only alford one more (piotation, which shews a fine eye and considerable descrijitive power. " Far to the ri^lit where Mei-sey duteous pours. To the broad main his tributary stores. 498 WILLIAM ROSCOE. Ting'd with the radiance of the golden bcatn, Sparkle the quivering waves; and midst the gleam. In dirt'erent hues, as sweeps the changeful ray, Pacific fleets their guiltless pomp display; Fair to the sight, they spread the floating sail, Catch the light bree/e, and skim before the gale. Till lessening gradual on the stretching view, Obscure they mingle in the distant blue. Where in soft tints the sky with ocean blends, And on the weaken'd sight, the long, long prospect ends." " IMount Pleasant" certainly does not promise a grtY// poet, but it clearly evinces a mind sufficiently poetical to enjoy and appreciate whatever of poetry is in books, iu pictures, in nature, and in the heart of man. The elegance, and innate gentility of Roscoe's mind is very conspicuous in his selection of Mords and phrases, and has possibly led him to exclude the operative words of the language too strictly from his composition. He Mas afraid of calling things by their right names. His jihraseology, where plain statement is required, reminds one of the silken tackle of Cleopatra's galley. Yet though his words are some- times too line for their business, they always do some work, only it is not precisely the work they are fittest for. He has few superfluous epithets, and hardly one empty line. Perhaps his Italian studies had given him a distaste for the homeliness of his native tongue ; but indeed it Mas not the fashion in 1770, for poets to M'rite English. Percy's ballads set some to mimic the anticpie turns of phrase, but Cowper Mas the first, after Churchill, mIio ventured to versify the English of his OM^n day. In 1772, a small society was formed in Liverpool "for the encourage- ment of designing, draMing, and painting," of M'hich Mr. Roscoe M'as the prime promoter and most active member, while it continued in existence ; but its date Mas short, its dissolution being hastened by the loss of an influential member mIio Ment to reside in Germany. Before this short-lived institute ]Mr. Roscoe recited an ode, which introduced him to the puljlic as a lyric poet. A faw copies M'ere printed for private distribution in 177'^? M'hich had the fortune to win the approbation of the '•' iVIonthly Review," M'hereby the author Mas tempted to annex it to his publication of " Mount Pleasant," iu 1777- Though not without strong indications of the writer's juvenility, and a savour of the taste of the times, this ode indisputably proves that Roscoe had already acquired one of the highest accomplishments of the poet, the art of expressing abstract thought ])oeticalIy. If there be some partiality in the preference given to the silent muse over her vocal sisters, it might be deemed a compliment due to the occasion. WILLIAM UOSCOli. -191) Copies of verses called odes have always Ijoeu miineroiis, aii;lit one day be enijiloved in filling the streets and squares with teni})les and palaces, in calling forth the genius of sculpture and painting, in aiding the researches of science, and collecting the treasures of learning ; and per- haps no history speaks more in favour of true freedom than that of the Florentine family, who Avere more than monarchs, while they were con- tent to be citizens, but became exiles, or dependent tyrants, when they coidd no longer brook ecpiality. Though many years elapsed before this great work of Roscoe's life was finished, many perhaps, before a ])age Avas written as it now appears, yet the inmiense variety of labori- ous reading which the "Lorenzo" and the " Leo" display, evince that the purpose never slumbered, that in the brief vacations of a busy existence, he was indefatigably collecting materials which his more per- fect leisure was to cast into form. Yet was he not so devoted to his " opus magnum," but his pen was ever ready Avhcn occasion called for its use. His jiolitical pam])hlets were numerous, and though there may be diversities of opinion res])ect- ing the wisdom of his views, there is none as to the urbanity and temperance with which he advanced them. Many of his productions of this kind were anonymous, but he never wrote what he wished to deny. In the year 17875 lie appeared as the champion of justice in the great cause of the abolition of the slave-trade, to promote Avhich he put forth tAvo tracts : the first, entitled " Original view of the African slave-trade, demonstrating its injustice and impolicy, Avith hints toAvards a bill for its abolition." The second was of a more controversial charac- ter. The Rev. Raymond Harris, a Roman Catholic clergyman, had ])ublished a pamphlet called " Scriptural researches on the licit- ness of the slave-trade," containing, Ave presume, the same plausible argiunents Avhich are repeated in the same interest to this day, to the perfect satisfaction of slavery-loving consciences ; argiunents occa- sionally adorned A\ith an imposing display of Greek and HebrcAV type. (We have seen a passage of the Talmud, in the original language, (piotcd in a ncAvs paper.) It must be admitted that if slavery be a sj)irit never to be cast out but by a text commanding him to come out by his Greek or HebreAv name, he may possess the body of society till it be dissolved at the general doom. If the slave-traders and slaAe-buyers are jiroof against the spirit, they may safely defy the letter. But yet they Avould do Avisely to rely solely upon the negatiAe, as the Avorthy ordinary of NeAvgate, in his last intervicAV Avith Jonathan Wild, defended his pre- ference of pinich on the ground that nothing Avas said against it in Scripture. When they appeal to the Bible for a positive justification WILLIAM ROSCOE. -305 (tf slavery, tliey oiiirlit to ciKiuiro wlicther aiiytliiiif]^ similar to modern culuniul slavery existed when the Bihie Mas writteij. i\Iere bond-ser- vice, or territorial vassala. The downfall of the jOH WILLIAM ROSCOE. Bastile, "with all its horrid towers," echoed throiigliout Europe, and one voice of gratuhition was heard above all the l)odings of the fearful, the grumblings of the dull, the coward outcries of the selfish, and the sighs of the better few, that, Avhile they abhorred oppression, and coveted not privilege, yet knew in their hearts " that the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God." It could not be but that Roscoe, loving liberty as he loved the human race, with a soul cheerful as day-light, and hopeful as spring, should join the joyful chorus. To see a monarch, descended from a long line of sensual despots, co-operate with a nation, long idolatrous of despotism, in realizing a perfect free- dom upon earth — a freedom embodied in laws and institutions, which should be the limbs, organs, and senses of the moral will — whose vital heat was universal love, was too great, too glorious, too new a spectacle to give him time for doubt or question. The black and portentous shadow which the past ever throws on the future, fell beyond his sphere of vision. Whatever of pain or violence attended the nativity of the deliverance, ])ain, which he deserved to suffer who would not gladly suffer for such a cause, and violence most justifiable, if vengeance ever could be justifiable, seemed no more than the constant law of nature, which sets a price on every good, as the birth pangs of happi- ness, or the dying struggles of tyranny. "Oh! Times In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways Of custom, law, and statute took at once The attraction of a country in romance, When Reason seem'd the most to assert her rights When most intent ou making of herself A prime enchantress — to assist the work Which then was going forward in her name. Not favoured spots alone, but the whole earth The beauty wore of promise, that which sets The budding rose above the rose full blown. What temper at the prospect did not wake To happiness unthought of? The inert Were roused, and lively natures rapt away ! Those who had fed their childhood upon dreams. The playfellows of fancy, who had made All powers of swiftness, subtlety, and strength Their ministers — who in lordly wise had stirred, And dealt with whatsoever they found there, As if they had within some lurking right To wield it : — they too, who of gentle mood, Had watch'd all gentle motions, and to those Had fitted tlieir own thoughts, schemers more mild, And in the regions of their peaceful selves. WILLIAM ROSCOE. ,",01) Now was it that both foiinil, the intek and lofty, iJid Ijoth find h'dpirs to thtir hcarLs' dcsiii', And sturt" at hand, plajitic as they could wish, — Were called upon to exercise their skill, Not in I'topia — subterraneous fields — Or some secreted island — Heaven knows where, But in the very world, which is the world Of all of us — the place where in the end A\'e find our happiness, or not at all. — Wordsworth. So a great spirit describes his own emotions at tlic first heavings of tliut great convulsion, the gladness of his own young hopes — hopes which he was not quick to relinquish, when many years of bloodshed had ])assed over them, Roscoe never disowned his at all ; but ackno\»-- ledging that there was, from the beginning, an evil element in the revolution, continued to ascribe the temporary predominance of that evil to the hostility which the established powers of Europe had shewn to the good. Time doubtless al)ated much of the greatness of his expectations, and thfiugh he lived to hear of the three days of 1830, he would hardly, had his pulse been as strong, and his heart as light, at the one period as the other, have sung a strain so blithe as his " O'er the vine-covered hills and gay vallies of France." or his, " Unfold Father time, thy long records unfold," M'hich Avere produced in 1789, and recited at a meeting assembled to celebrate the emancipation of France. But the stream of his hopes, though it flowed with a weaker current, never changed its direction. It was to renovation and progression, not to restoration, or immobility, that he looked for the increase of human hap]>iiiess. At the same time, there is no evidence that at any time he adopted levelling opinions, or Avished to release mankind from any portion of the moral law acknow- ledged for ages. It is needless to say, that he was clear of all partici- pation, in wish or Avill, with the massacres and executions of the Jacobins, and with the ambitious wars of their successors. If he erred, he erred in judgment, not in heart, and chiefly erred in attributing too much of the French atrocities to foreign interference, and too little to the national irreligion, which grcAV, and Mas growing, long before the revolution, and which made the revolution what it was, instead of what it ought to have been. Ill can he determine the rights of man, Avho denies the immortality of man, from Avhich all rights, as well as duties, flow. He that Mould make earth likest Paradise nuist make it a mirror reflecting Heaven.* Perhaps Roscoe erred also in thinking * It is absurd to r>ptak of ineliiriou tu. an iiitiitvduilc cflcct of political changes. •510 WILLIAM llOSCOE. peace practicable after it had ceased to be so. But we must return to our narrative. In the first A'cars of the revohition, and k)ng after, Mr. Roscoe held much epistolary correspondence with the late Marquis of Lansdowne, and other wliig leaders, on the subject of parliamentary reform, a cause he had much at heart. It is said that this correspondence proves that it was no " bit by bit" reform that the noble wliigs of those days advocated. But the times were growing unfavourable to reforms of all sorts. French affairs took a murderous asjiect. Alarm s])read far and wide. The court, tlie church, the great body of the aristocracy, the elder and sager portion of the middle orders, the rustic population in general, and in many places the town populace, combined against the new opinions, which, like most opinions tending to change, were very miscellaneously supported by the noblest and the basest minds; by those who deemed too highly of the dignity of human nature, and by those who quarrelled with every thing that distinguishes man from beast, by those who could not think, and by those who could do nothing but think ; by the most imaginative poets and the most absolute prose- men ; by the most ascetic and the most sensual ; by souls whose faith was the most spiritual, and by creatures M'hose materialism was most atheistic. It is true, there was no agreement of doctrine among this motley tribe, nor did they coalesce, or attempt to coalesce, for any definite purpose : but they did agree in one thing, that the social system was not as good as it might be, and for this they were indiscri- minately subjected to the ban of the church and state, and of the loyal and orthodox in all orders. And as the heathen slandered tlie Catholic Church with all the insanities and abominations of all the heretics that usurped the Christian name ; so, under the common name Jacobin, every supposed favourer of French freedom was charged with every dogma that any Jacobin could hold. The sans culottes M'ere reproached with metaphysics, and the metaphysicians with having no breeches. The abolition of the slave-trade was coupled with the equal division of property ; and men were accused of craving for wholesale butchery, who condemned all homicide, even in self-defence. Though there is reason to think that the really ill-disposed Jacobins, who lioped or wished for an English revolution, were uot at that time No man who ever truly believed in his Maker and RiKleemer, would cease to believe, though throne and altar were to perish together. A revolution which destroys the means of religious education, will ultimately produce irreligion, but this must be a work of time. And surely the Church, if it fall, must fall for want of Religion, not Religion for want of the Church. WILLIAM ROSCOE. ;111 numerous, and that tliose wlio took any measures to promote it were fewer still, yet they were quite noisy, boastful, proflijiatc, and fero- cious enougli to strike a panic into the weIl-nioanin<;, and induce the better sort tn apjjrove of stroiiff measures, to which in cooler times they would have been opposed. Their fears, though not their affections, confounded the philosophers and the blackguards ; the reformers, who wished to remove the causes of revolution, and the anarchists, who loved destruction for its own sake. They did not, ])erhaps, account them etpially bad, Init they felt them ecpially dreadful. Every arrival from France brought intelligence of new horrors. The daring energy of Pitt, and the ehxpient denunciations of Burke, gathered the friends of social order together under their banners, and there was nothing which the English nation would not have surrendered, had the states- men been as wicked as their enemies have represented them. Never, since Charles the Second, had England been in such danger of enslaving itself by excess of loyalty. The friends of liberty among the educated orders thought it right to counteract this excess, by a free declaration of their opinions. Accord- ingly, in 17i^'2, when the town of Liverpool prepared an address of thanks for INIr. Pitt's proclamation against sedition, JMr. Roscoe and his friends succeeded in carrying a coiuiter-])etition. The mol> rose the next day, broke into the place where it lay for signature, and tore it to pieces ! Verily, John JJull is nuich changed in the course of forty years, whether for the worse or the better. It does not appear that JMr. Roscoe was in danger of personal violence, or that Liverpool imitated the outrages of Birmingham. But Roscoe was a townsman, and a layman ; Priestley a stranger, and a dissenting minister. Now the English mob, when they assault any party or comnniiiity, always select the clergy of that party for peculiar ill-usage. There is nothing political or religious in this; it is a mere antipathy, like that of a turkey-cock to scarlet— aggravated, it must be allowed, by ballads and caricatures. The moment a man, however poor or ignorant, begins to be of any religion, he ceases to be one of the mob, ]Mob passions are not absolutely confined to the living aggregations in the streets. Party spirit ran so high in Liverjxiol at this time, that a small literary society, of which IMr. Roscoe, Dr. Currie, Mr. Shepherd, and others were members, found it necessary to dissolve, lest the purpose of their meeting should be misrepresented to the govern- ment. When the Anti-jacobin war broke out, its commencement was followed by numerous bankruptcies, and commercial distress. Mr, Roscoe, wishing to deduce good from evil, attempted, by investigating ;',12 WILLIAM ROSCOE. tlie causes, and magnifying the evils of this distress, to dispose the nation, especially the nionied part of it, without whose assistance the war could not be carried on, to more pacific counsels. With this intent, he published, in 1793, an anonymous pamphlet, entitled, " Thoughts on the Causes of the present Failures." It is short (the fourth edition, which we have before us, contains thirty pages), written M-ith much perspicuity and amenity, but rather less vigoui* and earnest- ness than might have been expected from the author on such a topic. In truth, it is throughout an argumentum ad hominem, or which in England is the same thing, ad cnimcnam, designed to demonstrate the commercial impolicy of a contest which the author reprobated on far higher grounds. With this view, he enters upon an explanation of the system of paper credit, accommodation, and bills of exchange, which he deems essential to the commercial life of England, — and shews how tliat credit is necessarily affected by war, whereby the fictitious, or more properly ideal, capital perished along with the confidence which it really represented. Of the justice or injustice of the war he says not a word. He only hints at the absurdity of stopping the circulation of the body politic, on account of the shutting of the Scheldt^ which he must have known was not the real cause of the war. Throughout he preserves the utmost sang-froid. Not an angry, hardly a pathetic expression escapes him. He alludes to the slave-trade, but instead of inveighing against its wickedness, simply mentions that " the trade to Africa has been carried on for a few years past, with an avidity natur- ally arising in the minds of mercantile men, from the apprehensions that it would not long be permitted to continue ; " and states a fact, of which we cei'tainly were previously ignorant, that the bills of exchange with which the planters paid for the slaves, were drawn at a longer date than most others, sometimes payable at the end of three years. The reason is, however, sufiiciently obvious : slave labour must take so long to be converted into money. But what is more remarkable, is the evidence, that Roscoe woidd have signed a petition for peace, even if it had emanated from the slaveholders. One of the ablest and most interesting passages is that in which, having pronounced that "war is the cause of our calamities, and peace is the only cure," and glanced at the little we had done for the cause in which we were embarked at so much loss and hazard, he points out the needlessness of the confiict, and the circumstances which rendered it pecidiarly ruinous. " Let us, hoM'ever, forget what is past, and regard ^vith a steady eye our present situation. Driven M'ithin the limits of their own country, and probably on the brink of a civil war, the French are no longer formidable, and the object for which Great Britain engaged in the WILLIAM ROSCOE. .)13 war is now accomplislied. To proceed furtlier would be to defeat tlie end whicli the minister professed t(i have in view, and to destroy, not to preserve, the hahince of power in Europe. "It is not difficult to f(»resee an ol)jecti(»n on the part of those who are reluctant to acknowledge the truths here atteinj)ted to be inforced. If our misfortunes, say they, are occasioned by the war, whence comes it, that the same events have not taken place under the same circum- stances on former occasions ? The short answer to this, is a denial of the truth of the pro])osition contained in the tpiestion. Have we so soon forgotten the disasters occasioned by oiu- contest with America ? The depreciation of landed property, the fall of the public funds, and the innumerable inconveniences attendant on the destruction of credit ? The evils which this country then experienced, and those which we now so intensely feel, are similar in their nature, and different only in degree ; our present sufferings being augmented by many causes, some of them perhaps imaginary, but not on that account less aggravating. The enormous extent of our commerce, whilst it increased the proba- bility of the explosion, rendered the consequences of it, when it once took place, more general. Again, it was presumed that the war was not, as on former occasions, to be carried on in distant j)arts of the globe, for ascertaining the boundaries of a desert, or determining the right to a barren island : * but was supposed to be commenced by an enraged and powerful enemy, and to be waged at our own doors, for the purpose of depriving us of whatever we held dear and sacred. Even at the first onset, we were witness to a vigorous attack on the territories of an ally, with whom we stand closely connect )d in our commercial transactions. In addition to these considerations, no arti- fices were spared by the advocates for a war, to impress on the minds of their countrymen at large, an idea that many of their countrymen — men of rank, of talents, and of influence — were attached to the cause of our adversaries. Insurrections were alluded to that never had exist- ♦The allusion here is to the renewal of war in 1756, on account of the boundary lines of Canada and Nova-Scotia, and to the dispute of the Falkland Islands, in 1770, which, however, passed over without fighting. Petty reasons enough ior war, if they had been the real reasons, or if war could have been averted by surrendering the points in dispute. But the fact is, that neither Nova-Scotia, nor the Falkland Islands, nor the Scheldt (though that river seems destined to gain as warlike a name as Rubicon), nor Malta, were the real causes or objects of war. Commercial supre- macy and continental influence were the white elephants for which we shed our blood and treasure. Philosophically examined, the disputes of mankind will generally be found to be less silly, and more wicked, tliau is generally supposed. When Young called Satan a dunce, he was a dunce himself 3 T -)14 WILLIAM ROSCOE. ence, and plots were denounced, that finished where they began — in the fertile l)rain of the informer. Such are the pecidiarities that distinguish this Mar from those in M'hich Britain had before been enijaged, and it Mould be astonishing indeed, if exertions so indus- triously made, and so pointedly calculated to destroy all confidence amongst us, political, moral, and commercial, should totally have failed of effect." On the whole, it is doubtful whether this M-ell-meant pamphlet was, or was not calculated to be very effective. Men — many men at least — are easily seduced through their purses ; but it is not through their purses that they are soonest tamed. It is the advice of Machiavelli, never to make war on a nation in the hope of exhausting its finances. In like manner, never expect that commercial losses, or the dread of poverty, will induce a nation to submit to peace. It may be, that many persons — it may be that ]Mr. Roscoe himself — looked M'itli secret satisfaction at the increasing list of bankrupts in those disastrous years ; that they shook their heads incredulously when they M'ere told that markets were looking up ; and watched the fall of the funds as wistfully as a farmer, whose crops are perishing of drought, would obser\e the fall of the mercury. Not that they did not love their country, but because they hoped that failures and losses would starve out the military fever, and stop a contest, for the success vhereof they could not conscientiously pray. But M'hatever vices Avealth may bring, it is not by poverty, or the apprehension of poverty, that they are to be cured. As well might you expect to cure a populace of drinking by lowering their Mages. Children may steal or famish, M'ife turn beggar or prostitute, pot and pan, saw and hammer, go to the paMnbroker's : as long as a penny can be raised, the drunkard Mill have his drop ; nor Avill his own hunger and nakedness, his bleared eye and palsied hand, nor his shame and remorse M'ork his reformation. War is the drunkenness of states, and when once they are debauched with its poison, they Mill have it, let it cost what it may. Credit may perish, specie fly the country or hide its head, rent and tithe become, like Demogorgon, a horrible name M'ithout a substance, the manufac- turers be as idle as their rusting machinery, yet noisy as it M'as M'hen in full employment, the bankrupt merchant vainly seek a book-keeper's place, the labourers roam about in grim hungry bands, demanding charity with cvu-scs, the paupers breed a pestilence, and die of their own multitude (but they are very hard to kill), and the middle order disappear, or be represented by a few tottering old bachelors, a few angular-visaged spinsters, " Fii thread-bare finery, fifty fashions old," UII.I.IAM HOSCUK. .")!.'» and an iiKlcliiiiU! ihiiiiIkt of ncws-writcrs, painplik'toers, ami victory- jJurtVr.s, who write ^cnlh-man after their names, because the law has never recognized their occupation. Noliility itself may bejriii to find that all is not as it used to be. Still, the sinews of wiir will be found so long iis a tax or a loan can be wrenched from the people. Every little victory renews the national vanity, and every discomfiture revives the national resentment. ' The losing gamester plays on t(t retrieve his loss. ]\Ir. Roscoe probably did not foresee (or rather it was not to liis purj)ose to foresee) that the very paj)er credit \\ hich he esteemed as the locomotive faculty of trade, Avould increase many-fold during the Mar which appeared to destroy it; would become the main support of that war, and, in the opini(»n of many, its greatest evil. The following reflections furnish matter for thought at the present aera : — "To enter into an enquiry at the present day, into the advantages or disadvantages which any country derives from an extensive foreign trade, \roul(l be to no purpose Probably in the result of such a question it might apjieai-, that there is a certain limit, beyond Mhich commerce ceases to be lucrative, and increases the risque without increasing the profit. But a train of events, of m hicli it Mould l>e useless to point out the causes, have brought us into a situation in M'hich that commerce, M'hether abstractedly desirable or not, is Ijecome indisjiensable to ns. Those who condemn the enterprising spirit of our merchants, the innnense extent of credit, and the consequent circulation of ])a])er. Mould do mcII to consider, that a sum not less than £17,000,000 is, even during the continuance of peace, annually to be raised in this country for Mhat are called the exigencies of the state ; a siun not raised Mithout some ditlicult)-, even during the most floiwishing periods of our commerce. HoMever desirous Ave may be to tread back our steps from the dangerous eminence to Mhicli we have xuKuvares attained, and to regain once more the safer track that Minds through the forsaken valley. Me find ourselves surrounded on every side by precipices that forbid our retreat. The diminution of our connnerce will occasion a diminution in the revenue, mIucIi must be * This we believe is hardly an exaggerated statement of the condition of France in the latter years of the succession war. If we refer to elder times, it is a very faint picture of the state of Scotland in the reign of David the Second, or of France during the wars of the Edwards and Henrj-s. Nor was F.ngland, though free from a foreign invader, free from sufferings that severely punished her persevering injustice. Yet the statesmen who put a slop to tliese horrors, were tlien held up to popular hatred us traitors. 516 \VlLLIAM ROSCOE. supplied from other sources, and it is not difficult to foresee what those sources are. Hence, perliaps it is eventually not less the interest of the landed than of the trading part of the community, to support a system which, however introduced, is not only become essential to our prosper- ity, but to our existence ; and heartily to concur in the common cause ; if not till we conquer the difficulties that surround us, at least till we can effect a safe and honourable retreat. "It is not uncommon to find those who have been the loudest in extolling the riches, security, and happiness of the nation, attempting to console themselves under the pressure of misfortunes which they cannot but feel, by attributing the present calamity to the improper extension of paper credit : according to their idea, the present is only the subsiding of a tumour which had already increased beyond all bounds, by which the body politic was soon to be restored to a better state of health. But may we be permitted to ask these political optimists, what then was the origin and support of that unexampled series of prosperity which it seems this nation has of late years enjoyed ? Without the assistance of paper credit, can it be pretended that the manufactures of Great Britain could have been circulated to foreign parts, or the produce of foreign countries have been imported into Great Britain, even to one lifth of the extent that has actually taken place.? Or would the minister have been enabled to exult monthly and weekly over the amount of his revenue ? Either this felicity was visionary and ideal, or, being real and substantial, has been incautiously undermined and overthrown." In another part of the pamphlet, Mr. Roscoe is rather severe upon the Bank of England, for contracting their discounts, when it would have been so much more public-spirited to liave extended them, and instead of " shewing the example of confidence," " leading the way of pusillanimitj'." We have heard and read the same complaint over and over again, but on its justice we are not moneyed enough ourselves to decide. Public bodies hold a trust which hardly permits them to be generous, if by generosity be meant a sacrifice of their corporate inte- rest for the benefit of others ; and if generosity do not mean this, it is a word without meaning, or at best, only a kind of speculative self- ' interest. If chartered companies aggrandize themselves at the expense of the community, or withhold from the state assistance which it may justly claim, the national government, not the company's directors, are to blame. Still, even upon self-interested principles, there can be no Avorse policy than over-caution. Though the style of this pamphlet is easy, unaffected, and purely English, and the matter in the main sensible, it is only in a very few WILLIAM ROSCOi;. olj passages that we discover an indication of tlie powers M'liich two years afterwards a])|)eared in the " Life of Lorenzo , printed hy John ]\rCrecry of Liverpool, and met with a reee])tion that amply rewarded the author for his long, hut pleasant lahour. It was almost immediately translated into the principal European languages : it was hailed with delight hy the Italians, compliments showered in from all ipiarters, and I\Ir. Roscoe was installed among classical historians. Perhaps the most valuahle, certainly the most pleasing, part of the hook, is the information it atlords on the revival of ancient, and the growth of modern Italian literature, together with the origin and progress of Italian art. We scarcely remember a work in \vhich, with so few excresences, there is so much incidental and collateral knowledge displayed, — so many little facts, so many traits of manners, so much that is not to he found elsewhere, which you would not expect to rind there, where, notwithstanding, it is strictly relevant, and in its jdace. The singular characters, wonderful industry, and everlasting quarrels of the early scholars, who, if their mutual reports of each other are to he trusted, must have been the vilest set of miscreants that ever existed, compose a pleasant underplot; and the well-blended virtues and tjdents of Lorenzo himself, always great and always amiable, whether in public or in private, constitute a green spot in the waste of history, which certainly has every advantage of contrast with the dark mazes of Italian policy he was compelled to thrid. Roscoe has been accused of flattering his hero ; but if the portrait be not altogether ideal, never since our English Alfred has any state been guided b\' a man so good and so all-accomplished. But alas ! the transactions of Florence, even duriui; his life, and yet more the calamities Mhich fol- lowed his decease, do but confirm the lesson wliich the Antonines had taught before, how insutlicient are the excellencies of an individual, though vested with sovereign power, to remedy the radical evils of a bad constitution. The fame and prorit derived from this publication finally determined Mr. Roscoe to reliiKpiish liis business as a solicitor. At one time, he had thoughts of being called to the bar, and actually entered himself of Grey's Inn. But in this intention he did not persevere. He bad already formed the design of continuing the history of the IMedici through the pontificate of Leo X. ; and having now acromotion of such public objects as he deemed most worthy and desirable. 518 WILLIAM ROSCOF-. In 170(1, lie produced a pamphlet with a title Avhich to sonic may seem portentous, if not profane, — " Expostire of Ike Fallacies of Mr. Burke." In 1797, ill '1 visit to London of some continuance, he made the ac(piaintance and acquired the friendship of Mr. Fox, My., now Lord Grey, and several other persons of note in politics and literatuTe, among whom was Dr. IMoore, author of " Zeluco," whose familiarity with Italian manners, so vividly painted in his " Sketches of Manners," must have made his society both pleasant and profitable to our author. In the same year, Mr. Koscoe translated the "Balia" of Tansillo, a sportive poem of that sort which peculiarly suits the genius of the Italian language, though it has of late been transplanted, and has flourished in our " bleak Septemtrion blasts." Still, English humour is not Italian humour ; and English playfidncss, if not tightly reined in, is very apt to degenerate into horse-plaij We have not seen either the original of Tansillo, nor Mr. Roscoe's version ; but we are sure that Roscoe would never forget the gentleman in his mirth, or translate what had better never have been written. The year 1798 saw the institution of the Liverpool Athena;um, first projected by Dr. Ruttcr, but to the establishment of M-hich ]\Ir. Roscoe maiidy contributed, and continued, to the end of his life, to take a warm interest in its welfare. Finding his time at Liverpool too much interrupted by visits and invitations, he resolved to retire into the country, thinking a rural retreat favourable to his mental and bodily health, and to the gratifica- tion of that love of nature, and passion for agricultural pursuits, which began in his boyhood. With this view, he purchased half the estate of Allerton, from the trustees of i\Irs. Hardman, and became, in the liest sense of the word, a country gentleman. His pleasant anticipations from this change are happily expressed in a comic letter to Fuseli the painter. It is much to be regretted that he was ever induced to depart from this rational scheme of happiness and usefulness, and to launch into the world again. But yet the alteration of his course redounded to his honour; for it arose neither from restlessness, infirmity of purpose, avarice, nor ambition, but was a sacrifice of his own leisure and wishes, for the benefit of his friends. Abont 1800, a period of general calamity and threatened famine, the affairs of Messrs. J. and W. Clarke, bankers, fell into considerable disorder. JMr. Roscoe was requested to lend his professional aid to their arrangement, and in conducting this business he was brought in contact with Sir Benjamin Hammet, banker, of London, a man who knew the ytowcr of money, and whose inieasy assumption of dignity, WILLIAM KOSCOR. r>][) under the lioinmrs of kiii;^Iitli(»(j(l, was the tlicino of much small wit. Sir Benjamin was so nnich struck with Mr. Koscoe's adroitness in unravelling the perplexed accounts of the embarrassed concern, that he insisted on that gentleman's becoming a partner of the bank, and threat. ened to make it bankrupt in case of refusal. Perhaps Sir Benjamin had an eye to Mr. Koscoe's property, as well as to his skill, but at all events, as he held acceptances to the amount of £2()(),<)(M>, he was able to put his threat in execution, and J\lr. Roscoe reluctantly consented to avert it, having previously satisfied himself of Messrs. Clarke's ability to meet all demands, if proper time were given. Thenceforth he devoted the hours of business to attendance at the bank, and the hours of relaxation to the studies necessary to perfect his " Leo." In 1802, he succeeded in establishing a Botanic Garden at Liver- pool, which, under the superintendence of its able curator, I\Ir. John Shepherd, has prospered exceedingly, to the great advantage of botanical science. His interest in politics never slumbered. In the same year, 1802, he put forth a pamphlet "On the Relative Situation of' France and England." His earnest endeavours for peace exposed him for many years of his life to considerable obhujuy, and made some good men, who loved and esteemed him, esteem his judgnsent the less. He certaiidy, like Cicero, was disposed to think the worst peace better than the best war; and knowing that the government could not long carry on the war if the people firndy demanded peace, and that the people were stimidated to battle chictlv by their indignation against the atrocities, and l)y their alarm at the ambition, of the enemy, he naturally sought to soften the national animosity, by palliating the conduct of the French, and representing the danger of the conflict as greater than the danger of a compromise. Perhaps he did not sufficiently observe how com- pletely the war changed its character and object in its progress ; but continued to contemplate it as an interference with the right of the French to constitute tlieir own government, long after all thought of such interference had been abandoned. The year 1805 brought forth the "Life and Pontificate of Leo X." in four volumes quarto. This Roscoe esteemed liis great work, but it was by no means so favourably received in England as its predecessor. The partiality which had found a ready sympathy when directed to the Florentine merchant, M'as harshly censured when it devolved on the more questionable cliaracter of his son ; and it was argued, that no patronage of art, or liberality to genius, should have lM?en allowed to expiate the many offences of the dissolute free-thinking Pope, whose sale of indulirences aroused the wrath of Luther. Yet harder measure 520 WILLIAM ROSCOE. O was dealt to Roscoe's alleged palliation of the crimes of Alexander VI. and his family, nor was he supposed to have done justice to the virtues of Luther. It is impossible to examine these objections in this place, but as far as regards Pope Alexander and his daughter," Me may observe, that tliere is a considerable difference between palliating crimes, and doid)ting whether they had ever been committed ; that to believe in monstrous wickedness, on insufficient evidence, indicates any thing but a healthy moral sense ; and that Roscoe had probably consulted more authorities, and weighed them more carefully, than any of his reviewers. As for Luther, he was not a man after Roscoe's own heart: there was little sympathy between them. Luther, though above his time, Mas still a man of his time, and it was not, even in the sunny realms of art and poesy, an age of soft speaking. Roscoe would have made as bad a reformer as Erasmus. These objections fell not unawares on our author. He had both anticipated and provided against them in his preface. His occasional deviations from received opinions of persons and things, he defends M'ith spirit, eloquence, and a just sense of an historian's duty. "With respect to the execution of the following Mork, I cannot but be M'ell aMare, that many circumstances and characters Mill be found represented in a light somewhat different from that in which they have generally been viewed, and that I may probably be accused of having suffered myself to be induced by the force of prejudice, or the affectation of novelty, to remove what have hitherto been considered as the land-marks of history. To imputations of this kind I feel the most perfect indifference. Truth alone has been my guide, and whenever she has steadily diffused her light, I have endeavoured to delineate the * Lucretia, daughter of Pope Alexander VI. and Vanozza, sister to Csesar Borgia. The charges against this lady are comprised in the following epitaph, written by an author whom she survived twenty years, which we shall give without translation : Hie jacet in tumulo Lucretia nomine, sed re Thais. Alexandri fiUa, sponsa, nurus. PONTANUS. Sanuazarius also thus addresses her : Ergo te semper cupiet, Lucretia, Sextus. O Fatum diri numinis, hie pater est ! a conceit, which hinging on an equivoque between Sextus Tarquinius and Alexander Sextus, i. e. the Sixth, is impossible as it is unworthy to be translated. Mr. Roscoe, in a dissertation subjoined to the first volume of his "Leo," has elaborately, and in our opinion convincingly, exposed the no-evidence on which accusations so abhorrent have been repeated from age to age. Like all men of good heails and innocent lives, he was averse to admit the existence of monstrous depravity in any, most of all in woman. WILLIAM IIOSCOK. 521 objects 111 tlioir real form and t-olour. History is tlic record of the experience of mankind in tlieir most iniimrtant concerns. If it Ijc impossible for bnman sairacity to estimate the consecjuences of a false- hood in private life, it is ecpially impossiljle to estimate the consequences of a false or partial representation of the events of former times. The conduct of the present is regulated by the experience of the past. « * * -r^ ' * * * If those in hi;,di autliority Ije better informed than otliers, it is from this source that their information must l)e drawn ; and to pollute it is, therefore, to poison the only channel through which we can derive that knowledge, which, if it can be obtained pure and unadulterated, cannot fail in time to purify the intellect, expand the powers, and improve tl»e condition of the human race. "As in speaking of the natural world, there arc some persons who are disposed to attribute its creation to cliance, so, in speaking of the moral world, there are some M-ho arc inclined to refer the events and Huctua- tions in human affairs to accident, and are satisfied with accounting for them from the common course of things, or the spirit of the times. But as chance and accident, if they have any meaning whatever, can only mean the operation of causes not hitherto fully investigated, or distinctly understood, f^o the spirit of //jc imc? is only another phrase for causes and circumstances which have not hitherto been sufficiently explained. It is the province of the historian to trace and to discover these causes ; and it is only in proportion as he accomplishes this object, that his labours are of any utility. An assent to the former opinion may indeed gratify our indolence, but it is only from the latter method that we can expect to acquire true knowledge, or to be able to apply to futiu-e conduct the information derived from past events." Some of the attacks of the censors were of a tndy nihblinis character. Yet these also he had foreseen, and hoped to crush them in the cg^. He was found fault with for spelling Italian names as they were s])elt in Italy, not as they had come to England in a Frenchified or Latinized form. This he ably justifies. "The practice which I have heretofore adopted of designating the Scholars of Italy by their national api)ellations, has given rise to some animadversions, in answer to which I must beg to remark, that whoever is conversant with history, mnst frequently have observed the ditficulties which arise from the wanton alterations in tlie names both of persons and of places, by authors of dirterent countries, and particularly by the French, who, without scruple, accommodate every thing to the genius of their own laniruaire. Hence the names of all the eminent men of Greece, of Rome, or (»f Italy, are melted down, and appear again in :{ i; 522 WILLIAM ROSCOE. sudi a form as in all probability Avould not have been recognized by . their proper owners; Uionysius if i^e»?/*y Titus Livius, TiteLive;^' Horatius, Horace ; Pctrarca, Peirarqiic, and Pico of IMirandola, Pic de Miraiidu/c. As the literature which this country derived from Italy was Jirst obtained through the medium of the French, our early authors, followed them in this respect, and thereby sanctioned those innovations which the nature of our language did not require. It is still more to be reffretted that we are not iniiform even in our abuse. The name of Horace is familar to the English reader, but if he wei-e told of the t/u-ee Horaces, he would ])robably be at a loss to discover the persons meant, the authors of our country having generally given them the appellation of the Horatii. In the instance of such names as were familiar to our early literature, we adopt with the French the abbreviated appellation; but in latter times we usually employ proper national distinctions, and instead of Arioste, or Metastase, we write without hesitation, Ariosto, Metastasio. This inconsistency is more sensibly felt, when the abbre- viated appellation of one scholar is contrasted with the national distinction of another, as Mhen a letter is addressed by Petrarch to Coluccio Saluiati, or by Politian to Hermolao Barharo, or Baccio Ugolini. For the sake of uniformity it is surely desirable that every writer should conform as much as possible to some general rule, which can only be found by a reference of every pi'oper name to the standard of its proper country. This method would not only avoid the incongruities before mentioned, but would Ije productive of positive advantages, as it would in general point out the nation of the person spoken of, without the necessity of further indication. Thus in mentioning one of the Monarchs of France, who makes a conspicuous figure in the ensuing pages, I have not denominated him Lodovico XII. with the Italians, nor Lewis XII. Avith the English, but Louis XII. the name which he himself recognized. And thus I have also restored to a celebrated Scottish General, in the service of the same Monarch, his proper title of d' Aubigny, instead of that of Obigni, usually given him by the historians of Italy." It seems hard that a man should have to apologize for doing right, especially where the right is so obvious as in this case. It is surely an advantage in the English language, that it can give the natives of every country their right names, M'ithout violating its own idiom ; an advan- tage which should not be given up in compliment to our French * The English have used poor Titus Livius shamefully. Not content with taking away his ffood nanw, and giving him a verj- indifl'erent one {Lin/) in its stead, they have suiTered an iniinident pretender to usurp his just titles. Thus while the ancient Patavinian is shrunk to Livij, a modern Italian wlio recorded in Latin the wars of Henry V. alwaj's figures, in a reference or quotation, as Tiliis Livim. WILLIAM UUSCOK. ')'2'A iR'iards irony denominated " All the Talents." But it is woeful to think that the best act of that ministry was the most unpopular, and that the influence of the slave-traders at the gin-shops prevented Mr. Roscoe's re-election in I8O7. After tlie dissolution of Parliament he returned to his consti- tuents, and a number of well-affected gentlemen went out to meet and to conduct him into tlie town which he had faithfully represented. But an infuriated multitude opposed the entrance of his cortege, in Castle- street, and he found it necessary to withdraw from the contest, which was carried on against him by personal violence. Should we not be thankful to Heaven, that in little more than twenty years, so great an improvement has taken place in public feeling, that all the rum in U 1 1. 1. 1 AM ROSCOL. ■i2r) Jjimaica could not raise a inol) in favour of slavery ^ It iiuist not be (iniitted that tlu' part takoii by Mr. Roscoe, in tlic discussions on the Catludic (|Uosti(iii, fnrnislied a convenient handle to his enemies, and j)erlia])s alienated a few of his friends. They who remember the dismissal of the wliij,'' nunistry of IHOJ, the " no Popery" riots, and tlie enthusiastic burst of applause which attended tlu^ King's decided opposition to the Catholic claims, will per- liaps form no hiu;h estimate of tlie stability of j)ul)lic opinion. The truth is the peoj)le were disappointed — they thou7 and 1808, produced two jjajnjihlets, one entitled, " Consideratmis on the Causes, Ohjccts, and Consequences of the present War, and on the expediency, or the danger of Peace with France." The second, " Remarhs on the Proposals made to Great Britain for opening negociations with France in the ijcar ISO/-" The following passage, near the begiiuiing of the earlier pamjihlet, may serve at least to record the general feeling of despondency which 526 ^VIl.l,IA^r roscoe. the rising of the Peninsula war soon to cliangc into an oxtacy <>f liope : * " riitlierto, indeed, we have contended with our enemies for prizes of gi-eat value. States and empires have heen the objects of dispute, and as far as we have heen interested in them, liave heen lost. But we have as yet struggled only fur the possessions of our allies. At the present moment Me are called upon for a higher stake. If the war is to be con. tinued, it is now no longer matter of exaggeration to assert, that the sovereign of these realms is to contend for his crown ; the people for their liberties and rights ; for the soil in which their forefathers lie intondjed. Against this stake, what is the prize we can hope to obtain from the enemy } The bare honour of having defended oiirxelves wilh success ; for in any hopes of our being able to make an impression on the dominions of France, the wildest advocates of the w ar will now scarcely indulge themselves. Tlais we follow up a losing game. Hol- land, Switzerland, Germany, Sardinia, Italy, Prussia, Turkey, Denmark, and Russia, are not only lost to us as allies, but have thrown their Mcight into the opposite scale. With the assistance of these powers we have been completely disappointed in all our views. Is it then advisable tliat we should play the last desperate game, and exhibit ourselves to the world as the last object, with an adversary against vdiom we have been so far from gaining any substantial advantages, that the utmost efforts we have been able to make, have hitherto served to open to him an opportunity for still greater success." Mr. Roscoe proceeds to shew that all the ])retexts which had been successively advanced to justify the conuuencement, the renewal, and continuance of the war, had been successively abandoned. The infection of French principles, the restoration of the Bourbons, the inability of the revolutionary governments " to maintain the accustomed relations of peace and amity," the necessity of continuing hostilities till we had obtained indemnity for the past and security for the future, were no longer (in 1807) the alleged obstacles to a pacirication. In adverting " to the short experimental truce of Amiens," he labours hard to throw the blame of its infraction on the war-party in England, on the French emigrants, and the French counter-revolutionary papers, published in London ; and on " another, and still more formidable party, consisting of the iniiun)eral)Ie bands of journalists and hireling writers, who feed upon the (credulity, and fatten upon the calamities of a nation ; men who flourish most in the midst of tvuuult; to whom the disasters of * The Painplilct went through eight editions, but we transcribe from the fifth, dated February, 18U8. WILLIAM ROSCOE. ri27 the country arc as valuable as licr triiiiiiphs ; a destructive battle as a rich triumph, and a iil-w uar as a freehold estate." In treating this part of his subject, our author falls upon expressions less fav(»uraljle to the press than the general liljeraiitv of his opinions would lead us to expect. He has anticipated the arguments so frefjuently urged by Tory writers, against the impunity given to all attacks on foreign governments emanating from writers in this country," and seems to blame the ministry of 1801 for not taking such decisive measures as Tallevrand suggested, to j)ut a stop to those animadversions which the Premier Cctnsid com[)laine(l of so bitterly. Yet such co\dd not surely have been Roscoe's meaning. He would not have purchased even peace by stifling the public voice of England, far less by the extrusion of the unfortunate exile from her shores. But he was intent to prove that the peace might have been adjusted, confirmed, and j)reserved, — and that the resumption of hostilities was mainly to be attributed to exasperated passions and national antipathies, inflamed by prejudiced and interested individuals. Peace was an object so dear to Roscoe's licart, that he was willing to reconunend it by a little special ])leading; and having persuaded himself that the French ruler really desired peace (which no ruler, legitimate or usin-jjcr, whose power is l)uilt on military glory docs or can) he thought he was promoting conciliatorv disjxisitions, Mhen endeavouring to convince his unconvincible countrymen, that nothing but their own ill tongues and perverse humours prevented their deadly foe becoming their best and truest friend. To the "'impediments' as to the evacuation of Egypt and ^Malta *"To foreign states, that which a countr}' does, or that which it permits to be done by its subjects, is the same. With our internal regiilations they can have no concern ; but they have a rig-ht to expect from iis that respect for their institutions which we claim for our own. To encroach upon the freedom of the press will never be the act of any real friend to the interests of mankind ; but to restrain its licentiousness is not to encroach upon, but to preserve that freedom. If it be in the power of every" venal demagogue, or wild enthusiast, to throw out, unrestrained, the most unjust and offensive aspersions against the rulers and governments of other states, a cause of hostility will never be far to seek. In fact, nations, as they are composed of, so they feel like individuals, aiul the general sentiment differs from tlie particular one, only in being more permanent and more mteuse."---Cuiisiilcratioii.i, pm/v 26. The same doctrine, almost in the same words, has been preached against the English vituperators of the restored Bourbons, of Ferdinand, of .Migml, and uf the Emperor Nicholas. It may appear to some persons a great triumph to find a liberal admitting that the licentiousness of the press requires to be curbed. It is indeed a "consummation . devoutly to be wislied." The man who shall invent a method of pn-serviug liberty, anil yet preclude the possibility of license, will deserve to be canonized. 528 WILLIAM ROSCOE. by tlie English troops, and the evacuation of Holland by the French," he alludes very slightly, as matters admitting an easy settlement ; the invasion of Switzerland, and the inhospitable aggressions on English commerce, he passes wholly without o])servation. It is true, that none of these, nor all of them, were either the real or the justifying causes of the war, but they have been supposed sufficient proofs of that reck- less ambition and irreconcilable hatred, which rendered amity impossible, and an armistice perilous. Having taken a rapid review of the events from the rupture of 1803, till the battle of Austerlitz, he adverts to the death of Mr. Pitt, and draws a character of that statesman, rather distinguished for the mildness of its phraseology, and an air of gentlemanly candour, than for any strong or vivid traits of portraiture. Such candid pictures, as they never much resemble the original, so they satisfy neither his admirers nor their opponents. After some handsome compliments to INIr. Pitt's talents, and regret that such accomplishments as his should be rendered mischievous instead of beneficial, by the predominance of a single passion, "inherited from his father," (whether a passion for power simply, or a passion for war, or a passion for popularity, any of which he might have inherited from his fathei-, we are not certified), our author proceeds thus : — " Unfortunately, the system of education of I\Ir. Pitt was in politics, that which Lord Chesterfield's is in private life. It was founded on too narrow a basis, and aimed too directly at its object. A cultivated mind, and a humane disposition, will render their possessor truly polite ; sound principles and a real love of man- kind, truly patriotic; but Avithout these neither the patriotism nor the politeness are any thing more than a whited sepulchre. The system was however successful, the young orator began liis career in a manner the best calculated to display his powers. As he spoke the hopes of freedom revived ; corruption shnuik from his glance, and the nation hailed him as her deliverer ; but no sooner was the prize within his grasp than he seized it with an eagerness, and retained it M'ith a tena- city, which all the efforts of his opponents could neither impede nor relax. Having thus obtained the supreme power, the talents which had acquired it w'ere employed with equal success to preserve it. The correction of abuses, the removal of peculation and corruption, the reform of the representation, the extension of civil and religious liberty, Avere now no longer the objects in view, .ludges. Chancellors, Ambassadors, and Ministers of State. But it does not make good men, or wise men either. Even if it leave the heart uninjured, it keeps the mind unnaturally ignorant; for viewins all thiu?^ in an artificial relation to one object, it ^ns, and therefore 3 X 530 WILLIAM ROSCOE. Our aiitlior does not scruple to attrilnite both tlie horrors of the French revohition, and tlie subsequent successes of the French arms, to tlie niisadventurous attacks upon French libertj^, of which he accounts i\Ir. Pitt the primiim mobile. It is our business to record^, not to con- fute or approve, Mr. Roscoe's sentinientii. He shall utter them in his own words : — " To M'hat circumstance is it to be ascril)ed that a people so restless in their disposition, so changeful in their views, should have been united together through all the variations of their government, and have acted in all their external relations with one heart and as one man ? To what but the continued pressure of external force ? To the successive com- binations formed under the auspices of ]\Ir. Pitt, to compel them to submission. That France has suffered in the contest, that her best blood has flowed on the scaffold, that the luminaries of science have been extinguished, and the brightest gems of the human intellect trampled under foot ; that jealousy, ambition, cruelty, and revenge, have acted their dreadful parts in awful succession, and have produced a scene of calamity unexampled in history, is but too true ; but such was the price that France was compelled by Europe to pay for her independence on foreign powers, and in this view the piu-chase was after all cheaply made. The principle m liicli carried that nation through all her difficulties, was the determination of the people to rally round the knows, nothing in its true relations to man, and to the universL\ The more their knowledge, the greater their errors. The greater their command of facts, the more perilously false their inferences. They may, indeed, be wise in their own craft, but they are pitiful blunderers when they step beyond it. Be it recollected, that we are not speaking of that devotion of time to a professional study, which may be a duty, but of that perversion of self-government, which makes the profession all in all. Mr. Roscoe seems to accuse the Lord Chatham of making his son's education a mere apprenticeship to the art and mystery of statesmanship, and so teaching him to look upon his fellow creatures only as things to be governed ; as Chesterfield certainly trained his offspring to regard men and women alike as creatures to be pleased, courted, flattered, and despised. The truth of the allegation, as far as concerns Chatham, we neither affirm nor deny. A general truth is not invalidated by an incidental misapplication. We agree with the admirers of Pitt, that he had a strong and sincere passion for the public good in the abstract; that he understood the true nature of that public good, which is good to each and to all, and is all in every part, we doubt exceedingly. In that knowledge of human nature which is acquired by observation and outward exyjerience, he could hardly be deficient, for he was hack- nied in the ways of men, and knew how to bend them to his purposes; — in that know- ledge of man, which consists in the intelligent sympathy of a good heart, instructed by kind affections and hourly charities, by pain that begets patience, by solemn or cheerful influences of happiness, by solitary musing, by self-examination, prayer, and faith, he had hardly time to be a proficient. W 1 1 I.I.AM ROSCOK. 531 existing goveninuMit, whatever that government might he, and to join in Impelling with oiio hand, an«l one voice, the common ciu'my. To this they have sacritic«'d their ease, their jji-operty, their friends, their fami- lies, their lives, with a i)rodigality, which excites at the same time horror and admiration." From the tone and passion of this eloquent effusion, w<' might almost Iiave imagined that the autlior was exhorting his countrymen to per- severance in a li, and his lenity towards French errors aj)pear. " Can it be allow able, it may be asked, that any jw^rson shall point out the errors or the faults of his own country, and its rulers, and pass over without still gi-eater reprobation the misconduct of other nations with which she is at enmity ; the crimes of whose people and of \» hose government are of the deepest die? The answer is, that it is allow- able, and for this very reason, that our country lias a claim upon our services which a foreign country has not. The one bears a near resem- blance to the self-examination, without wliich the sense of morals in individual characters would soon be lost, the other is the admonishing of a stranger of whose motives we can oidy imperfectly judge, and for whose conduct we are not accoxuitable. But it may be said, that virtue and vice admit of degrees, and that however Me may ourselves have erred, it may be proper to shew the guilt of other nations has far exceeded our own. Tt» what purpose ? Will the crimes of otliers be an apology for ours > and is it desirable that we should diminish the sense of our own misconduct by comparing it with the more enormous offences of others. This however is the fashion of the jiresent day." Not many nionths after the appearance of this appeal, the rising of the Spaniards ga\e a new aspect to the war, and rendered every wisper of peace so dissonant to the British ear, that for a while there seemed to be but one mind in the nation. And even in the darkest intervals of that protracted contest, when Spain seemed to despair of herself, and many denounced the Spaniards as unworthy of another drop of British blood, those who hoped least for the cause, would hardly think of peace with the faithless invader. We are n<»t aware that Mr. Roscoe commented on the war in any subsequent publications. He never ceased to think peace pathy of his numerous friends, and prompted them to take steps for seciu-ing him against their imme- diate conse(piences. It is more necessary to state this, because many unjust imputations have been vented against the inhabitants of Liver- pool, on account of their supposed neglect of Mr. Roscoe in his adver- sity. There was considerable delicacy necessary in the steps which were taken to testify their esteem and attachment. IMr. Roscoe had a noble and independent mind. He had steadily refused the proffered gift of a valuable selection from his library, even after it had been for that purpose bought by his friends at the sale ; and those who had the pleasure of being intimate with him, well knew how necessary it would be to keep him in ignorance of what was intended, luitil it was accom- plished. During a second visit which he made to Holkham, a private fund was quickly subscribed among his friends, for the purchase of an annuity on the lives of Mr. and Mrs. Roscoe. The delicate task of communicating what was done, devolved on me ; and in the correspond- ence which ensued between us, the example of his friend Charles James Fox, luider similar circumstances, was successfully urged to reconcile his mind to receive this spontaneous homage to his talents and his worth, from sincerely attached friends." Thus rescued from all apprehension of wanting the comforts which old age requires, Mr. Roscoe passed the remainder of his life in much tranquility ; and the works that he executed, at that advanced period, were neither few nor trifling. But for a mind like his, stored with much and various knowledge, and long inured to composition, to produce a book was no more than heiJthy exercise. The track of literature which he pursued requiring rather taste, judgment, and research, than strong effort and violent excitement, was smooth and easy to his declining years. He never was an ambitious writer, never aimed at saying striking things, or constructing sentences which should seem to mean a great deal in a narrow space. His poM'crs were not dependent on the flow of youthful spirits, on mercurial agility of thought, or tiery animation of feeling ; neither did his studies demand that long-continued, abstract attention and introversion, which, as it is the latest faculty that man achieves, so is it the first to suffer by bodily decay. In 1822, he ])ublished " lUuslratiojis of the Life qf Lorenzo de' Medici," in which he defends his former works from the criticisms of Sismondi : and about the same time, a " Memoir of Richard Hoberts," a self-taught linguist, no less distinguished for the dirtiness of his person, than for the number of languages which he could read. A very UII.I.IAM ROSCOK. /541 curious worlc niifilit be writti'ii on men of a siiij^lt' taltMit. Notliinf^ goes farther to jinne the orj^aiiic tlieory of the j>hreiioh)l, and is said to be "the most splendid work that every issued from a provin- cial ])ress." We confess we never saw any part of it; nor should we lie able to judge of its scientific merits if we had ; bnt the most uninformed may understand that it was no triHing honour, for a man divided between many studies, and distracted by many cares, to jjain a lasting fame in a walk of investigation, w hich men of considerable renown have thought a sufficient employment for their undivided powers. The plates were many of them from his own drawings, l)ut the greater part from those of two ladies, his daughter-in-law Mrs. Edward Roscoe, and i\Iiss R. Miller. In the execution of this design, he found great benefit from that botanic garden, which he had himself so great a share in establishing. What reception the work met with is testi- fied by the fact, that before the second number was published, there \vas a call for more of the first than had originally been struck off. The other, and greater labour, led his observation into a far less ]deasing class of subjects, and called him to consider the most painful and perhaps the most difficult prol)lem in civil jtolity, that of criminal jurisprudence, which engaged the last serious thoughts he devoted to earth. We have more than once adverted to his political writings, and have not scrupled to declare our conviction that they shew him to have been a better man than a pamphleteer. Neither his heart nor his head seem suited to the trade. But when a great question of moral policy was to Ije argued ; when the reason of man was to be reconciled with his noblest feelings, mercy to be identified with justice, and humanity with wisdom ; there was a call as apt as meet for the ripest fruits of Roscoe's powers, and he obeyed it promptly and joyfully- In 1819, he published his '' Observotlons on pciudJiirlspnidcncc, and the reformation of Criminals ; with an Appendix, eontaininii the latest Reports of the State-Prisons, or Penitentiaries of Philadelphia, Netv. York, and Massachusels, and other Documents." As the subject has been so freipiently reconsidered since that time, and so many recruits have been continually added to the once little band of the champions of justice, niuch of what Roscoe advanced as neglected truth, will already appear as stale truism. We have discovered little in the treatise which he was the first to utter ; but he has put the argu- ments against excessive punishment in a peculiarly concise and tan- 548 WILLIAM ROSCOE. gible form, and lias expressed his conviction that reformation is the sole legitimate end of ])unishment, and moral improvement the only effective mean of reformation, ^ith an outpouring of the heart, a meek solemnity, which canmtt fail to make the most positive snpporters of "things as they are," confess that there is a view of the subject neither absurd nor unchristian, very different from that M'hich tliemselves have taken. Tlie first head he considers is, "the viotives and ends of jnmish- ment." And here we cannot lielp noticing a remarkable omission. Mr. Roscoe seems to take it for granted, that the ends of all penal enactments have been cither vindictive, or preventive, or corrective ; either intended for satisfaction to the offended parties, or to prevent the repetition of the offence by terror and example, or to amend the criminal by suffering. But he does not recollect, that men in past ages considered the punishment of the guilty as an atonement, an expiation, a sacrifice, an indefeasible duty, the neglect of which involved the whole community in the guilt of the individual offender ; that this supposed duty had no reference to the angry feelings of the injured persons, far less to general consequences, and least of all to any contingent benefit of the criminal, but to an everlasting law of retribution, of which the muni- cipal law was only the exponent and instrument. The feeling on which this doctrine is founded, had probably never been cherished in Roscoe's bosom ; nor was the doctrine often formally broached in his hearing, except, it may be, in reference to the eternal dealings of Divine Justice, M'hich his good sense must have shewn him could be no authority for the dealings of sinful man with his fellow sinners. Still he might have found traces of the prevalence of such a doctrine, in scripture and in history ; he might have found it in Shakspeare, in the rites and laws of honour, and in the feelings of the multitude. We are very, very far from assenting to the doctrine. It is, we conceive, a fearfully false inference from an awful truth ; an inference recognized neither by Reason nor by Christianity. That the crime of each contains the sin of all, admonishes all to repent, proves to all the necessity oi some Expiation, we do most firmly believe ; but not that the sufferings or the death of the guilty can deliver either himself or the avenger from guiltiness. The blood of a murderer can no more atone for the murder, than it can resuscitate tlie murdered. But without entering into further discussion of this doctrine of penal atonement, which, false as we esteem it, should never be confounded with the animal passion of revenge, it is sufficient to remark, that it is of considerable historical importance, in accounting for the ferocity of certain codes. The principle of sacrificing lives at the altar of expe- diency, aiul multiplying puniohments for the secui-ity of property, is u ii.i.iAM iieople to sanguinary laMs, diffuses and maintains a sanguinary spirit througliout the country, m hicli ecpially infects the rulers and the people, and becomes a more destructive, because a more permanent calamity than famine, pestilence, or war." P. U). ]\Ir. Koscoe has here correctly enough depicted the effects of san- guinary punishments in a hard-hearted age ; but he has not observed one bad effect which they have in a soft-hearted one like the present. But it is a most fatal effect, from the contagion whereof Mr. Roscoe himself Mas not absolutely free. They utterly destroy all abhorrence of crime. They absolutely enlist every good feeling in tlie service of the criminal. We say deliberately, every good feeling, because no feeling can be good which is not purely benevolent. The infliction of pain in any case, can only be justified by a lofty, cold, passionless reason. He that inflicts pain, without feeling pain, is brutal ; he that has pleasure in the pains even of the Eternal Enemy, is devilish. Therefore Me say deliberately, that sanguinary laws enlist every good feeling in behalf of the criminal. It may be the duty of the legislator, of the judge, of the public to master these feelings ; but then the reason which con- demns them sliould be direct and ])lain to every capacity. In a free country, it is a sufficient motive for the abrogation of a penal enact- ment, that its justice requires to be demonstrated by argument. The discussion ahvays excites a clamour, and that clamour encourages the vicious with hopes of impiniity. Punishment for example can never be justified by high or abstract reasonings ; because the example is intended to operate upon the ignorant and coarse- minded, M'ho M'ill not understand any thing but what is direct and palpable. If the people at large were capable of comprehending the severe morality, or the long-draMn deduction of consequences, by which some have attempted to vindicate our ancient laM^s, M'ould they need to be restrained by terror ? Would there be any crimes, but those M'hich arise from insanity, or sudden passion, for M'hich there is no law .'' With the great bulk of mankind, a criminal is always an object either of lawless rage, or of mere compassion. Give the mob their own way, and they woidd either rescue or tear to pieces every man that is brought to execution. Law, to be effective for good, must not only be just, but be felt to be so. It should be a moral instructor, as mcII as a physical terror ; but we do not hesitate to say, that under the late system, it tended far more to promote crime, by making the people worse, than to check it, by making them more Mary. The best that can ,be said for multiplied hangings, is, that a rogue hanged is a rogue the WILLIAM ROSCOK. 551 fewer. But if tlie tendoncy of frovernmcnt is to corrupt tlio people, eitlier liv fiiiiiiliarizinj^ tlieni with scenes of horror, or bv turiiiti<; the tide of their syni])athi('s into ;i wronj^ chiuniel, tlie r«»{;ues will increase too fast for the utmost diliffence of the hang-man, though tlie navy were unrigged to make halters. In a truly Christian state, there would be no ne»'d for vindictive puiu'shnients at all. Everv ]»urpose of social order would l>e answered, and the JMajesty of Righteousness fully asserted, hy penances, the known and avowed object whereof should be, first, to substantiate the inuiui- table distinction of right and Mrong; and secondly, to impress on the offender the enormity of his sin, and make him meet for j)ardon and restoration. Such a state as this Mr. Roscoe manifestly contemplates, when he says that reformation is the sole legitimate end of punishment; but at that state no country has yet arrived. We can also conceive a commuiu'tv actuated and governed by a strict stoical virtue, a fierce Hebrew zeal against vice, wherein an extreme rigour of law woidd be required to satisfy the public sense of justice. Such was the Jewish Theocracy meant to be, and sucli a state was contemplated by the Puritan Parliament, who made adidtery capital for the first offence, and simple incontinence for the second. But not such is the modern condition of society ; nor is it to any such austerity of morals that the multiplication of caj)ital punishments is to be ascribed. We are not virtuous enough to have any right to be severe, even if it were true (and if it be true, the New Testament is false), that severity is either part or sign of virtue. Let him thai has no sin, ihroiv the first stone. We are bid to imitate our Heavenly Father, not as a Lord of Hosts, and a God of battles, not as an avenger and a consuming fire, but as he is a God of mercy, for we all need mercy, as he is the Father that makcth his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and scndeth rain on the Just and the unjiist. Under his third head, " On the prevention of crimes," ]\Ir. Roscoe laments the utter Mant of discipline and moral education adapted to the great body of the English people. Of the worse than insuf- ficiency of what has been called ])opular education, lie speaks as a man should speak, who knows in ^hat consists the true happiness of men and of nations. " Undoubtedly, the best jireservative against the commissioji of crimes, is a correct sense of moral duttf, so strongly inforced by the precepts of Christianity. To suj)pose tliat all efforts to inculcate these precepts are fruitless, is to admit that their author delivered them in vain. All persons will agree, that the inculcation of such sentiments on the minds of youth, would not only l>e the In'st, but the cheapest mode of preventing crimes. Yet if we compare the Oo2 WILLIAM ROSCOF.. eft'orts that have been made for tliis purpose, with the immense ta.sk that yet remains unaccomplislied, we cannot Hatter ourselves with lia\ing made any extraordinary progress. We seem as yet to have had but an imperfect glance of the true principles upon which a virtuous education is founded, and to have allowed a scanty and partial cultiva- tion of the intellect to suj)ersede the more important cultivation of the lieart. The further this kind of instruction is carried, the more doubt- ful is its expediency, if the affections and feelings have not had an equal share of attention, as it places a weapon in the hands of youth, without directing them in the use of it. To suppose that talents and virtue are inseparably united, is to close our eyes against daily experi- ence ; yet Ave neglect to avail ourselves of those tender years in which j the deepest impressions are made, to form the character for the benefit I of society, and to cultivate those seeds of social affection which nature has implanted in every human bosom. By a just retribution for our folly, it costs us more to punish crimes than it would to prevent them. Independent of all that the community suffers by plunder and depreda- tion, in frequent bloodshed, and continual annoyance, it is harrassed a second time in bringing the offenders to justice ; and it may safely be asserted, that the amount it expends for this purpose, more than doubles the spoliation sustained. Perhaps a day may yet arrive, M'hen it may be thought worth while to consider whether the great and annually increasing amount expended in bringing criminals to justice, would not be better devoted to the inculcation, on the minds and temper of youth, of such principles and dispositions as might prevent the perpetration of those crimes which it is now employed to punish." Thus far Roscoe speaks like himself; but when he ad\ises legislators to appeal to the sense of honour and of shame, and to substitute dis- graceful for painful penalties, we are inclined to demur. Honour and shame are feelings bestowed by nature for wise ends : their extinction marks the last hopeless stage of depravity ; but, like all other passions, they are good only so far as they are natural and necessary. They should never be artificially excited, or diverted from their instinctive course, — far less she xuiindurahle, to herd with those whose glory is in their shame. Ritther let the code of Draco he executed by Rhadamanthus, and every offence be visited m ith the avenging sword, than condemn that man to live, wliom the law has made a bye-word, and a plague-spot. In the ensuing ])arts of his work, Mr. Roscoe considers the subject of capital and secondary punishments minutely. The inHiction of death he appears to disapprove in toto, and appeals to the good success attend- ing its abolition by the Grand Duke of Tuscany, in IJf^'J. Whatever may be the tendency of individual opinions on the lawfulness or expe- diency of taking life for life, it is highly unadvisable to moot the jwint in the present state of jnddic feeling. Such discussions could only retard that mitigation at which the advocates of Inunanity arc aiming, by weakening their most taking argument; viz., the apparent injustice of subjecting unecpial crimes to equal penalties. The consideration of punislimoit.s of iiiferior degree led him to speak of penitentiaries. We cannot follow him through his various details on this head, which occupy the most considerable part of his volume, and a long appendix. He was clearly of (ipinij7 lodged tlicm for fcllou-crciitiircs, tin* strtMiirtli of liis iiitL-Ilcrt in coiu cciviii"^ and coiiiprclR'ndiii^ j^reat cuds, his adroitness in adapting, liis persevcraiifo in applying means conducive to tliosu ends; all, in short, which constitute the man, apart from the science and the profession, may be rendered intelligible to all; and to these points we shall direct our ])rincipal attention. James Cook uas })orn on the 27tli of October, 172H. His father was an agricultural labourer, or farm-servant, who migrated from his native Northumberland, to the northern district of Yorkshire, called Cleve- land. In the small village of Marton, in the North-Riding, mid- M'ay between Gisbrough and Stockton-upon-Tees, the circumnavigator was born in a clay-biggin, wliich his fame has not protected from demo- lition. His mother's christian name was Grace, and he m as one of nine children. No wonder if his first years were familiar with jxtverty and privation. Yet his parents, who seem to have been good in a class where goodness is not rare, contrived, even from the pittance of a labourer's wages, to set apart a few pence weekly, to procure for their offspring such instruction as the village dame could supply. Notwith- standing the obscurity of Cook's childhood, the name of his spectacled tutoress has been ])reserved from oblivion. It Mas Dame Walker. Whether the future navigator was distinguished by a raj)id j)rogress in ABC, Me have not ascert^iined ; l)ut judging by analogy. Me should rather conjecture the reverse. The men, who idtimately do their instructors most credit, are fretjuently those m ho give them most trouble ; and strong masculine minds, mIiosc characteristic is austere good sense, and that rigid self-controul Mhich (pialifies alike to obey and to command, seldom accjuire the elements of any knoMledge rapidly. A truly great man generally has the reputation of a dull boy. It is not recorded whether dame Walker discovered the germs of genius in young Cook, or Mhcther he dis])layed, in childhood, that in([uisitive spirit which afterwards conducted him round the globe. If he did, it is \no- bable that his encpiiries procured him more m hipping than information ; for there is nothing that teachers of the old school dislike more in a pupil than asking cpiestions, especially if they chance to be questions out of the scojjc of the said teachers' knoMledge. The village dame, a character so useful in fact, so delightful to contemj)lation, and so beautifully described by Shenstone, is fast disap- pearing from society. Compared to the speed and efhciency of modern plans of education, their methods of instruition were as the toil of the distaff and spindle to the operation of the spinning jenny. It Mould be idle to regret a change Mhich may produce much gocKl, and mIucIi the present condition of the conuuiuiity in a maimer necessitates; yet it is 558 CAPTAIN .lAMKS COOK. not without a stronj; feeliiii,' of interest that we regard the few survi- vors of tliis venorahle sisterliood, and we cannot hear to see their little charges, their joy and tlieir ])ride, taken from under tlieir care. It is a comniou-phice argument against improvements in education, tliat the new systems will never produce greater or lietter men than have grown up under the old ones. Persons who pursue this line of reasoning, may possibly point to the fame of Cook, in order to vindicate the sufKciency of dames' schools for popular education. But it is extremely unjust and delusive to calculate either the merit of individual teachers, or the value of establishments and systems by the munber or eminence of the great men reared under them. For not to mention that all great men are, in some sort, self educated, the methods and circumstances most favourable to the matin-ing and exercise of great faculties, whether moral or intellectual, are by no means the most favourable to average hearts and minds. The most saintly virtue is often produced in the most dissolute ages, and appears in persons whose youth has been beset by temptation and ill-example. But that master, that university, tliat system is to be preferred, which produces tlie best mediocrity, and whose pupils are most generally respectable. When little Cook had attained his eighth year, liis father, who bore an excellent character for industry, frugality, and integrity, obtained the humble but confidential situation of hind, or agricultural super- intendent of the farm of Airy Holme, near Great Ayton, belonging to Thomas Skottowe, Esq. Hither the good man removed with his family. James was sent, at Mr, SkottoAve's expense, to a day school in the neighbourhood, where he was taught writing, and the funda- mental rules of arithmetic — sufficient learning to qualify him for the situation of a shopkeeper, which is often the highest mark of rural ambition. There is something very tempting, especially to a mother, in the name of profits ; and tendej- parents of low condition are desirous of procuring in-door employments for their offspring. Before he was full thirteen years old, James was apprenticed to a haberdasher, at Staiths, near Whitby, then a considerable fishing town. The daily sight of vessels, and the conversation of seamen, soon discovered to his j'oiuig mind that the sea was his vocation : he (piarrelled with the shop, obtained his discharge, leajjcd over the counter, and bound himself for seven years to John and Henry Walker, of Whitby, two worthy brothers, of the society of friends, who Mere extensively engaged in the coal trade, and joint owners of the ship Free-Love, on board of which Mr, Cook spent the greater ])art of his marine apprenticeship ; ami when that was expired, he continued to serve as a conunon sailor in the coasting trade, which; although it may furnish little to gratify CAPTAIN JAMKS COOK. 559 eitlier a wild ])assinn for advtMiture, or the inorc hiiulablc thirst for various kimu lc'(l<^e, ationls toil and liardsliij», peril and cxperieiice, in daily aljundaofc. At length lie was raised to the station of mate in one of John Walker's vessels. This is a favourahle testinutny to his general conduct, thou^'h it does not ajipear that tlie superiority of liis mind was observed by his employers, or that any presentiment of his hi>(li destination liad dawned upon himself. He was learning; the practical detail of his profession, and perhajjs meditating,', tlirouf,'h the lon2, at the recapttu-e of Newfoinid- land, was employed in surveyioi; the coasts and harbours, and (jbtained the sij^^nal ap])n)bation of Colonel Andierst and Captain Graves. At the close of the same year he returned to England; and on the 21st of Decendjer, married, at Barking, in Essex, jMiss Elizabeth Batts, au amiable woman, w ho deserved and attained his full affection and confi- dence ; but the state of a sailor's wife is for the nu»st part a wedded widowhood. Early iu 17(>-'^> Captain Graves was sent out a second time as Governor of Newfoundhnid, and i\Ir. Cook again accompanied him as surveyor. Some difficulty was experienced in carrying the provisions of tlie recent treaty of Paris into execution, and some consequent delay obstructed Cook in his operations, which were, however, satisfactorily brought to a close, and he returned to England at tlie end of the season, but did not long continue there. Sir Hugh Palliser, his earliest patron, was now appointed Governor and Commodore of Newfoundland and Labradore, and Cook was desired to attend him in the same capa- city of surveyor in which he had served Captain Graves. The charts of the North American shore and islands were at that time extremely defective, and no one was deemed more projier to remedy the deficiency, than he who had already begun the examination so successfully. In this empl(»vment, and in exploring the interior of Newfoundland, Cook was engaged at intervals, from 1^64 to 17^'?, "hen he once more returned to England. Had Cook's achievements been confined to the services we have thus Ijriefly mentioned, he would yet deserve a respectable place among those sagacious and laborious minds who have ac(juired nuich kiiow- ledg-e under circumstances that ini<,dit well excuse ignorance, and have turned their self-gained knowledge to practical acc»)unt, in emergencies where more thorough erudition might easily liave found itself at a loss. And yet there are many men who can go thus far — nay, to whose probable advance it might be rash to set a limit — who do iuiaccountal)ly stop short, or retrograde, being either too well contented with them- selves, or too ill contented with tlu'ir reward, or lacking an external motive, exanij)le, or necessity. Had our present subject, for instance, realized a nidderate independence a little while after his marriage, and 4 B 562 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. retired to some cheap provincial town^ who can say whether he wouhl Iiave been any wise distinijuished from the ordinary race of lialf-pay subs, pursers, and sailing masters^ so frequent in good neighbourhoods and sea-bathing villages ? living barometers, morning loungers, and evening backgammon players ; among whom there is doubtless much power of thought and of action, if they had any thing worth doing or thinking about ? Cook was destined to nobler labours. Those who most confidently reject the astrological hy])othesis, may nevertheless admit that Cook's great actions Avere dependent upon planetary influence. The astrono- mers of Europe having determined by their calculations that a transit of Venus over the sun's disk would take place in the year 1769, and that the best point for observing this phenomenon, so important to science, would be found among the islands of the South Sea, were naturally urgent for the assistance of their governments, to accomplish the observation required. In England, the affair was warmly taken up by the Royal Society, a body whose zeal and services in the promotion of knowledge, ought to put to shame the scurrilous abuse Avith which the society has been assailed, by satirists and buffoons, from Butler to Wolcot. A long memorial was addressed to his Majesty, dated Febru- ary 15th, 1768, setting forth the great importance of the object, the attention paid to it by other states, and the proper means for its attain- ment. His Majesty, at the instance of the Earl of Shelburne (after- wards Marcpiis of Lansdowne), signified his pleasure to the commis- sioners of the Admiralty, that a convenient vessel be equipped to convey such astronomers and other men of science as the Royal Society should select, to the South Seas ; and on the 3d of April, Mr. Stephens, Secretary to the Admiralty, announced to the Society, that a bark had been taken up for that purpose. The management of the expedition was originally intended for Mr. Alexander Dalrymple, F. R. S., a scientific amateur, who had made astronomy and geogi'aphy the par- ticular subjects of his investigation. But here a difficulty arose, Mr. Dalrymple, well knowing the impossibility of securing the obedience of a crew without the full authority of a naval commander, or of pre- serving disci[»line in a vessel not subject to martial law, requested a brevet commission as Captain, such as had been granted to Halley the astronomer, in his famous voyages to discover the variation of the com- pass. To this arrangement. Sir Edward Ilawke, then at the head of the naval department, could not be brought to consent, alleging that his conscience did not suffer him to entrust any ship of his Majesty's to a man not regularly bred to the sea. And in this objection, which has been censured as a professional punctilio, it is extremely })robable that CAPTAIN JAMKS COOK. .^33 Sir Edwiinl was in the right; for Ilallcy's commission \\as little respected by his men, who ventured to dispute its validity. To maintain order in a shi])or an army, or even in a school, something more is required than a legal commission, — a moral authority founded on prescription and association, and above all, a feeling among subordinate commanders, that their own honour, dignity and rank, reijuire them to sup])ort the superior. As neither the admiral nor the philosopher would recede from their resolution, and Sir Edward declared that he would sooner cut off his own right hand than he would allix it to an irregular commission, the Society had no alternative, but either to abandon the project, in which the national credit as well as the inte- rests of science w-as deeply concerned, or to look out for another con- ductor. In this emergency, IMr. Secretary Stephens, a man who must have possessed some extraordinary qualirications, for he retained his oHice in those changeable times under many successive administrations, directed the attention of the board to JMr. Cook. Sir Hugh Palliser, Cook's constant friend, readily vouched for his competency. Such reconunendation w-as not likely to be disregarded, and the Lords of the Admiralty appointed Cook to command the expedition, with the rank of a Lieutenant in the royal navy, his commission bearing date the 25th of ]\Iay, ] 7<)H. The next thing was to select a vessel fit for the purj)oses of the voyage. Sir Hugh Palliser and Lieutenant Cook examined a number of ships then lying in the river, and at length pitched upon one of 370 tons burden, which they modestly and appropriately christened the Endeavour. Before the preparations were completed. Captain Wallis returned from bis voyage round the world, and specially recommended the island which he had discovered, or re-discovered, and named, in honour of his Sovereign and Patron, King George's Isle, (since called by the native term Otaheite,) as the best station for observing the transit of Venus. Thither, therefore, the Admiralty directed C(»ok to steer. IVIr. Green was ap])ointed chief astronomer, JMr. (afterwards Sir Joseph) Banks, and Dr. Solander, accompanied the expedition as naturalists and students of life and manners. The complement of the Endeavour was eighty-four persons, exclusive of the commander; and she \vas victualled for eighteen months, carried ten ciirriage and twehe swivel guns, and w;is amply stored with ammunition and all other necessaries. Lieutenant Cook went on board on the 27th of j\lav sailed down the river the 30th of July, ancliored in Plymouth Sound August 13th, waited for a fair wind to the 2()th of that moiitli. arrived in Finchiiele Road, in the island of iMadeira, Sei)tember 13tli. The Ixjauties and delights of Madeira, " the purple waves," the vineyards 564 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. :iiid orangeries, the restorative atmosphere, and tlie luxuriant liospi- tality of natives and denizens, have been celebrated again and again, never more passionately than by the author of " Six Months in the West Indies." Lieutenant Cook and liis crew M'ere received with the usual welcome, not only from the English, among whom Dr. Thomas Heberden deserved the thanks of all botanists for the assistance he ren- dered to ]Mr. Banks and Dr. Solander, in exploring the vegetable varieties of that fertile land, (Who would not l)e a botanist in a wilder- ness of nameless flowers?) but also from the Fathers of the Franciscan convent, Mho displayed a liberal interest in the object of the expedition, little accordant with the sloth, ignorance, and bigotry, which some of the tars had been used to associate with the garb of a friar. The visitors were also permitted to converse with a convent of nuns. What an incident in the lives of those poor recluses ! The ladies had heard that there were philosophers in the company, and having very indistinct notions of the limits of philosophic intelligence, asked with amusing simplicity, many questions w hich the philosophers were quite unable to answer ; as when it would thunder, whether there was a spring of fresh Avater to be found in the convent, &c. ; questions to which the oracular sages of old would easily have returned responses certain to save their own credit. And indeed it M'ell might astonish the nuns, that men who were sailing to the farthest extremity of the ocean, in the certainty of seeing a particular appearance of the heavenly bodies on a particular day, should nevertheless be ignorant of the intentions of the weather.* Having laid in a fresh stock of beef, water, and wine, the Endeavour weighed anchor from Madeira on the 18th of September, and proceeded across the Atlantic. In the run between Madeira and Rio Janeiro, on the night of the 2yth October, the monotony of " blank ocean and mere sky " was interru])ted by the strange a])])earance of a sea on fire. Sometimes quick successive flashes, sometimes a multitude of luminous * It is probable, that the progress of discoveiy may in time enable philosophers to satisfy the curiosity of nuus on these questions. Even now, there are men whose surmises are grounded on experiment, who believe that the presence of hidden springs or metals may be detected by magnetic or galvanic effluvia, thus approving old Roger Bacon's "hazel rod of divination." The science of Meteorology is yet in its infancy; but we can see no reason why it should not be so perfected, as to enable the proficient to calculate the changes of the atmosphere with an approximation to cer- taintj'. Wherever the Almighty acts through his handmaid Nature, he doubtless acts by discoverable laws. As those laws are more or less simple, they are more or less easily discovered. When many causes are at work together, mutually modifying and counteracting each other, it becomes proportionably difficult to calculate the mean result of the whole. lint, though arduous, not impossible or unlawful. It is not in respect of natural forces, that oitr God is a Cod thai hidclh himself. CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. oGJ points illuminaU'd the uiives around tlic vosscl, sccminf; to increase with tlie aijitation of tlie waters. This plienonienon arises from hiini- nous animals, ehieHy of tlie genus ^Mechisa-. Our vojagers ascertained this by experiment, but it liad been suspected, if not proved, by former natiu'alists. Tlie appearance, though most frecpient between the tropics, is by n() means unknown either in the IVIediterranean, or in our own seas; but in those teeming latitudes, which almost favour the fanciful hypothesis, that all matter has some time been animated, the nuiltitudc of sea insects is so great, as to cover vast tracks of m ater with their light. Sir Joseph Banks (for why should not he, like Augustus and Charlemagne, be allowed to anticipate his title.'') threw the casting net, and captured a hitherto nondescrij)t .species of Medusa, more splendent than any before noticed, which lie called pclliicens. When brought aboard, it emitted a strong white light, like heated metal. Along with this living gelatine he caught crabs of three different species, altogether new, each of m Inch gave as much light as the glow-worm, though not above one third of the size. Doubtless Sir Joseph Mas a liappy man that night, and continued, to the end of liis long, happy, and virtuous life, to observe the 2J)th of October among his liigh days and holjdays. On the 13th of Novenilier the Endeavour arrived at Rio Janeiro, whither the commander had directed his course, as some articles of ])rovision Ixigan to run short, anticipating the like favourable reception from the Portuguese authorities as he had experienced at INIadeira. Herein, however, he was disappointed. The Viceroy would not believe, because he did not comprehend, the purpose of the expedition. When assured that its object Mas to observe a transit of Venus over the Sun, lie could make nothing of it, but that it was exjiected to see the North Star pass through the South Pole, and he had the worse opinion of the English designs Mliich were covered with such an incomprehensible jiretext. Travellers, in exploring the ancient buildings of eastern lands, are exposed to perilous interruption from the natives, who insist upon it that they are hunting for hid treasures; and the representative of his Portuguese ^Majesty at Rio Janeiro might have heard that it Mas not to observe the stars that Englishmen used to traverse the ocean. _pook had need of his peculiar discretion and command of temper, m dealing M'ith this ignorant, important personage, and never came to a thorough understanding M'ith him at all. Water and other necessaries could not be refused, but M'hen toMing down the bay on the fifth of December (it being a dead calm), our navigat(u-s Mere startled by tMo shots from the fort of Santa Cruz, Mhich commands the entrance of the harbour. Cook immediately dropped anchor, and sent to demand the reason of this insult. The governor of the Fortress ausMered that 566 CAPTAIN .lAMIiS COOK. lie could not ;ilIo\v the vessel to ])ass without the Viceroy's order. The Viceroy being ({uestioned, asserted that he had issued the order several days before, but through some unaccountable negligence it had never been transmitted. It was not worth while to disbelieve tliis. On the 7th of December the Endeavour was once more under way, and pursuing her voyage entered the Straits of Le Maire, January 7th, 1769, and the next day anchored in the bay of Good Success, on the coast of Terra del Fuego. This island is perhaps the most wretched spot that ever M'as a permanent habitation of men ; and if human misery be produced by tlie total absence at once of physical accommodation and mental cultivation, of enjoyment and of hope, the inhabitants of Terra del Fuego might be fairly pronounced miserable. Nature has done little for them, and yet they have scarcely been urged to do any thing for themselves. Their hovels, composed of sticks and dry gi-ass, afford no protection against the weather. The scanty bits of seal skin which serve them for garments, supply neither warmth nor decency. Indeed, decency, cleanliness and comfort, appear to be equally strangers to their wishes. They have no incitement to action beyond the craving for food, in search of which they paddle about in their canoes, or wander shivering about the dreary wastes that surround them. If they have any notion of a public blessing, it must be when the sea throws some huge carcase ashore, which may perhaps excite as great a sensation in Terra del Fuego, as a rich wreck would once have done on the coast of Cornwall. Cooking utensils they have none; nor any semblance of furniture ; yet they would accept nothing but a few beads. They had probably no idea of any condition different from their own. Nature, denying them all beside, gave them apathy, the best possible substitute for content. Yet their squalid figures indicated habitual bodily distress, and the few words which made up their language had a whining tone, and were spoken with a shiver, such as we observe in Ix^ggar children, but probably unaccompanied with any positive con- sciousness of pain.* While the Endeavour lay in the bay of Good Success, Sir Joseph Banks, Dr. Solander, IMr. Green, Mr. Monkhouse the surgeon, and others of the scientific party, were very near perishing of cold on a botanical excursion up a mountain in Terra del Fuego. Two black attendants actually died. It should be recollected, that January is the midsum- * From the recent voyage of Captain Foster (the gallant OfBcer unfortunately drowned in the Chagre, just as he was bringing the scientific labours of his expedition to a happy close), it appears that the natives f)f Terra del Fuego arc very little advanced since 1769. 'ihe march of mind, in the neighbourhood of Strait le Maire and Cape Horn, must be a dead march. CAPTAIN JAMKS COOK. ">G7 mer of the Soutlicrn Ilomisphcro. But the ])rief suninicr of Laphiml clioors not tlit- dwelk'rs of the extreme south. On the 2()th of Januurv, our vovaf^ers left Ca])e Horn liehiud theiii, and on the 11th of April eaine in sight of Otaheite. In this interval they discovered several small islands, Avhieh were named La;;o(tn, Thrumh Cap, Bow Island, the Groups, Bird Island, and Chain Island. Most of these appeared to he irdiabited, and the verdant ])alm groves rising above the waste of waters, were deliglitfully refreshing to eves which for months had seen no earth hut the (U'soiate heights of Terra del Fuego. On the 13tli the Endeavour anchored in Port-Royal-bay, Otaheite. As their stay in this island was not likely to he short, and much depended on keeping up a good luiderstanding with the natives, the first measure of Lieutenant Cook M'as to set forth certain rules and regula- tions, according to which the communication between his crew and the islanders was to be conducted. His orders were to this effect : — 1st. To endeavour, by every fair means, to cultivate a friendship with the natives, and to treat them with all imaginable humanity. 2d. A proper jierson or persons will be appointed to trade with the natives for all manner of fruits, provisions, and other productions of the earth ; and no otHcer, or seaman, or other person belonging to the ship, excepting such as are so appointed, shall trade, or offer to trade, for any sort of provisions, fruit, or other productions of the earth, ludess they hccve leave so to do. 3d. Every person employed on shore, on any dnty whatsoever, shall strictly attend to the same; and if by any neglect he lose any of his arms or working tools, or sxiffer them to be stolen, the full value thereof will be charged against his pay, according to the custom of the navy in such cases, and he shall receive such further punishment as the nature of the case may deserve. 4th. The same punishment shall be indicted on any person who is foiuid to embezzle, trade, or offer to trade Mith any part of the shij)'s stores, of what nature soever. .5th, No sort of iron, or any thing made of iron, or any sort of cloth, or other useful and necessary articles to be given in exchange for any thing but provision. J. Cook, There are few spots of earth so remote, so recently discovered, and so little connected with the politics of Euro})e, of mIucIi so much has been talked and written, as of the isle of Otaheite. Sensual philosophists have extolled it as the very garden of delight and lilxTty — the paradise of iMahomet on earth — the floating island of Camoens come to an anchor ; and stern religionists have referred to its Areois, its infanticides, its 008 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. bloody .^lacrifices, as irrcfrajjable proofs of the innate depraA ity of liunian nature. In later times, it has accjuireil a more lionourable celebrity from the labours of the missionaries, whose smallest ])raise it is to have given more accurate accounts of the human natural history of Ijarbarians than had ever been received before. Could a description of this cele- brated island and its inliabitants form a proper part of any biography, it would not be of Cook's, for he was not the discoverer of Otaheite. According to some assertions, it had been visited as early as 1606, by Quiros. But however this might be, the fame of disclosing its existence to modern Europe belongs to C'aptain Wallis, whose vessel, the Dolphin, struck on one of the coi'al reefs that beset and fortify tlie coasts of the Polynesian Isles, and which, if no comet or conflagration interrupt the generation of insect architects in their labour, may at last form a new continent in the Pacific. In the year following, Bougain ville, the first French circumnavigator, visited the Cyprus of the South Seas, and had not long de])arted, when our voyagers arrived. Thus the natives had become sufficiently acquainted with the European aspect to feel no panic at a new arrival, and when the Endeavour anchored in Matarai bay, she was presently siu-rounded with canoes, ofiTering cocoa-nuts, bread-fruit, and other refreshments for barter. A friendly intercourse was soon established ; and the commander having issued the ndes aforesaid, for tlie regulation of commerce, turned his attention to the grand object of his mission. The first consideration was, to fix on the best point from whence to take the observation, then to provide means of taking it in security. Having explored the coast for some distance westAvard, and found no liarbour more convenient than that in which the Endeavour lay, he went ashore, accompanied by Sir Joseph Banks, Dr. Solander, Mr. Green, and a party of marines and sailors, to ])itch on a site for the observatory. A piece of ground was selected, commanded by the guns of the ship, and remote from any native habitation. Here it was resolved to erect a small fort, and to deposit the astronomical instruments. While the space was marking out, the natives, in straggling troops, began to gather round, but unarmed, and without any shew of animosity or of fear. Mr. Cook, \ve\l kn(jwing that a little salutary awe, timely impressed, might prevent the necessity of violence, signified that none should pass the line of demarkation, except Owhaw, (a native who had particularly attached himself to the English during Wallis's visit, and was inclined to renew his acquaintance,) and a single chieftain. These two approached accordingly, and they were given to understand by signs, that the ground was merely wanted to sleep upon for a night or two, and tliat no violation of persoji or property Mould be attempted. CAPTAIN JAMKS COOK. 509 Wlictlier this diinili cmmimnicatiitu jimvcil iiitcllijrihic or imt, t hi' work Mas allowed to jirocccd without interruption, the natives looking ijuietly on like children. The trench was drawn, and a tent erected, in which the scientific gentlemen placed their apparatus under a guard, aneauty, v.-ou'd pass muster at an English fair or merry- night, even ])utting complexion out of the question. Wt mean as to beauty of feature, for in beauty of form, it is probable, that savages in a genial climate, where simple food is plentiful, and spirituous liquors have not become common, excel the average of a civilized people. But this need not be, if civilized nations made use of the knowledge that is given them. Bad or scanty food, premature and unwholesome labour, and the vices which oppression engenders and avarice encourages, dwarf and deform multitudes in our cities, and not in our cities a/o/ic, vhile the bodies, like the minds of the afHuent classes are too often perverted by bad education. It must be added, that the rarity of mis-shapen, or decrepit objects in savage tribes, arises as nuich from their crimes and miseries, as from any other cause. The old and diseased are suffered (or more hiunanely assisted) to]H>rish ; the weakly infant is strangled at the birth, or dies of neglect and hardshij) — only the lieiJthy and vigorous arrive at maturity. But these reflections 4 c 570 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. would not occur to a stranger just landed^ and we conclude that to the philosoj)hers, all things appeared coleur cle rose. Perhaps Mr. Cook's meditations were not of such unmingled bliss. He might have fears of what might breed in his absence, and unfor- tunately those fears were not altogether without cause. Almost as soon as his back was turned, one of the Otaheitans, (who were ^till assembled about the tent,) watched his opportiuiity to seize the sentry's musquet, and make olf with it. Though repeatedly summoned, he shewed no disposition to give it up, and his countrymen were rather inclined to protect him than otherwise. This so far provoked the young midshipman who commanded the guard, that he gave the word to fire, and a volley was discharged among the multitude, who immediately fled in great terror and confusion. As it was observed that the thief did not fall, he was pursued and shot dead. This the tars probably thought no more than justice, (as in England it would have been law,) and good sport into the bargain, but the Lieutenant on his return, testified the utmost concern and displeasure, and reprimanded the young midshipman in a style that, Me hope, he profited by. Thenceforth, orders were issued and enforced, that for no pillage or depredation should a shot be tired on any native. Yet it was some time before confidence was restored ; even Owhaw kept Aloof. But at last, by the good ofiices and skilful management of Mr. Cook and Sir Joseph, the fears of the islanders were appeased, and they began to bring their plantains, cocoa-nuts, and bread-fruit, again to the fort. It may be remarked, that in all dealings between our countrymen and the Otaheitaiis, Sir Joseph was the principal mediator : he managed all the traffic, he made acquaintance with many of the chieftains, he traversed the country in all directions, he Avas a spectator, sometimes an actor in the religious, festal, and funeral ceremonies. The universal passion for knowledge, and not less comprehensive benevolence of that excellent man, led him occasionally into situations bordering on the ludicrous, but they qualified him admirably to obtain the good will of a people, who by all accounts, seem to have been shrewd children with full-grown passions. The small regard to the rights of property Avhich the Otaheitans sliare in common fl'ith the south-sea islanders in general, (we might add, with all nations that have not been long educated by legal institu- tions — for the world are too little aware how nmch honesty is an artificial and conventional virtue,) had very near rendered the main purpose of the voyage abortive. Cook and the scientific gentlemen having gone upon an expedition into the ijiterior, and not returned to the tent, (which was left unoccupied) till the next morning, found the CAPTAIN JAMb;s COOK. o7] great astronomical (juadraiit niissiii«,'. The first supicioii fell on the ship's crew: strict search was made in vain, and it became evident that the treasure had been purloined by Otaheitan hands. In this emer- gency, Sir Joseph volunteered his services, and by a series of « ell conceived manoeuvres, not only discovered the place of its concealment, but obtained its restoration without a contest. All went on fair and friendly, and when the fort came to be thrown up, the islanders zeahmsly assisted in carrying earth, piles, &c. So scrupulous was Cook, that he would not permit a stake to be cut in the woods, but what was purchased and paid for. When the guns were mounted, the natives were much disturbed. Some rumour or tradition of Euro|>ean ra[)ine might have reached the isle of Ocean ; for what land or sea have not Eiiropeans stiuned with blood ? But by the never-failing intervention of Sir Joseph, and the good offices of a chief called Tootahah, all apprehensions were dispelled. About the same time, Lieutenant Cook signalised his justice by a piece of necessary severity, which set the Otaheitan character in a very amiable light. The butcher of the Endeavour had violently assaxdted a woman, who refused to exchange her hatchet for a nail. He had forcibly taken the hatchet, and threatened to cut the poor female's throat. The charge being fairly made out in the presence of Sir Joseph Banks, an information was laid before the commander. It was determined to make an example of the butcher. Several of the natives were invited on board to witness his punishment. They looked on in silence while he was tied to the rigging, but when the first lash was given, they began to inter- cede for the offender with most pathetic beseechings, and when the flagellation proceeded in spite of their intercession, they testified their sympathy with tears and lamentations. The ignorant savages Mere quite unacquainted with the use of the cat-o'-nine-tails. There woidd be small reason, however, to declaim against the cat on the score of humanity, if it never was employed but in cases like that of the butcher of the Endeavour. On the 14th of May, which was Sunday, Divine service was performed at the fort, and IMr. Banks, at the suggestion of the commander, brought Tubonrai Tomaide, a native chieftain, and his wife Tomio, in hopes that their (juestions might open the door for some religious instructions. But the time for conversions was not yet. Neither to Captain Cook nor to Sir Joseph Banks was the glory assigned to turn the Heathen into the way of truth. Tulxnirai and Tomio behaved very well, imitating Sir Jose])h, who sat between them, most sedulously kneelins: when he knelt, and standing when he stood : they seemed to be aware that they were engaged in some serious business, for they .172 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. imperatively willed on the people without the fort to be silent, but mIicii all was over they asked no cjucstions and would listen to no explanations. Tubonrai Tomaide had hitherto shewed a respect to property, very luuisual among his countrymen, but on the 15th the temptation of a biisket of nails was too strong for his virtue. It was left in a corner of ]\Ir. Banks's tent, to which the chief had always access. It was irresistible. Five nails were missing, and one of them inadvertently peeped out beneath the c-l'ieftain's garment. Had Tubonrai possessed the spirit of the Spartan boy, he w^ould have preferred hiding the nails in his flesh to having them found upon him : but an Otaheitan is not a Spartan, so Tubonrai confessed the theft, but was very unwilling to make restitution. Restitution, however, was insisted on and promised, but never performed. No rough means w^ere resorted to ; Tubonrai took his departure tp Epasse, (his province or government,) and did not appear at the fort till the 25th, when he was received with a coldness and reserve which seemed to give him pain, but did not make him bring back the nails. The good heart of Sir Joseph was much wounded by this dereliction of the only Otaheitan wliom he had suspected of honesty. Tubonrai had, on apfornier occasion, been accused luijustly of stealing a knife, and resented the imputation in a manner that shewed him not altogether insensible to its disgracefulness. So, at least, our voyagers, or Dr. Hawkesworth for them, interpreted his tears, (for the tears of an Otaheitan are as fluent as a spoiled child's or an ancient hero's,) but we think it probable, that if his sense was at all aggrieved at the accusation, it was not on the score of dishonesty, but of ingratitude and dishonour. Moralists arc apt to consider lionour as an acquired notion ; honesty, or an equitable regard to the me^im and tumn as coeval with the eai'liest dawn of human reason. But we believe the reverse to be the case, as any one who closely observes the habits of children, or of uncultivated men, may easily perceive. It requires a high degree of moral education to make men understand the sacredncss of property, abstractedly considered as such. Few school- boys feel any com{)unction at robbing an orchard, especially if it be their master's. Piracy and robbery were long the honoured employ- ment of heroes. But school-boys and pirates always have acknowledged, if not observed, a bond amongst themselves, and can always understand the obligation of a kindness conferred or received. On the 27th, Sir Joseph Banks suflTered a much more serious inconvenience from tlic Otaheitan ignorance or disregard of the eighth couimandment than the loss of the nails, which moreover furnished that wicked wag Peter Pindar with what he doubtless regarded as fair CAPTAIN JAMKS COOK.. r)73 ji^nnic. Ohcrca, :i stati'lj' niiddlc-iifffd lady, wlioni Ca])tain Wallis, erroneously, as it ajjpeared, liad taken for the Queen of tiie island, with her attenchuits, male and female, including her paramour Ohadee, and lier hiijh priest and ])riine minister Tupia, paid a visit to Toot^ihah, at the same time that our voya<^ers were honouring; liini with a visitJition, to procure the delivery of certain hojrs, wliich had hceii promised and paid for. As tlie assemblage on this occasion was unusually great, there occurred an accident, tliat often results from royal visits in more civilized communities, a scarcity of sleeping acconnnodations. Sir Joseph, says Dr. HawkesM'orth, in the name of Captain Cook, thought himself fortunate in being offered a ])l;ice in Oberea's canoe, (the cauoes of the Otahcitans are often seventy feet long, but liad Oberea's been less, it would have f)ccasioned no scandal,) and M-ishing his friends a very good night took his leave. "He went to rest early, according to the custom of the country, and taking off his ch)thes, as was his constant practice, the nights being hot, Oberea kindly insisted upon taking them into her own custody, for otherwise, she said, they would certainly be stolen. ]\Ir. Banks having such a safeguard, resigned himself to sleep with all imaginable tranquillity, but awakening about eleven o'clock, and Vanting to get up, he searched for his clothes where he had seen them de])osited by Oberea when he lay do\Mi to sleep, and soon perceived that they were missing. He immediately awalcened Oberea, who starting up, and hearing his com])laint, ordered lights, and ])repared in great haste to recover what he had lost : Tootahah himself slept in the next canoe, and being soon alarmed, he came to them and set out with Oberea in search of the thief; Mr. Banks was not in a condition to go with them, for of his apparel scarce any thing was left him /;/// Ids breeches ; his coat and his waistcoat, with his pistols, powder-horn, and many other things that were in his jxK'kets, being gone. In about half an hour his two noble friends returned, but without having obtained any intelligence <»f his clothes or of the thief. At first he began to be alarmed ; his musfpiet had not indeed been takan away, but he had neglected to load it ; where I and Dr. Solander had disposed of ourselves he did not know, and therefore whate\ er might happen, he could ni)t have recourse to us for assistance. He thought it best, hoMCver, to express neither fear nor suspicion of those about him ; and giving his musquet to Tupia, who had been waked in the confusion and stood by him, with a charge not to suffer it to be stolen, he betook himself again to rest, declaring himself perfectly satisfied with the pains that Tootahah and OJK'rea liad taken to recover his things, though they had not been succcssfid. As it cannot be supposed that in such a situation ho slept very sound. r)74 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. he soon after heard music, and saw lights at a little distance on shore. This was a concert or assenibh'^ M'hich they call a Hclou, a common name for every public exhibition, and as it would necessarily briiiir many people together, and there vras a chance of my being among them with his other friends, he rose and made tlie best of his way towards it ; he was soon led by the lights and the sound to the jjlace where I lay with the other three gentlemen of otu- j)arty, and easily dis- tinguishing us from the rest, he made up to us more than half naked, and told his melancholy story. We gave him such comfort as the unfortunate generally give to each other^ by telling him that we \vere fellow sufferers. I shewed that I myself was without stockings, they having been stolen from under my head, though I was certain I had never been asleep, and each of my associates convinced him, by his appearance, that he had lost a jacket. We determined, however, to hear out the concert, however deficient in point of dress; it consisted of four flutes, three drums, and several voices ; when this entertain- ment, which lasted about an hoiu-, was over, we retired again to our places of rest, having agreed that nothing could be done towards the recovery of our things till the morning. " We rose at day-break (Sunday 28th), according to the custom of the country. The first man that ]Mr. Banks saw was Tupia, faithfully guarding his musquet ; and soon after Oberca brought him some of her country clothes as a succedaneum for his own, so that when he came to us he made a most motley appearance, half Indian and half English. Our party soon got together, except Dr. Solander, whose quar- ters we did not know, and who had not joined in the concert ; in a short time Tootahah made his appearance, and we pressed him to recover our clothes ; but neither he nor Oberea could be persuaded to take any measxn*e for that purpose, so that we began to suspect that they had been parties in the theft. About eight o'clock we were joined by Dr, Solander, who had fallen into honester hands, at a house about a mile distant and had lost nothing."* As our unfortunate adventurers were returning to the boat, they had the consolation (if such it was) of seeing the wonderful d(!xterity of the Otaheitans in swimming amid a tremendous surf. The inhabitants of * Hawkesworth's Voyages. Vol. 2d, page 132. — Dr. Hawkesworth, by making the commanders whose adventures he narrates, speak in the first person, has certainly made his book a great deal prettier reading than it would have been if he had appeared himself as the historian ; but still, after all that has or can be said in defence of this method, it converts history into historical romance, and makes the Doctor, instead of the veracious recorder of important facts, no better than a poor imitator of Dc Foe. CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 575 tropical cliiuates,\vlir wc are women ; a cry which had never failed to gain admissiijn to an European vessel before. As the day of the transit was now at hand, Mr. Cook, in pursuance of a suggestion of Lord Morton, sent out two parties provided with the requisite instruments ; the one to Eimeo, an island to the westwai'd of Otahcite, and the other to a stivtiou on tlie shore, to tlie east of the observatory, with a view to compare the different observations, and ward as far as possible, against the chiince (jf failure. All was now in readiness ; the astronomers on the tip-toe of ex])ectation, watching now the sky, now the chronometer, and then the barometer. The pleasures of science, however pure and salutary, are liable to disappointment as well as those of more questionable character. A clou, any proficiency in Greek or Latin short of that OjG CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. was some little diversity in the different observations, owinj; to a halo around tlie body of tlie planet, supposed to be its atmosphere, which very much disturbed the times of contact, particularly the internal ones, i. e. the points when the planet was completely immersed in the sun, and when it began to emerge. Fr«mi this celestial ])ha3nomenon, the ground on Avhich the observatory stood was christened Point Venus, though possibly it might have deserved the appellation on other accounts. This was the astronomers' day of happiness ; the reward of all their pains, privations, shiverings, scorchings, salt diet, tossing to and fro, sea-sickness, and incarceration on ship board, which, in the opinion of Dr. Johnson, only differs from imprisonment in the county gaol by being much more disagreeable. While the officers and savants were absorbed in observation and calculation, some of the ship's crew broke into one of the store rooms^ which enables to read and understand an author with vernacular fluency, and without the iuter\-ention of English, is of no use at all, any further than the practice of construing may give a command of language, very dearly purchased by the confusion which a superficial knowledge of derivations introduces into our apprehension of the primary meaning and collateral application of words. That a good classical scholar will understand his native tongue better than a man of only one language is more than probable, but the classic smatterer will be found to think more vaguely, and express his thoughts less precisely, than the mere English scholar of the same calibre of intellect. Sensible women, who have small French and no Latin, commonly express themselves both viva voce, and on paper, much better than their husbands and brothers, because they say the words which their thoughts bring along with them, whereas men used to construe, are always construing their thoughts into a diction as alien and unnatural as if they actually thought in one language and spoke in another. To the female, language is the body of thought ; to the half taught male, the drapery. When we consider that in nothing has the discipline of intellect .so strong a bearing on the moral being, as in what regards the just appreciation of words, we cannot think this a matter of light importance. Far be it from us to favoiu" any system of education which would consign the beautiful works of antiquity to neglect and oblivion ; but for those whose school days must necessarily be few, we very much doubt the expediency of giving any of that precious time to grammars and lexicons, unless the mind be of a very fanciful or poetical turn, «r possess the peculiar faculty of a linguist. Latin and Greek should always make a part of the erudition of an idle gentleman, and of a professional scholar, but may well be dispensed with by the great and valuable class, who are destined to the active employments of life. For the satisfaction of the few, who are unfortunat(! enough to be even more ignorant of astronomy thau ourselves, we may take the liberty to state that the transit, or passage of a planet over the sun's disk, is an unfrequent phaenomenon, only inci- dent to the inferior planets (those revolving between the earth and the sun), and of great importance in determining the distances of the heavenly bodies from the sun, from the earth, and from each othei'. CAPTAIN JAMKS COOK. ;777 and stole a ruiantity of spike nails. This was a very serious disaster, for the inipntvidcnt distribution of the booty amonp; the islanders tended to bring down tlie vahie of iron, the staple commodity. One of the thieves was detected, but, though punished with two dozen lashes, he refused to inform against his accomplices. Sunday the 4th of June was, in strictness of speech, the King's birth day, but the celebration was deferred till the 5th, in order that all the parties might unite in the festivities at Point "\''enus. Events, trivial as this, arc not without interest, when they carry the thoughts and feelings of man half across the glolx?. Narratives of voyages never are dull books, though they may sometimes have been written by very dull men. Their tedious minuteness is often their greatest charm. We are always interested to know what an Englishman was doing at half past ten at night on the Pacific Ocean. Several native chieftains were present at the commemoration, who drank the King's health under the name of Kihiargo, the nearest approximation their organs could make to King George, It was extremely amusing to hear the metamorphoses which these islanders, whose own language, soft, liquid, and melodious, was easily mastered even by the common seamen of the Endeavour, effected upon the crabbed, consonant-croAvded names of their visitors. The commander was Toote, Mr. Hicks, Hcte (a mani- fest improvement) ; Boba was INIr. Robert JMolineux, the sailing master, for IMoliueux was quite unapproachable ; J\Ir. Gore was Toaro ; Dr. Solander, Torimo ; iMr. Banks, Tapank ; IMr. Parkinson, Vatini; ]\Ir. Green, Eteree, and ^Mr. Petersgill, Petrodcro. It is manifest how much the northern roughness of our appellatives is softened by Otaheitan Italianization. A skilful lins:uist miirht have derived many useful hints and agreeable speculations as to the formation of languages from this pretty miscalling. Soon after the transit, our voyagers had an oppportunity of witness- ing an Otaheitan funeral. In few matters have savage, not to say civilized nations, betra3'ed greater absurdities than in fiuieral rites ; and yet, the respect almost universally paid to the remains of mortality has been held, and not unwisely, a symptom of a stirring instinct and foreboding of immortality. The Otaheitan custom seems admirably calculated to bring on a pestilence; yet, before tlieir commerce with Europeans, it is said that epidemic disease was unknown among these islanders. Previous to interment the bodies are exposed in a shed, and not removed till all the flesh is putrified away ; then the bones are buried. In so warm a climate the decom])osition niust go on rapidly. Along with the body, which is laid «»ut under a canoe awning, covered with fine cloth, some articles of food are placed, as an offering to the 4d 578 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. gods, tliough, as they do not believe tlnit the gods eat, tliis offering must be considered as merely ceremonial. Like the ancient Greeks and Orientals, the Otaheitans signalize their grief by wounding their bodies, which is jjerfornied with a shark's tooth. Fragments of cloth, stained with blood and tears are thrown upon the body. The relatives of the deceased occupy, for some time, a habitation near the place of sepulture, and the chief mourner another.* •The following account of an Otahcitan funeral is taken from the "Family LibrarjV' voL 25. It refers to the period of which we are writing, and admirably illustrates the two points of character we so much love and commend in Sir Joseph, his passion for observation, and his catholic spirit of accormnodation, undaunted by " the world's dread laugh." "An old woman having died, Mr. Banks, whose pursuit was knowledge of every kind, and who, to gain it, made himself one of the people, requested he might attend the ceremony, and witness all the mysteries of the solemnity of depositing the body in the Morai or burying place. The request was complyed with, but on no other condition than his taking a part in it. This was just what was wished. In the evening he repaired to the house, where he was received by the daughter of the deceased and several others, amongst whom was a boy about fourteen years of age. One of the chiefs of the district was the principal mourner, wearing a fantastical dress. Mr. Banks was stripped entirely of his European dress, and a small piece of cloth was tied round his middle. His face and body were then smeared with charcoal and water, as low as to the shoulders, till they were as black as those of a negro. The same operation was performed on the rest, among whom were some women, who were reduced to a state as near nakedness as himself — the boy was blacked all over ; after which the procession set forward, the chief mourner having mumbled something like a prayer over the body. It is the custom of the Indians to fly from these processions with the utmost precipita- tion. On the present occasion, several large parties of the natives were put to flight ; all the houses were deserted, and not a single Otaheitan was to be seen. The body being deposited on a stage erected for it, the mourners were dismissed to wash themselves in the river, and to resume their customary dresses, and customary gaiety." There is at least a consistency in blacking the body for mourning, where the body is tatooed for ornament. To the latter operation Sir Joseph Banks never submitted, though we doubt not he would have endured it, if his so doing would have elucidated any point of the history of nature or of manj especially as the Otaheitans seldom tatoo the face. A man who makes the pursuit and enlargement of knowledge his main earthly object, should stop at nothing but crime to obtain it. Such a man was Sir Joseph Banks, and no duty, inherited or assumed, forbad the indulgence of his passion. But there are many situations in which it is, in the present state of society, a moral obligation to refrain from whatever has a tendency to the ridiculous. It would have been by no means proper for Captain Cook to have appeared at the funeral in Otaheitan mourning. It would neither have suited the dignity of his office, nor the gravity of his character. In fact, there arc some people that may be laughed at, and not the less respected, and others who may not. In order to ascertain which genus you belong to yourself, you have only to consider whether there is any thing in your CAPTAIN JAMF.S COOK. 570 On the 12th of Juno, some of tlio islanders came to complain that two of the seamen had stoK-n their Ikjws and arrows, and some strings of plaited hair. The charge was investigated, and brought home; the offenders were punished with two dozen lashes. It is not mentioned whether the Otaheitans betrayed the same sensibility on this as on a former (X^casion. Their bows and arrows are merely used for sport, or for killing birds. In battle they use only slings and javelins. Tubourai Tamaide could send a shaft more than the sixth part of a mile. He shot kneeling, and dropped his bow as soon as the arrow was discharged. Sir Joseph Banks in his morning walk met some Otaheitan minstrels, who poured forth extempore strains, mostly in praise of their English visitors, accompanied by the music of two flutes and three drums. The drummers were the improvisatori. The filching disposition of the Otaheitans increasing with impunity, ]\Ir. Cook resolved if possible to check it by some decisive step. He hatl strictly prohibited his men from firing on any pretext at the natives, as he justly thought that he had no right to act after the English law, in a country where no such law had been promulgated. It seemed the best expedient to retaliate by seizing certain canoes laden with fish. Twenty canoes and their freight were detained, and notice was given, that unless the stolen articles were restored, the canoes would be burned ; a threat which there was no intention of putting in force. A list of the lost and stolen was made out, consisting of a coal-rake, the sentry's musquet. Sir Joseph's pistols, a sword, and a water cask. The Otaheitans thought to com])ound the matter, by bringing back the rake only, and begged hard to have their canoes released, as the fish was spoiling. But IMr. Cof»k insisted on the original condition. This firnniess however did not produce its usual eflFects, and he was obliged at last to give up the canoes without recovering the lost property. About the same time a deadly offence was committed by an ofiicer of the Endeavour, who had gone ashore to get ballast for the ship, and personal or cflicial character which any one with whom you are likely to come in contact wishes to despisf. Now, if you exercise an authority founded on that vague kind of fear which is the common substiUite for respect, you may be pretty sure that you have. If your duty or vocation oblige you to exercise sway over course, boisterous, uncultivated minds — over men of strong passions and little sensibility— over proud men, or conceited boys, be suK that you have those who would hold you in contempt if they dare. Or if your virtue wears a severe aspect, and requires to be well known before it can be loved, depend upon it that tht- world is weary of reverencing you, and will shout triumph wheu you furnish it with a nasoiiabU- pretext for holding you up to scorn. •580 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. not finding any stones adapted for the purpose, began to demolish a i\Iorai or sej)ulchral pile. The islanders violently opposed this proceeding, and sent a messenger to the fort, signifying that no such profanation would be permitted. Sir Joseph, as usual, was the peace- maker. The petty officer must have been a blockhead. On anotlier occasion I\Ir. IMonkhouse, the surgeon, pulling a flower from a tree in a sepulchral enclosure, received a violent blow on the back of the head from one whose forefathers slept beneath the violated shade. He grappled the assaulter, but two other natives came and rescued him. Most nations, however ignorant, pay some respect to the depositaries of the dead, nor has any refinement of philosophy been able to argue the feeling away. On the 19th, while the canoes were still detained, Oberea and her train arrived at the fort. She blushed not to request a night's lodging in Sir Joseph's tent; but his loss was too recent for even his gallantry to forget, so the lady was obliged to spend the hours of repose in her canoe. She had spirit and sensibility enough to feel this rebxxke very severely, and the next morning she returned to the fort, and put herself, her canoe, and all that it contained into the power of the stranger. A hog and a dog were the price of reconciliation ; and now, for the first time. Captain Cook and his friends tasted dog's flesh. Tupia, the priest, after the manner of the ancient Popae, was both butcher and cook ; but his method of extinguishing life by holding his hands over the animal's nose and mouth, took a full quarter of an hour; and his mode of baking the dog with hot stones, in a hole dug in the ground, was very tedious ; but the dog made an excellent dish. The esculent dogs are fed entirely upon yams, cocoa-nuts, and other vegetables. All meat and fish is cooked in the same way; but hogs and dogs are the only quadrupeds eaten, and the poultry is very indifferent. On the 21st the fort was visited by Oamo, the husband of Oberea, from whom she was separated by mutual consent, and they lived as amicably as any other neighbours; with him came the heir apparent, a minor, under the guardianship of Toothah, who exercised command in his name. Oberea and her attendants made their obeisance, by uncovering themselves from the waist upward. By a most singular law of succession, the child succeeds to its father's authority and title as soon as it is born, the father continuing to administer government as regent ; but in this case the claims of Oamo were superseded in favour of Tootahah, who had distinguished himself as a warri(tr. The young prince was betrothed to his sister, an Egyptian fashion ; though she was sixteen and he no more than seven. Neither of these young people CAPTAIN JAxMES COOK. 581 were j)eriiiittc'cl to enter the tent. They were the chiklren of Oaino and Oberea. On the 2(Jth of June, Mr. Cook with Dr. Solander, ^Ir. Banks, and a communicative Otaheitan called Tituboahj, set out to make a circuit of the island, and discovered that it consists of two peninsulas united by a neck of swampy ground, about two miles across, over which the islanders use to carry their canoes, as the Greeks in thePeloponesian war transported their triremes over the isthmus of Corinth. By their guide, Tituboalo, they were informed that each peninsula has its own king, (though the whole island was formerly under one head). The sovereigns are independent, but the rider of Opoureonu, the north-western penin- sula, claimed a sort of homage from him of Tiarraboo or Otaheite Nuz, the eastern moiety of the isle. Our voyagers were introduced to Waheatua, the king of Tiarraboo, who was seated at ease under a canoe awning, no inelegant or unfitting canopy of state in a country where marine has far outstripped civil architecture. They also visited their friend Tootahah, and other chieftains, and were exceedingly well received every where. Hospitality, and something like politeness to strangers, are amiable qualities that cling to man in a lower state of moral culture than any others ; they seem to precede or survive the maternal affection itself. Hospitality and revenge are the highest moral obliga- tions of savage ethics. The gods of Homer, though not remarkable for their care of morals, except where their personalities were concerned, as in case of perjury and sacrilege, broken vows and neglected sacrifice^ nevertheless avenged the poor and the stranger.* In civilized commu- nities, strangers are generally objects of caution and mistrust. To the barbarian, the new-comer must be either a guest or an enemy.t The most remarkable objects which our voyagers beheld in this excursion bore relation to death. The one was a semicircular board, to which were appended fifteen human jaws, fresh, and with all the teeth entire. No account could be obtained of this ghastly exhibition ; but it might easily have been conjectured that these jaws were trophies, like the scalps of the North American Indians, the bones with which the Ashantees ornament their di-ums, or the bleeding heads which the Huns fastened to their horses' necks. Was it in a milder spirit that the *See Odyssee, B. xi. 207; xiv. 57; ix. '270. f I remember to have heard a lady who had spent much time among the North American Indians, describe the ophiions of one of the nations as to a future state to this effect: — The way to their paradise lies over a bridge of a hair's breadth, like the Alsirat of the Moslems ; over this narrow passage those only can go in safety who can produce the scalps of their enemies, and from whose door the stranger was not turned away. a82 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. heroes of IMorat piled up the skulls of the Biu'jrundians, and affixed thereto that memorable inscription — "A. D. 1476, Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, unjustly invading Switzerland, left this monument." The other was the grand JMorai or Mausoleum of Oberca. There is scarcely a cape or promontory in the whole circuit of the isle, on which one of these sepidchral edilices is not to be seen ; but the royal sepulchre was fiir more magnificent than the others. Had the Otahcitans been a Christian, or any wise a religious people, we might laud their piety in dedicating their only solid architecture to the departed. As it is, there is a whimsical contrast between the slight sheds which suffice for their living bodies, and the massy piles they prepare for their lifeless relics. An Otahcitan house, if it deserve that appellation, is merely a pointed roof, thatched with palm or banana leaves, and supported by three rows of posts, about nine feet high in the centre, while the eaves reach to within two feet of the ground. It is open on all sides ; no wattling fills the inter-columniatious. The floor is uniformly covered with soft hay, on which the family sleep by night and recline by day ; the master and his wife in the middle, the unmarried females on one side, and the young batchelors on the other. If European delicacy be shocked at this, be it recollected that not so much separation obtains in many a hovel, rustic and urban, Cornish and Irish, that owns the sway of the "Defender of the Faith." In these levelling days, too, some may take oflfence at another regulation ; the Toutoos, or domestics, are not allowed to sleep under the thatch at all, unless it rains very hard, and then they may just creep under the eaves. But there is no great diflference in Otaheite whether you sleep under a shed or under a tree, except for the honour of the thing, far less than there is between the scullion's attic in a great English house, and the hovels which serve the really servile part of our population for chamber, kitchen, parlour, and all, to say nothing of the multitudes who seldom pass the night under a roof, except when they are in j)rison. But although these dormitories* (for they are nothing else) may seem to contribute little to the comfort, and not at all to the privacy of the Otahcitans, they must add greatly to the beauty and interest of the * Besides these pervious homestalls, which serve the bulk of the pojiulation, there are another sort of tabernacles, appropriated to the chiefs; moveable pavilions, formed of trellis-work, closely covered with coctfa-nut leaves. They are, like the sheds of the commonalty, seldom used except in the hours of repose ; but the chieftain and his wife are privileged to lie by themselves. There are also public buildings, large enough to accomodate the whole population of a district, at times of general assembly, some of them as much as 200 feet long, and 50 feet high in the centre. CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 083 prospect. Tlicy are almost invariably erected in the woods, and cmly just enough s[)ace is cleared fur them to prevent the thatch from being injured l)y the drippings of the trees; so that the inmates have but to step from their y kind usage and accustoming them to the sight of European articles, he might promote a treaty of commerce. This scheme Mas not successful, and produced the most culpable act in u liich the great navigator w;is. 596 CAPTAIN JAMKS COOK. engaged. On IMonday the S)tli, he had set out with three boats to make a circuit of tlie bay in search of fresh water. He saw two canoes coming in from sea, one under sail, and tlie other worked M'ith paddles. He endeavoured to intercept one of them, which contained four men and three boys, before it got to land. In this he failed, for their paddles outrun the boat. Tupia called to them, but they would not stop, A mus([uet was tired over their heads, which provoked instead of terrifying them. They ceased paddling and begun to strip, clothes like theirs being an incumbrance in battle, and when the boat came up attacked it so lustily with tlieir paddles, staves, and pikes, that the crew were forced to tire in their own defence, and the four men were killed. The three boys then leaped into the water, but were taken and forced into the boat in spite of their resistance. At first the poor youths were overwhelmed with grief and consternation, expecting nothing but in- stant death. But as soon as they were convinced that their lives were safe, their terror was converted to an ecstacy of joy and gratitude. They sang, danced, and eat voraciously, particularly of salt pork, which was peculiarly agreeable to their palates, possibly from tlie alleged resem- blance of swine's to human flesh. Inordinate devouring is common to all islanders of the pacific, perhaps to savage tribes in general, whose stomachs possess an elasticity which enables them to endure degrees of inanition and of repletion incredible to an European gastronome. The utmost civic achievements in the turtle way fall far short of a Kam- scadale's excesses in wliale blubber. After an enormous supper, the three young Indians retired to rest. When left alone, their melan- choly returned, and they were heard to moan and sigh deeply, but by the enlivening assurances of Tupia, whom they regarded, if not quite as a countryman, yet as a creature of the same species as them- selves, they recovered their spirits in the morning, did abundant justice to breakfast, and favoured the company witli a song. " The tune," says Cook, " was slow and solemn, like our psalm tunes, contain- ing many notes and semitones." They were then dressed and adorned with bracelets, anklets, and necklaces, which gave them the utmost delight. When first told that they M'ere to be set ashore, they expressed great satisfaction, Imt, being shewn the place wliere it was proposed to land them, their courage sunk within them, and they earnestly implored not to be left there, " because," said they, " that district belonged to their enemies, who would kill and eat them." This the English took at iirst for the exaggeration of terror, for they had not yet ascertained the existence of cannibalism among this people. Their fears were once more dispelled, when, on going ashore with their commander and a boat's crew, one of them espied his uncle among a group of Indians ou CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 597 the l>oach. Still they were uiiwilliiiuv little Otalieitaii gained the sliij) uulmrt. The point off which this incident took place was forthwith named Cape Kidnappers. Octoljer 18. The Endeavour hiy abreast of a peninsula, called Ter- kake, within Portland isle. Two native chiefs were so Uiken with the EiififlishjOr their presents that theyinsisted on reniaininj^ahoard all nii^ht, to which Lieutenant Cook somewhat liositatioi^ly consented, hut the frank, open countenance of one of them disarmed his suspicions, iSext morning, when set ashore, they expressed their surprise at linding tlicmselves so far from their own habitations. IMonday, October 23. Endeavour laying in Tegadoo-bay. Cook went ashore to examine the watering-place, and found every thing to his wishes. The boat landed in the cove without the least surf ; wood and M'ater w^ere plentiful, and the people well disposed. Tuesday 24th. ]\Ir. Gore, \vith a guard, was sent to superintend the cutting of M-ood, and the iilling of water. On this day. Sir Joseph and Dr. Solander landed and enjoyed the sight of several natural curiosities, among the rest of "a rock perforated through its whole substance, so as to form a rude but stupendous arch or cavern opening directly to the sea; this aperture was sevcnty-iive feet long, twent3--seven broad, and five and forty feet high, conunanding a view of the ba\', and tlie hills on the other side." Tegadoo-bay was found by observation to be in latitude 38° 22' 24" south. Having sailed in a southern direction as far as Cape Tur- ragain in latitude 40° 34' our voyagers turned to the north. On the 28th October they were in Toluga bay. The scientific gentlemen went ashore on a small island at the entrance of tlie bay, where they observed the largest canoe they had yet seen ; her length being sixty- eight feet and a half, her breadth five feet, and her height three feet six. They also saw a house of unusually large dimensions, but unfinished. Dr. Solander, among other trifles purchased a top of the natives, exactly resembling that European toy to'which Virgil did not disdain to com- pare a queen. The sellers made signs that it was to be set in motion by whipping. At day ijreak, on the 1st November, lying in a bay which Lieutenant Cook named after his faithful ofiicer Hicks, the Endeavour was sur- rounded by no less than forty canoes, followed by others from a different ([uartcr, and manned by as impudent thieves as are commonly to be met with, taking what was offered as the price of their conunodities, making nt> return, and laughing triumphantly at their own cleverness. One fellow in particular displayed a vidour and coolness which it is hard not to admire even in an onharefaced pilferer. Some linen hanging over the ship's side to dry, he calmly untied it and put it into his bundle, then dropping astern with his canoe he laughed heartily. A nuisipiet fin d (JOO CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. ovei' his lie;ul did not put a stop to his mirth, aud thouj^h a second mus- quet charged with suiall shot struck him on tlie back, he minded it no more than a jack-tar would do the stroke of a rattan, but persevered in packing up his booty. All the canoes dropped astern, and set up a song of defiance. Cook was loth to hurt these hoklfree-traders, whose offence certainly did not deserve death by the universal law of reason, yet it was necessary to shew that the English were not to be robbed and insulted M-ith impunity. To have suffered this bravado to become a national boast and precedent would have super-induced the necessity of whole- sale slaughter, or obliged the Endeavour to quit the shores of New Zea- land without accomplishing one object worthy of her destination. To convince the savages that their security arose, not from the impotence, but from the forbearance of the civilized, the four-poundei- Mas fired in such a direction that the shot only just missed the canoes, whizzing, and making ducks and drakes along the waves. This put the rowers upon their speed, and effectually quashed their exultation. The same method was occasionally resorted to in subsequent emergencies, and sometimes seconded by a discharge of small shot, by which some peculi- arly insolent personages were slightly peppered ; but the case of these con- dign sufferers excited little ajjpreheusion and no compassion in their com- rades, any farther than to render them rather more circumspect in their attempts at imposition. Continuing their course to the north west, after nearing the islet of iMowtohora, and narrowly escaping some very dangerous rocks, our voy- agers fixed on a convenient bay, defended by an island which they christ- ened the IMayor, (probably in honour of Lord Mayor's Day,) to observe the approaching transit of Mercury. On the 9th of November, being Lord ]Mayor's Day, Lieutenant Cook, Mr. Green, Sir Joseph Banks. Dr. Solauder, and others, equipped with the requsite instruments, went ashore to make the observations which was performed by Mr. Green alone, the commander meanwhile taking the sun's altitude ; the weather which had been hazy in the early part of the day, cleared up in time to allow the transit, and its attendant phienomenon to be accurately observed. By taking the mean of several observations it was ascertained that Mercury Bay, lies in south lati- tude 36° 47' west longitude 184^4". , It seemed to have been appointed by destiny that the value of Cook should ever and anon be testified by some fatal accident in his absence. While he was engaged in the astronomical business on shore, an affray took place l>etween his crew and the natives, on the usual ground of fraudulently dealing and defiance, in which Gore, the ofiicer in com- mand, shot one man dead. Had the great navigator been on board, a few small shot would have answered every good purpose, that could be CAPTAIN JAMRS COOK. («)1 intondod by tlio niunloroiis luillct. Yet Goro probably had no greater love of bloodshed than belongs to every sportsman ; he felt that the honour of the British Hag was to be vindicated from foreign insult, and did not reflect that a savage, like an idiot or a maniac, is inaipable of insulting. Several days were spent in exploring the vicinity of Mercury Bay, the accommodations of which Cook was desirous of noting down for the ])enefit of future navigators. Not the least of these was an excellent supply of oysters, no way inferior to those of Colchester, whose fame was rife in imperial Rome, and worthy of comparison with the more recently celebrated Powldoodies. From these testacious dainties, the river which disembogues itself into Mercury Bay, received the name of Oyster River. Thus Astronomy and G;ustronomy contributed to form a nomenclature at the Antipodes.* Another stream enters the l)ay, which from the (piantity of mangroves growing in it, was named Man- grove River. Both the rivers brought down much iron sand, a sure indication tliat th.e metal exists in the island, though the natives were quite ignorant of its use, and could not readily comprehend its value. Unlike the Otaheitans, who would hardly trade for any thing but iron, the New Zealanders j)referred cloth, ])eads, or indeed the merest trifles. On the 15th Novcnd)er, tlie Endeavour sailed out of IMercury Bay, but not before the names of the ship and its commander, with the date of the year and montli, were carved on a tree at the watering place. Men ever like to leave records of their existence. How many of us have scribbled our insignificant names, where they had less chance of being recognized than those of Cook and his comrades of lieing read, thoucrh in a land where letters were unknown ! The usual ceremony of taking possession by hoisting the British flag in the king's name, which does not typify half so kindly a feeling, was not omitted, though the right of discovery, the only right which England could pretend, was clearly anticipated by Tasman, for the Dutch republic. In tlie range from 3Ierciuy Bay, a threatened attack of the natives afforded Tupia an opportunity of displaying his ehuiuence and readiness of mind in a very creditable manner. Indeed, the Otahcitiin priest possessed abilities which needed nothing but cultivation and a fair field to have set him on a par with the most famous diplomatic cardinals of European history : and then, to his praise, be it spoken " Peace was/i/j; doar doliglit, not Flcun 's more." On the 18th several canoes put forth from different points, but cvi. dently with a common ])urpose of hostility. Two of them, in which • New Zealand is very near the Antipodes of Loudon. 4g 602 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. there miglit lie as many as sixty men, as soon as tlicy came within hear- ing, set \ip tlio war-hoop, and advanced in figliting attitude. Seeing little notice taken of them, they commenced tlirowiug stones, then fell back, then advanced again, studiously provoking a contest. Tupia, of his own accord, without hint or command, began to expostulate and warn them of their peril, saying that the English had wea])ons against which theirs were utterly unavailing, and which would destroy them all in an instant. The undismayed islanders retorted, " Set a foot on shore, and we will kill you every one." Tupia rejoined — "Well, but why molest us while we keep the sea ? We do not wish to fight, and shall not go ashore, but the sea is no more yours than the ship." These arguments, though they surprised the English by their reasonableness, had no effect on the New Zealanders, but a musquet ball passing clean through one of the canoes sent them ashore in a hurry. The next station Avhere the Endeavour rested was the Bay of Islands, into which flows a river, called by our voyagers, the Thames. Here the botanists examined some very lofty trees, similar to those which they had seen in Poverty Bay, but not near enough to ascertain their dimen- sions or species. One was nineteen feet, eight inches in girth, at six feet from the ground, and Cook, taking its altitude with a quadrant, found it eighty-nine feet in height, and as it tapered very little, he computed that it must contain at least three hundred and fifty-six feet of solid timber, straight as a mast, for M'hich, however, it was too heavy, unless, as the ship-carpenter suggested, like the pitch-pine, it might be lightened by tapping. So little comprehensible was the humanity of Cook to the mere men of actif)n whom he was set over, that they seemed to delight in making up, during his absence, for the forbearance enforced upon them when under his eye. On the 22nd, while he was engaged on shore, Hicks thought proper to inflict the novel discipline of a round dozen on a young Zealander, who had laid hands on a half-minute glass. His countrymen on deck vainly attempted his rescue ; Sir Joseph and Tupia interceded in vain ; canoes crowded round the vessel, but dared not shew fight ; and w^hcn the criminal was untied and delivered up, he received a second bastinado from an old man, supposed to l)e his father, who prolmbly was more enraged at the disgrace incurred to his family and tribe, than indignant at the theft. This ])iece of subaltern authority produced a great alienation on the part of the natives, and next day. Cook and the gentlemen with him were surrounded in a small island where they had landed by an armed multitude, which exposed them to great peril, but, by the excellent management of the commander, tlioy were dispersed without bloodslied. On the same day Mr.Cook made three of his own crew CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 603 feci the cat-«»'-ninc-tails. Tlieso honest Euglishuieii, whu were so ready to avenge the viohition of pntperty, had broken into the native planta- tions, and violently Uken up the roots* with uhieh they were stocked, maintaining, in the teeth of their captain, that English christians had a right to plunder savages. On the 5th of December, the Endeavour was in imminent danger of Jx'ing wrecked while getting out of the Bay of Islands. She weighed anchor about four in the morning, but owing to the light breeze and frequent calms, made little way till in the afternoon, the tide or current setting strong, she drove so fast towards laud, that before any measures could \)C taken for licr security, she was within a cable's length of the breakers. The pinnace was hoisted out to take the ship in tow, the men exerted tliemselves to the utmost, a breeze sprang up oif the land, and our navigators rejoiced in their supposed deliverance. So near were they dashing on shore, that Tupia , who knew nothing of the peril which would have been none to Ivamah or Palde, kept up a conversa- tion with the people on the beach, whose voices were distinctly audible, in spite of the breakers. About an hour afterwards, the man in the cliains cried out " seventeen fathom" at the instant the ship was striking. So uneven, and if the term be allowable, mountainous is the sea's bot- tom in those parts. The rock being to the windward tlie ship pro- videntially came otF undamaged, and sailed away gallantly. On tlie 9th of December, the Endeavour being becalmed in Doubt- less Bay, the unavoidable delay was turned to profit by useful enqui- ries among the natives, from whom by Tupia's good interpretation, our navigator learned that at the distance of three days' row of a canoe, was a point called IMoore Whennua, at which the land would take a short • The potatoc, properly so called, was unknowu to the New Zealanders till Cook's second voyage, but they cultivated several species of roots, and the neatness of their plantations, considering their very clumsy gardening tools, was remarkable. Their staple food was a sort of fern root,which grows without culture all over the country; but they planted the sweet potatoe, (called in their language coomera) coeos or cddas, (a plant well known both in the East and West Indies,) some gourds, &c. Grain of any kind they were utterly tmacquainted with, and when wheat was first sown amongst them, dug it up, expecting to find the edible part at the root, like potatoes. Mr. Banks saw some of their plantations where the ground was as well broken down and tilled as even as in the gardens of the most curious persons among us. The sweet potatoes were placed in small hills, some ranged in rows, some in quincunx, all laid by a line with the greatest regularity. The cocos were planted upon ilat land, and the gourds were set in small hollows, much as in England. These plantations were of different extent, from one or two acres to ten. Ciwk's First Voijaoe, II, ;>. 113. We have been informed, that the potatoe mentioned by Talstart', in the Merry Wives of Windsor, ;us contributing to " the tempest of provocation" upon which the commentators have been so diffuse, was the sweet potatoe or coomera, and not our potatoc. It is but just to vindicate that useful vegetable from false accusations. 004 Captain james cook. turn to tlic soiitl), and thenceforth extend no farther to the west. Tliis point was concluded to Ik) Tasinan's Cape Maria Van Diemen, so named by the Dutch discoverer, after the daugliter of the Batavian Governor, the lady whose beloved image haunted him in all his wanderings over the deep. Finding the people disposed to be communicative, Mr. Cook questioned them whether they knew of any country besides their own, they told him that they had seen no other, but that some of their ances- tors had reported that there was a land to the north west, of great com- pass, called Ulimaroa, where the inhabitants eat Booak. Now Booak is the word used in Otaheite and the neighbouring islands for a hog, an animal which was at that time unknown in New Zealand. This little word therefore gave a perfect confirmation of the tradition. On the 13th of Deceml)er our voyagers came in sight of Cafe Maria Van Diemen. About Christmas, the Midsummer of the southern hemisphere, they were assailed by so tremendous a gale of wind, that had they not had good sea-room, it is questionable whether one would have returned to tell their tale.* They were five weeks in getting fifty • The Endeavour was not the only European vessel beating about the shores of New Zealand in that tremendous gale. On the very same day (Dec. 12) that Cook left Doubtless Bay behind him, a French vessel, the Saiut Jean Baptiste, under the command of M. de Surville, came in sight of the same part of New Zealand. De Sur- ville had sailed from India, in consequence of a report that the English had discovered an island, seven hundred leagues to the west of Peru, abundant in the precious metals, and inhabited by Jews. The inlet which Cook had called Doubtless, he named Latjriston Bay, in honour of the French Governor of India. He was most hospita- bly received by the natives, and by the natural address of a Frenchman, won their confidence and affection to a degree which the English could never attain. He suf- fered very severely by the Christmas storm ; a boat containing the invalidsof his crew, after the utmost peril of perishing, got into a small creek, which received the name Refuffc Cove. The sick men, were treated with all possible kindness by Naginoui, the chieftain of the adjoining village; they remained in his care, and fed upon his bounty (for which he would accept of no remuneration) till the storm was blown over. Such is the charm of French manners ! but mark the sequel ; De Surville on some suspi- cion that a boat of his had been stolen, enticed Naginoui on board the Saint Jean Baptiste, (why arc holy names thus desecrated ?) and forcibly took him away as a cap- tive, and not content with this, ordered the village where his invalids had been tended and cherished, to be burned to the ground — he nuisthave been a vuiy civilised villain. Poor Naginoui died of a broken heart off Juan Fernandez. Singular enough that two Europeans, of two nations, and of such opposite characters, without any nmtual com- munication, should arrive at the same point of an unknown land, in the same month. It is not at all singular that the worse of the two was the better received ; it only shews that New Zealand is composed of the same stuff as the rest of the Planet This story, it observed, is taken from the French narrative of the Abbe Rochon. We do not tell it to disparage the French character; if the best read man in France, and the best read man in England were pitted against each other, each to relate a villainy committed on the high seas by his opponent's countrymen, and he that had first CAPTAIN James cook. aoo lea^ies. On the 14tli of Jumiai-y, tliey juit into ;i harlHUir in Quken Charlotte's Sound, where it was j)roj)0.se(l t<» careen and repair the sliij), and take in supplies of wood and water. Good water was plenty, and for w(K)d the country was one vast forest. In this station they iirst obtained proof that canniltalisin was actually practised in New Zealand. Having one day g(»ne ashore for provisions, they found a family engaged in ceans had perished in New Zealand, between 1642 and 1769. While the Endeavoiu- lay in Queen Charlotte's Sound, Blr. Coolc, by rejwated observations, satisfied himself that the inlet of the seas, which he had partially explored, was a strait, and the coimtry to the north (called by the natives, Eaheinomauwe)an island, and resolved to make the passage. Previous to sailing, he erected two piles of stones, on separate eminences, in whicli lie concealed bullets, shot, coins, and other articles of European manufacture, to convince whatever European might arrive in those parts, that the honours of discovery were anticijiated. Not neglecting to take possession in the king's name, with the usual formali- ties, \\ hich, by an odd coincidence, Mas done on the 30th of January, and having christened the harbour Qiieen Charlotte's Sound, he prepared to depart, but was detained for some time by bad weather. Tiie violent wind and rain on the 31st put to silence tliose sweet little birds whose nightly serenade had never before been intermitted. On the oth Feb- ruary, 1770. the Endeavour got luidor sail, but the wind failing, came 008 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. fi^in to an anchor. To turn this delay to some account, Sir Joseph and Dr. Solaiider went on shore to see if any gleanings of natural knowledge remained, and in the course of their excursion, fell in with the most delightful family they had yet found in New Zealand ; so pleasant, so affable, so unsuspecting, so communicative, that it was (juite heart- breaking not to have made their acquaintance before. On the 6th February, Lieutenant cleared the sound, and stood away for the East. In passing the strait, which justly bears the name of its discoverer, the Endeavour was in great peril of shipwreck from the violence of the ebb-tide driving her upon the rocks in the narrow between Cape Tiera- witte on the north and Cape Koamoroo to the south. Having escaped this, and surmounted some other difficulties, Mr. Cook established the insularity of Eaheinomauwe beyond contradiction ; and then proceeding southward from Cape Turnagain, he circumnavigated the southern divi- sion of New Zealand, (called Poenamoo) to the great advantage of geography and his own immortal honour, but without meeting any adventure which need detain our narrative. We must not, however, forget to mention, that Mr. Cook and the whole ship's company were on one occasion seriously alarmed for the safety of our friend, Sir Joseph, who, intent on the pursuit of strange birds, had rowed away out of the reach of prompt assistance, when four canoes and fifty-seven men, were seen to put forth, apparently with evil designs against the philosopher. Signals were made to apprize him of his situation, but the position of the sun prevented his seeing them. However, his boat was soon observed in motion, and he got safe on board before the people in the canoes, who gazed at the ship from a distance with a sort of stupid irresolute astonishment, took any notice of him. We may be sure he was heartily welcomed, for he was a man whose good nature made him as dear to the tars, who doubtless had many a laugh at his scientific enthusiasm, as to the philosophic commander, who appreciated and sympathised with that passion for natural knowledge, which led him to forego the English comforts of a plentiful fortune, and undergo the dangers and privations of a voyage of discovery. From the mixture of wonder and timidity exhibited by the natives on this occasion, Mr. Cook denominated the land whence they had put ofi^ the Lookers-on. An island further to the south, about five leagues from shore, received the name of Banks' Isle. It is not the only spot in the Pacific that preserves the memory of the adventurous philosopher. The circuit of Tavai Poenamoo commenced on the 9th of February, and was completed on tlie 27th of March, when the Endeavour anchored in Admiralty Bay, having surveyed the whole coast of New Zealand with an accui-acy which had left little for subseciucnt navigators to do. CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. (iOQ So perfect is CVxtk's cliajt that M. Crn/.ot doclarod tlit'rc wero few parts of the coast of France so accurately laid down. Tiie inj^enuity <>f a discoverer is often severely tasked in the invention of names, and much of individual or national character appears in the nomenclature of new- discovered countries. The Spaniards and Portuguese, who mingle their religion with every thing, with their common salutations, their loves, their wars, their very crimes, have tilled sea and land \» ith their ^aints and holy times, thick as the sky with heathen deities and mvtliological monsters. The Knglish, who did not commence discoverers till they were Protestants, have had either too little affection or too much rever- ence for Divine things to l)estow sacred names on earth or water. Any little circumstance attending the discovery, any fancied resemblance to what they had left at home, serves them to give a name, and these failing, their own names, or the king's, or (jueen's, or the ministers', or lords' of the admiralty will serve the turn. It is a pity that our sir- names are the ruggedest part of our language, as any one who will cast his eye over a map of the United States may be convinced. Luckily, Cook's earliest patron was Palliser, and really, Cape Palliser would not disgrace a sonnet. But Ilicks, and Banks, and Brett, and Hawke, and Saunders, absolutely make us regret the polysyllabic native nomencla- ture which they supplant, though Taoneroa, Shukehanga, Taranake, Wangarooa, IMoore-wheiuiua, and Tierawitte are a great deal too long for the shortness of English breath and human life. Seriously, it is always good to preserve native appellations when they can be ascertained, and this seems to have been Cook's general practice. When new names are to be given, they should be either descrij)tive or historical. No man will ever be remembered for having his name attixed to a rock or a river, who would not be remembered w ithout it. The calling of newly erected or discovered places after towns or rivers in the old world is very objec- tionable, as tending to confusion, though it arises from a natural feeling; a feeling which perhaps influenced Cook, when he marked out the banks of the Thames as the most eligible situation in New Zealand for a European settlement. Though the coasts of the two islands Merc satisfactorily surveyed, and the connection of New Zealand with a Southern continent disproved during Cook's lirst visit, little Mas observed of the interior. The utmost diligence of the naturalists left them imperfectly acquainted M'ith its natural productions. They saw no land (juadrupeds but dogs and rats, and even these are supposed not to be indigenous. Thev heard, indeed, of great lizards, or alligators," but never met with any. The • According to Captain Cruise, the New Zealandcrs believe that the .Atiia, or destroj'ing Daemon enters the body of the dying in the shape of a lizard, to devour 1 m' 610 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. paucity of quadrupeds in all the South-sea islands is a strong presump- tion that the isles are of coni])aratively recent formation; raised from the depths of ocean by the agency of volcanic fire, or gradually con- structed by the slow architecture of the coral insects, haply commenced at the beginning of time.* The prevalence of a mutually intel- ligible language proves indisputably that one race of men have peopled all the new-made spots that sprinkle the Pacific, and the radical identity of that language with the IMalay, demonstrates that the population came, perhaps at no remote period, from the East. The cultivated vegetables, the bread fruit, the cocoa tree, the banana, the plantain, the sweet pota- toe, point to the same quarter, and probably the hogs and poultry of the Society islands, and the dogs of New Zealand accompanied the first settlers in their migration. Seals are common on the New Zealand shores. Of insects few were discovered, but birds are very numerous, and for the most part of peculiar species. The most interesting are a kind of mocking bird, and the little nocturnal songsters of which we have already spoken. There are also many sorts of wild ducks, sea gulls, wood pigeons, rails, parrots, and paroquets. Before they had experienced the fatal powers of fire-arms, these birds had no fear of man, but would perch on the muzzle of a mus(juet. Now they fly away at the sight of an European, or a native armed Mith a gun (for the bow is unknown in New Zealand.) Who will say that birds ai'e without understanding, or improgressive, seeing they are capable of experience ? Dr. Solander observed about four hiuidred species of plants, most of them new. The timber trees are majestically straight and tall, and furnish almost the only articles of commerce which New Zealand has hitherto supplied. There is a kind of flax, a beautiful ])lant, the fibre of which the women work into the cloth which composes their dresses. This business is performed by the hand alone, upon pegs, in a mode similar to lace-making. Sir Joseph Banks had the honour of discover- ing a new sort of spinach, — the I'evagonia expansa — which lasts all summer. Its cultivation has succeeded in England, t his entrails. The animal is held in the utmost horror, and is said to make great havoc among children. But it does not appear that any European has seen it. May not its existence in New Zealand bo altogether problematical, and the supersti- tion connected with it traditionary from the first oriental settlers ? Do not the lions and serpents of early gothic fable, in like manner testify the oriental derivation of the Scandinavians'? * See Montgomery's " Pehcan Island" for a beautiful illustration of this Hypothesis. f Whoever is curious to be further informed concerning New Zealand and its inhabitants, and has not time, means, or inclination to consult many and bulky books, CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. fJl 1 It was now to be considered which way the ship should steer. The commander's wish was to return by Cape Horn, in order to ascertain the existence or non-existence of the long-expected southern continent, the expectation whereof was already much aliridijud. But the state of the vessel, and tiie season (»f the year, dissuaded tlie enterprise, which Cook Mas destined one day to perform. After some delilicratii)ii it wan resolved to steer westward, for the east coast of New Ildllaiid, and then track that coast to its northern extremity, and so return to Kngland by the East Indies. On Saturday the 31st of iMarch, 177^^ her bottom by the jagj^ed points of the coral, and were seen Moating about in the moonshine — every moment was making May for the waves to swaHow up all the lives in her. The sole trust was in lightening her of whatever could l)e spared ; and it was some comfort, that as the tide of ebb ran out, she began to settle, and was no longer beaten so violently from side to side. In extremity of peril, a little chance is a great hope, and one danger the less, a great deliverance. All hands .set to work with alacrity — almost with cheerfulness — some plying the pumps, some heaving overboard giuis, ballast, casks, staves, oil jars, decayed stores, all that was heavy and not indispensable. While they were thus employed, the morning of the lltli of June dawned upon them, and displayed the full prospect of their danger. Providentially the wind fell, and early in the morning it was a dead calm. If it had blown hard, their destruction had been inevitable. High water was expected at eleven, and all was prepared to heave off the vessel if she should Hoat ; but when the day tide came, it fell so far short of that of night, that though the ship had been lightened nearly fifty ton, she did not Hoat by a foot and a half. She had not yet admitted nuich water, but as the tide fell it rushed in so fast that she could hardly be kept free by the incessant Morking of two pumps. The most vigorous exertions were made to prepare for the tide at midnight, though it was too probable, from the gaining leak, and crazy state of the vessel, that she would go to pieces as soon as the rock ceased to support her — and then as it was impossible for the boats to save all, and subordination nuist be at an end, a frightful contest for preference Mould ensue, in Mliich all might perish. The shore Mas eight leagues distant, and no island intervened to which they might be speedily conveyed, and thence by turns to the main land. Amid these sad forebodings. Cook never relaxed a fibre of his diligence, determined to omit no point of his duty, though none should kiioM- whether he lived or was dead — nor Mas there a nnu-nuu- or breach of discipline in his crew. As the critical nu>ment approached, ho ordered the capstan and windlace to be manned M'ith as many hands as could be spared from the pumps — the ship floated about tMcnty minutes past ten — the grand eliort Mas made — and she was heaved into deep Mater. It \\ as no small encouragement to find that she did not noM' leak faster than when on the rock. Still, the leak gained on the pumps, and there Mere nine feet ten inches of water in the hold — there was no intermission of labour. Three pumps were kept incessantly going (the fourth M^as out of order), and thus the Mater Mas held at bay. Four and tuoiitv hours the men persevered in this toil, harassed in mind and body, M'ith little hopes of final success. At length their spirits Ix'gan to flag : none of 61() CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. them could work at tlic puiiip above five or six luiiiutes togetlier, after Avliicli they threw themselves, totally exhausted on the deck, though a stream of water three or four inches deep Mas running over it from the pumps. Another party relieved them at their labour, and having wrought their turn, flung themselves in like manner on the streaming deck : the former started up and to the pumps again. JMeanwhile, an accident seemed to prove all their efforts fruitless. The planking which lines a ship's bottom is called the ceiling, between which and the outside planking there is a space of about eighteen inches. From the ceiling only tlie man who had hitherto attended the well had taken the depth of the water, and had given the measure accordingly. But upon his being relieved, the person who took his place gave the depth from the outside planking, which struck a general panic, as if the water had gained eighteen inches in a couple of minutes. But the mistake was soon corrected, and every heart felt as if a great weight was lifted off it, and finding their condition not quite so bad as it appeared a moment ago, the poor sailors cheered up as if there had never been any real danger at all. They tugged at the pumps with renewed energy, and by eight o'clock in the morning, found the water got under consider- ably. They now began to talk confidently of taking the ship into some harbour. The fore-top-mast and fore-yard were replaced, and there being a breeze at sea, the Endeavour was once more under sail by eleven a. m. These hopes might yet have been frustrated, but for a suggestion of Mr. Monkhouse (a midshipman — not the surgeon), Avhich was to fasten to the bottom of the vessel a spare sail, lined with Avool and oakum, and covered with sheep's dung and other filth. This process, which is called fotheritig, succeeded so far in stopping the leaks, that by tlie labour of one pump the ship was kept clear of water. The joy of the crew was proportionate to their recent distress. To commemorate this dreadful trial, the point of land in sight was called Cape Tribulation. On the 14th, a small harbour was discovered, excellently adapted for the purpose of refitting ; but it m as not till the IJth, after considerable difticulty, that the ship was got in. Mr. Cook bestowed the warmest commendation on his crew, and all on board, for their conduct under this peril. Every one ap])eared to have the perfect possession of his mitid, and every one exerted himself to the uttermost with a quiet perseverance, equally distant from the tumul- tuous violence of terror and the glo(miy inactivity of despair. Such is the power of a great man to inspire confidence in the hour of danger, and preserve obedience even when tlie great leveller death threatens to make all equal. CAPTAIN JAMKS COOK. th of March, the Endeavour arrived at the Cape of Good Hoi)e, where she lay till the 14th of April. On the 29th she crossed her first meridian, having circumnavigated the globe from east to west, in consecpieuce of M'hich a day was lost in the reckoning. On the 1st of ]\Iay she touched at St. Helena. The treatment of the slaves on that island excited our voyager's indignation, and was so severely handled by Dr. Ilawkesworth, that Cai)tain Cook, in his own account e painter, Joliii Reinhuld Funster and liis son as naturalists, William Wales and William Bayley as astrono- mers ; all liberally furnished \iitli ajij)aratus. A sum was granted to defray the expense of zoological, l)otanieal, and miiu'ralogieal eolleetious. It is thus that a state should promote science and patroni/e learning. The raatliematical and astronomical instruments were supplied by the Board of Longitude, particularly four time pieces, three by Arnold and one by Kendal on Harrison's princij)le8. Preparations so nuiltifarious necessarily took up a considerable time. Captain Cook received his commission on the 28th of November, J771> but the ship did not sail from Deptford till the 9th April, 177^^ '">r leave the Long Reach till the 10th ]\Iay following. In plying down the river, it was found necessary to put into Sheerness, to make some alterations in her uj)})er works : Lord Sandwich and Sir Hugh Palliscr went down to «ee that the work was done effectually. On the 3d of July, Caj)tain Cook joined the Adventure in Plymouth Sound, where he received a farewell visit from Lord Sandwich, and his instructions, Mdiich comprehended the most enlarged plan of discovery then known in the history of navigation. He was instructed to " circumnavigate the globe in such high southern latitudes, making such traverses, from time to time, into every corner of the Pacific Ocean not before examined, as might finally resolve the much agitated question as to the existence of a southern continent in any part of the southern hemisphere to which access could be had by the efforts of the boldest and most skilful navigators." * On the 13th July, 1772, Cook commenced his second voyage : on the 29th anchored in Funchiale Road : sailed again, August 1st : find- ing water run short, put into Porto Praya, in St. Jago, Cape de Verde Isles, on tlie 10th. After surveying and delineating the harbour of Porto Praya, which was not usually visited by British ships at that time, he proceeded southward. Violent rains descended on the 20th, " not in drops, but in streams," the wind at the same time rough and changeable, so that tliere was hardly a dry rag in the ship. The Connuander had recourse to various means suggested b\ Sir Hugh Palliser to dry and ventilate his vessel, and preserve the crew from the ill effects of their drenching ; which precautions succeeded so well, that there was not one sick ])erson aboard the Resolution. On the 8th of September lie crossed the line in longitude 8" west. On the 11th October observed a partial eclipse of the moon, at (Jh. •Life of Cook, by Kippis, in the Bio?raphia Britannica. It must be ob%'ious how much we are indebted to this excellent compendium of the larger works respecting our discoverer. 4 K (;2{> CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 24iii. 12'" by Kendal's chronometer. Thouer, and sometimes disabling the ships from carrying sails, drove the expedition so far from their destined track, as to leave no immediate hope of reaching Cape Circumcision, a point laid down by former navigators, for which they had been steering. In these tem- pests the princij)al [)art of the live stock perished ; and so intense M'as the transition from heat to cold, that it was jjidged necessary to support the radical heat with an occasional dram, in addition to the regular allowance of spirits. On the 10th December ice-islands began to appear. Such was the haziness of the breather, that Captain Cook did not see one of these immense masses of congelation right ahead of him till he was within a mile of it, though ordinarily their glimmer annoinices them afar off. The Captain judged it to be fifty feet in height, and half a mile in circuit, tiat-topped and perpendicular- sided: others were of far greater altitude and dimension; yet so tempestuous was the ocean, that the breakers " curled their monstrous heads " over the tallest ice-berghs, and drove and jostled their unwieldy bulks with fearful rapidity. Such floating towers, in hazy weather, required wary sailing. December 14th, the vessels were sto])ped by an immense field of low flat ice, to which no end coidd be seen, east, M'est, or south. The frozen plain was diversified with mountains of ice, which some on board mistook for land. Cook himself for a \\liile indulged a hope; but it was soon dispelled by closer observation. Still, as it had generally been held that floating ice is always generated in bays and rivers, the expectation of a continent did not utterly fail, although if it had existed in such a frigid region, it is hard to conjec- ture how it could have been available for commerce or colonization. From the 14th to the 18th, our voyagers were detained among the field ice ; and when they got loose, their oidy alternative was to thrid their way among the ice islands, a course jwrilous enough, yet prefer- able to getting entangled in the fissures of the field. As the land, if any, must have lain l)rliiiid the ice. the object was to liiid in what 628 CAPTAIN JAMKS COOK. direction it was sitiiate ; Captain Cook, liaving run for thirty leagues M-estward alitng the edge of the ice, without meeting any open passage, deternnnod to go thirty or forty leagues to the east^ and then try for the south. If in this route no land nor other impediment occurred, his design was to stretch behind the ice, and thus bring the matter to a decision. It was now Christmas-day, and should have been the height of sum- mer ; yet, though the thermometer was not much below the freezing point, it was colder than any English Christmas. The crew complained bitterly. To protect them against the chill, foggy atmosphere, the Captain had the sleeves of their jackets lengthened with baize, and gave each sailor a cap of the same stuff, lined with canvas. These habiliments proved some defence against the weather; but that old scourge the scurvy began to appear, to check which, fresh wort, pre- pared from the malt ])rovided for that purpose, was given daily with good effect. December 29th. It became evident that the ice-fields adjoined no land. The Captain resolved to run as far west as the meridian assigned to Cape Circumcision. But when, by the nearest calculations, assisted by an observation of the moon, which shewed her face on Friday, 1st January, 1773, for the first time since our voyagers left the Cape of Good Hope, they Mere under the longitude of that Cape, from all appearances Captain Cook concluded that the French navi- gator had mistaken ice for land, and abandoned the search in that quarter. The early part of this year was spent among shoals and hills of ice, which compensated in some measure for the peril and toil which they occasioned by furnishing a constant supply of fresh water. The annals of a sea voyage can seldom be made intelligible, much less interesting, to any but those who are experimentally acquainted with the " art and practical part" of navigation, the various humours and aspects of sea and sky, the hopes and disappointments of the mariner, who strains his eyes for land in vain. A few circumstances, however, may suit the general reader. These southern seas are not utterly deserted by the animal world. Penguins, Albatrosses, and other birds of storm, were often seen perched on the fioating ice, at an unknown distance from land. By Sunday, the 17th January, the expedition reached latitude 67° 15' south, and then were stopped by the ice, which stretched away interminably southward. Seeing no chance of getting round the ice at present. Captain Cook spent some time in looking for the land, of which he had heard at the Cape, as discovered by the French. To multiply the chances of meet- CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 629 ing with it, he si)read the vessels abreast, four miles asunder. On the 1st of February, he upproxiinated to the meridian of Mauritius, Ijeing in south latitude 48=, 30', cast lon8^ T, "here, according to report, tlje French di^x-overy shotdd have lain, but no land ajjpeared. Captain Furneaux indeed, conceived great hopes from a large float of sea or rock weed, accompanied by a detachment of the birds called Divers. A slight difference of opinion arose between the c' impor- tant part in the economy of nature. As soon as the coral insects have brought their work to the level of the sea's surface, their business is at an end : then the marine birds assembling in numbers on the reefs to lay their eggs, make dfj)osits which in a short time turn to fertile soil, ready to receive whatever seeds the Windsor waves may bring, and anon the sUtely palm grove rises self-sown, where a few years before nothing was seen but a warning ripple on the water. Thus, even at this time, new lauds are growing up by the agency of living creatures; the inferior tribes are pre- paring abodes for man, and the same hidden reef on which the forefathers were wrecked, may become the verdant habiUUion of posterity. The numbers of the birds destined to tliis great work correspond with its magni- tude. Captain Flinders, no light tougued exaggerator, speaks thus of what he saw 630 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. February 17- Betwixt midnight and three o'chick in tlie morning, .lights were seen similar to the Aurora Borealis. The officers on Match observed the shifting and changing of these lights for three hours together; they had no certain direction, but appeared in ditFerent points at different times, shooting forth spiral rays, or glowing in circu- lar rings of brilliance, and sometimes pervading the whole atmosphere with a soft illumination. The same appearance recurred on the 20th w'ith increased lustre, first discovering itself in the cast, but afterwards filling all the sky. Where is not natiu-e capable of ])roducing beauty ? Captain Cook notes this as the first Aurora Australis that had come to his knowledge. The phaenomena, therefore, must have differed consi- derablj' from the lights observed in his former voyage, on the passage between New Guinea and Batavia. February 23rd. The ship surrounded with ice, storm and darkness. The wind drove the ice-islands one against another, causing them to split with a noise of thunder. The detached pieces, multiplying around the vessel, increased her danger. Abandoning the design he had once entertained of again crossing the Antarctic Circle, Ca])tain Cook stood for the north. The weather still continued stormy and intensely cold, and the ice-wrecks strewed the main. As they grew familiar they became less terrible, without being less dangerous, and the voyagers not only found profit in the fresh water, which the ice supplied, but amusement, in observing the caverns and grottoes wrought in the chrys- tal by the dashing billows. After several traverses and some delibera- tion, it was finally determined to stand away for New Zealand, where there was a probability of finding the Adventure, and an opportunity of refreshing the crew and recruiting the provision. We have already remarked that a seeming trifle may be a great incident in a sea voyage. Captain Cook has not disdained to record — then why should we omit to mention ? that a sow was safely delivered of a fine litter, one morning, to the general joy of the ship's company ; near Van Diemen's land. " There was a stream (of sooty Petrels) of from fifty to eighty yards in depth, and of three hundred yards or more in breadth ; the birds were not scattered, but flying as compactly as a free movement of their wings seemed to allow, and during a full hour and a half, this stream of Petrels continued to pass with- out interruption, at a rate little inferior to the swiftness of the pigeon. Taking the stream to have been fiftj' yards deep, and tliree hundred in breadth, and that it moved at a rate of thirty miles an hour, and allowing nine cubic yards of space to each bird, the number would amount to one hundred and fifty one million five hundred thousand. The burrows required to lodge this quantity of birds would be 75,7.50,000; and allow- ing a stpiare yard to each burrow, they would cover something more than 18Jf geographic stpiare miles of ground." — Fimdcr's Introduction, p. 170. CAPTAIN .lAMES COOK. 631 but notwithstaiKlinfr tlio utmost care and tenderness used to preserve the little strangers alive, the whole "nine farrow" perished of cold before evening. Yet, so effectual were the preventives administered, and tlie fumigation and rleaidiness enforced alioard the resolution, that after months' of freezing and salt diet, there w as but one man sick of the scurvy when the sliip arrived at New Zealand, Mhich took place on the 2()th of lAIarch. Captain Cook ])ut into Dusky Bay, at the s(tuth west extremity of Tavai Poenamoo, having been at sea one lnuidred and seventeen days, during which he had sailed IJb'GO leagues, without once coming in sight of land. Since the (lei)arture of Cook, in 17G9, New Zealand had been visited by another European expedition, and the cruelties of De Surville had been terribly expiated l)y his less guilty countrymen. We have already mentioned that two French discovery ships had called at tlie Cape of Good Hope a little before Captain Cook put in at that settlement. These were, the Marquis de Castries, under the conunand of M. Duclesmeur, and the Mascarin, commanded by IM. ]Marion du Fresne. Their objects were, in a great measure, similar to those of Captain Cook ; only, in addition to the liopeless quest of the Terra Australis Incognita, they were to look for the rumoured island of gold — an avaricious dream of which English speculation was innocent. They were also to restore to liis native island Aoutourou, an Otaheitan, whom Bougainville had carried with him to Evwope. Poor Aoutourou however caught the small pox, and died at ^Madagascar. IMariou directed his course southward from iMauritius, touched at the isles which now bear the names of Marion and of Crozet, his lieutenant, arrived off New Zealand in Blarch, 1772, and after sailing about for some time, came to an anchor in the Bay of Islands. The natives at first received them not only peaceably, but affectionately. In tlie Mords of Crozet (to whom we owe the narrative of this calamitous voyage), " they treated them with every shew of friendship for thirty-three days, in the intention of eating them on the thirty-fourth." Whether the massacre had really been premeditated all this time, or \\as tlie effect of some sudden change of humoiu-, it is impossible to tell. But certainly the kindness of the New Zealanders had all the effect of the best planned treachery, for it utterly disarmed the French of all caution. Crozet alone thought it necessary to keep an eye on their movements. On the lOlh of June, JMarion and sixteen others went ashore. Their prolonged absence at length occasioned alarm. Night came and they returned not. They had all Ikhmi surprised and butchered. A similar fate attended eleven out of a boat's crew of twelve, who went ashore the next morning. When Crozet went ashore (332 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. to seek for the remains of his countrymen, he found nothing but frag- ments gnawn and scorched. The French had notlung to do but to avenge their companions, and this they did terribly. Whether the inliabitants of Dusky Bay, where Cook anchored, had any knowledge of what had taken place in the Bay of Islands (or as it M-as named by Marion's survivors, the Bay of Treachery), is doubtful. They were, however, shy at first, and averse to comnuuiication ; few in number, and more barbarous than the natives of the northern island. The Captain spent some time in exploring Dusky Bay, which, not- withstanding its gloomy appellation, furnished good anchorage, a line stream of fresh water, fish and fowl in abxindance, and wood without stint. Among the vegetable productions was a tree resembling the American spruce, from the branches and leaves of which our voyagers brewed a verv refreshing liquor. The cove in which the ship lay was christened Pickersgill Harbour, in honour of the Lieutenant by whom it was discovered : another cove in the bay was englished Duck Cove, from the slaughter of fourteen ducks Mhich took place thereat. In Duck Cove, Cook fell in with a party of natives, whose fears he so far pacified, as to engage them in a long but rather unintelligible con- versation. A woman, in particular, displayed a delightful volubility of tongue, talking strenuously, without minding that not one word in a hundred was understood. She also favoured the Captain with a dance, not deficient in agility. What a pleasant creature would this girl have been with a good education ! By degrees, the T'avai Poenamooites became quite familiar, even venturing on board. It was observed that the chieftains seemed to mistake the young and fair ofiicers and seamen for females ; a very easy mistake for a dusky people to make. We need not wonder if the Tiu-ks suspected Lord Byron of being a lady in disguise. To ascertain the nature of their musical perceptions. Captain Cook caused the bagjiipes and fife to play, and the drum to beat. The drum excited much attention ; it was a novelty which the New Zealander might hope to imitate. A sort of drum is common in Otaheite and the neighbouring islands, but the New Zealanders, though they had flutes, liad no instruments of j)ercussion. There are some symbols which have been so universally adopted, that we are almost inclined to imagine a real and natural fitness between the sign and the thing signified. Such is the presentation of a green branch in token of peace. Who does not remember the pacific olive, derived bv many from the olive leaf, which told that the waters of the deluge were abated ? A palm branch, the ancient emblem of victory, in the South Sea, typifies concord ; and when a New Zealand chief. CAPTAIN JAMIiS COUK. 633 approjiclictl tlie vessel with ;i <;reeii iKHigli in liis liiind, and made a circuit, performing certain ceremonies of lustration, he meant to ratify a treaty of frii-iidsliip and alliance. The inhabitants of Dusky Bay were fully aware of the value of iron, and \v(»uld trade for nothing hut spike-nails or hatchets. Captain Cook left his five remaining geese at a retired spot, which he named Goose Cove, in hopes that they would escape notice long enough to nuiltiply and become of permanent benefit to the people, or to such Europeans as might visit the island in future. With the same benevolent intentions he sowed several kinds of garden seeds. The coasts abounded in seals, many of which were taken by the English, to whom their skins furnished rigging, their fat oil, and their Hcsh food. The whole interior of Tavai Pocnamoo a])peared to be a mass of dark craggy mountains, ^vhile the shores were covered \\ith tindnr, nuich of which was valuable for nautical purposes: but fruit trees there were none. J)uring great part of the time that the Resolution lay in Dusky Bay, the rain was heavy and incessant ; but the crew, fortified by vigorous health, and the care of their good commander, suffered no serious detriment. Their main annoyance arose from the multitude of small black sand-Hies. Unquestionably the insect tribes detract more from human comfort than any other portion of animated nature. Well might Beelzebub be the lord of files. Captain Cook left Dusky Bay on the 11th INIay, and sailed north- ward in search of the Adventure. On the 17th, the wind suddenly fell, the sky was obscured by dense clouds, and soon after six water spouts were seen, four of whicli rose and spent themselves between the ship and the land ; the fifth was at a considerable distance on the other side of the vessel ; and the sixth, the progressive motion of which was not in a straight, but in a crooked line, passed within fifty yards of the stem of the Resolution, without doing any injury. The Captain Mas so absorbed in observation of the pha3nomenon, that he neglected to prove by experiment whether the firing of a gun will dissipate these meteors. May 18th. Coming in sight of Queen Charlotte's Sound, our voyagers had the satisfaction of meeting once more with Cai)tain Furneaux. Since the separation in the Indian Ocean, the Adventure had explored the southern shores of Van Diemen's Land, and formed a decided opinion (since proved to be erroneous), that there was no strait between that country and New Ilolhuid, but a very deep bay. The Adventure had arrived in Queen Charlotte's Bay on the 'Jth, and the interval between her arrival and that of the Resolution had afiorded 4 L G34 CAPTAIN JAMFS COOK. siidi strong instances of the anthropopliagous habits of the Now Zoalanders, that Fiirneaux called a particular inlet Cannibal Bay. Coniniodiously anchored in Ship Cove, the two coninianders tarried till the 7th of June, employed in exploring the vicinity, refreshing the crews, and labouring for the beneht of the natives, by planting turnips, carrots, parsnips, and potatoes, mIucIi took to the soil extremely well. Captain Cook set ashore a ram and a ewe, which died almost immedi- ately, probably from eating poisonous herbage. Captain Furneaux left a pair of goats, animals much better adapted to run wild and increase in a new country than sheep, which have been time out of mind the helpless dependents on human care. The intercourse of our voyagers with the natives was of the most friendly description ; but it was remarkable, that of all that appeared, not one recognized, or was recog- nized by, Caj)tain Cook. No doubt the former occupants of the district had either emigrated or been expelled, and their successors were few and scattered. JMauy habitations were deserted and in ruins. On the 4th of June the King's birth-day was kept Avith due solem- nity, and the loyalty of the tars was stimulated with a dou1)le allowance of grog. On the 7th the ships sailed for Otaheite, resolving to con- tinue the examination of the southern seas next season. Both crews were then healthy ; but before they had been two months at sea, alarming sj-iuptoms of scurvy appeared on board the Adventure, while the Resolution had not more than three men on the sick list. This difference may partly be accounted for from the circumstance, that Cook's men, induced by the authority and example of their com- mander, had been diligent in collecting esculent vegetables on the shores of Queen Charlotte's Bay, such as Avild celery and scurvy-grass, which, mixed up with the peas and wheat in their portable soup, coun- teracted the ill effects of dry and salt provisions ; while the Adventure's men either knew not where to look for the herbs, or could not be per- suaded to use them. There is an antipathy, intimately connected with superstition, which makes even well-educated stomachs averse to the adoption of a new diet; and Cook himself had some diHicuIty in making the common sailors, or even the officers, boil the celery. Sec. in their messes. An Englishman, in health, thinks there is something spoofty in providing against contingent sickness. But by perseverance, and experience, these absurd scruples were completely overconie, so that whenever the ships put in the men set about looking for the wholesome plants of their own accord. Captain Cook retraced the tracks of Carteret and Bougainville, with a view to correct or confirm their latitudes and longitudes, some of which, Carteret's in particular. Mere far from accurate. He failed of meeting with CAPTAIN JAMKS COOK. 635 ritcairn's island, afterwards so famous for tlie retreat of the mutineers of the Bounty ; hut p.issed by a number of flat, low, ishmd reefs, wliich Bougainville had not improperly desij^nated " The danf,'erous Arrhipe- lago." Four of them were nani(>d by ("<»iK-, Resohition Island, Doubtful Island, Furneaux Island, and Adventure Island. The smoothness of the sea in those j)arts evinced the neighbourhood of a multitude of these coral banks, in different stages of progress, which made navigation very perilous, particularly in the night ; but neither vessel met with any accident. Early in the morning of the 15th August, the ships came in siglit of Maiteea, or Osnaburgh Island, a discovery of Captain Wallis'. Soon after Cook acquainted Furneaux that it was his intention to put into Oaita- piha bay, near the south cast end of Otaheite, to procure refreshments before he went down to IVIatavai. Tlie a])])roach of the vessels to Ota- heite was attended with considerable danger from the reefs and currents. The Resolution liad a narrow escape, but was brought ofl^ safe by the promptitude of Cook's assistance, Diu-ing the time that the English were in this critical situation, many of the Otaheitans were either on board or paddling around in the canoes, but they testified neither joy, grief, fear, nor surprise, when the ships were knocking against the acute ridges of coral, and went aMay in the evening quite unconcerned. Though most of them knew Cook again, and some made particular enquiries after their old friend Sir Joseph, and other gentlemen of the Endeavour, no one said a word about Tupia, and they were alike indifferent to the fate of Aoutourou, In all this there was nothing extraordinary. Ncitlier Tupia nor Aoutourou might be any thing to any of them ; but Sir Joseph Banks was a great prince, from whom they had received many presents. August 17th. The Resolution and Adventure anchored in Oaita- piha bay. Canoes, bringing cocoa nuts, bananas, yams, plantains, and otlier roots and fruits, thronged around them, and the usual barter for nails and beads commenced. Sundry persons, assuming the dignity of chiefs, received shirts and hatchets, on condition of bringing hogs and poultry, M-hich, however, they never did bring ; and when next day Captain Cook wished to bargain for some of the liogs which were about tlu^ houses, he was informed that they belonged to the Earcc dc hi (King) Waheatua, who had not yet made his appearance, nor indeed any otlier person really exercising the authority of a chief. Travellers, in older countries than Otaheite, have often been deluded by the pre- tensions of soi dixaiit nol)ility, and sometimes, it may be suspected, have reported the tricks and affectations of sharpers as the manners of people of rank. Travellers, especially when they hap])eii to be possessed with G3C CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. a passion for liigli life, always represent the company into which they ha])pcn to bo thrown as the elite of the country they visit, and hence very false notions get abroad of the depravity and vulgarity of foreign- ers. Any body, who will read a torn* in England, written by a French- man, or even by a German, will perceive the source of these errors, too rashly attributed to wilful falsehood and malice. Dr. Clarke* has a wonderful story of a Russian noblemaii stealing a hat, and con- verting it into a jockey cap. And Ca])tain Cook detected a pretended Earec in the act of theft. He ordered the privileged pilferer, with all his followers, out of the ship, and to convince him of the danger of his proceedings, fired two musquets over his head as he was retreating, at 'vhich he was so terrified that he leaped out of his canoe and swam to shore. The Captain sent a boat to seize the canoe ; this being the only method of gaining restitution. The people on shore pelted the boat with stones ; but the Captain, putting off in another boat himself, and causing a great gun to be fired with ball, cleared the beach without bloodshed. In a i&sv hours peace was restored, and the canoes M'ere given up to the first Avho came to claim them. In the evening of this day, some enquiries were made after Tupia. When told that he died a natural death, the enquirers expressed neither suspicion nor concern, and Captain Cook thought they would have taken it very quietly had his death been ascribed to violent means. Since the Endeavour quitted Otaheite, great changes had taken place. The two kingdoms into which that island is divided had been at war. Tootahah, Tubourai Tamaide, and many others who had made acquaintance with the English in their former visit, had fallen in battle. Otoo was now the reigning prince of the larger division, and peace had been renewed. * " A hat had been stolen from our apartments; the servants positively asserted, that some young noblemen, who had been more lavish of their friendship and com- pany than we desired, had gained access to the chambers in our absence and had carried off the hat, with some other moveables of even less value. The fact was inconceivable, and we gave no credit to it. A few days after, being upon an excur- sion to the convent of New Jerusalem, 45 versts north of Moscow, some noblemen, to whom our intention was made known the preceding evening at the Societe de Noblesse, overtook us on horseback. One of the party, mounted on an English racer, and habited like a New-market jockey, rode up to the side of the carriage; but his horse being somewhat unruly, he lost his seat, and a gust of wind blew off his cap. My companion immediately descended, and ran to recover it for its owner; but what was his astonishment to perceive his own name, and the name of his hatter, on the lining. It was no other than the identical hat stolen by one of them from our lodgings, now metamorphosed as a cap, although under its altered shape it might not have been recognised but for the accident here mentioned.'' — Clarkeh Travels in BussUi. CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. G37 The events M-hicli occurred while our voyagers lay in Oaitapiha harbour were of little moment. A i'cw petty frauds, and more attempts at frauds, on the part of the natives, were the most conspicuous. Oa the 2.3rd, Caj)tain Cook had an intervii-w witli Waheatua, the ruler of Tiaraboo, who, at the ])eriod of the last voyage, was a minor, and called Tearee ; but now, having succeeded to his father's authority, he had assumed his father's name. The result of this royal audience was a plentiful supply of pork. On the 24th, the Adventure's peo])le being in a great measure recovered, the ships put to sea, and arrived the next evening in INIatJU vai Bay. Before they came to anchor the decks were crowded with the Captain's old ac([uaintance, and the meeting M-as to all appearance a joyful one. King Otoo and his attendants remained on shore, where a great midtitude were gathered around him. Our Commander visited him on the 2otli at Oparree. He was a tall personable man, but of weak mind and timid nature. When invited to come on board the ship, he confessed that he was afraid of the guns. Returning to the Bay of JMatavai, the Captain found the tents and observatories set on the same ground from which the transit had been observed in 1769. The sick were landed, in niunbcr twenty from the Adventure, and one from the Resolution, and a guard of marines set over them, under the command of Lieutenant Edgecumbe, the same, we presume, who gave name to IMnunt Edgecumbe in New Zealand, and Edgecumbe Bay in New South Wales. August 27th. Otoo was at last prevailed on to visit the Captain. He came attended M'ith a numerous train, and brought with him a hog, fruits, and Otaheitan cloth, for which he received suitable presents. When Cook went ashore he was met by a venerable lady, the mother of the late Tootahah, who caught him by the hand, and exclaimed with a flood of tears, Tootahah T'ufo no Tootcc maltt) Tootahah — anglice, " Tootahah, Cook's friend is dead Tootahah." The Captain was much aifected by this effusion of maternal tenderness, and would have mingled his tears with hers, if the suspicious Otoo had not hastily broken short the interview. Some days after, he obtained permission to see the poor woman again, ^vheu he gave her an axe, and some other articles. With one slight exception, when some liberties taken by the sailors w-ith the Otaheitan females occasioned a scuffle, and a cry of murder, the intercourse between the islanders and their visitors was of the most amicable kind. Lieutenant Pickcrsgill made an excursion up the country, during which he saw the celebrated Olx-rea. Time and mis- fortune had lain heavy uj)on her : her mature comeliness was gone, her 638 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. povrcr and state were passed away: she looked both old and poor. Captain Cook, in his narrative of this voyage, gallantly steps for- ward to vindicate the virtue of the Otahcitan ladies. On the 2nd of September the vessels arrived at Huaheine, and anchored in Owharre harbour. The two commanders M'ere received by the natives with great cordialitj^, and trade was commenced on the most amicable terms. Hogs and poultry, which had been difficult to obtain at Otahcite, were plentiful in Huaheine, an important conside- ration to a crew whose health retpiired fresh provision. Cook, together with Furneaux and Forster, paid a visit to Oree, the chief of the island. Oree was so keenly affected by meeting with his old friend, that he embraced him with tears. We have already remarked that barbarians are generally lachrymose, though capable of sustaining great bodily pain. A stoic of the woods, a man without a tear, is a very unusual character among savages. The aged Oree appears to have been the most amiable personage in the South Sea, and a sincere friend to the English, as he shewed on a very trying occasion. On the 4th, when Captain Cook went to the trading place, he was informed that one of the natives had behaved with great insolence. The man was standing equipped in his war habit, M'ith a club in each hand. Cook, however, soon quelled his spirit, taking the clubs from him, and breaking them before his eyes. Meanwhile, Mr. Sparrman (the Swedish traveller), having unguardedly gone ashore to botanize, was assaulted by two men, who deprived him of every thing but his trowsers, gave him a severe beating with his own hanger, and then made off. Another of the natives brought a piece of cloth to cover him, and conducted him to the trading place. As soon as the people there assembled saw him in this plight, they fled in great consternation. Captain Cook assured them that the innocent should be unmolested, and went to complain of the outrage to Oree, whose grief and indig- nation were inexpressible. He wept aloud, and harangued his subjects earnestly, reproaching them M'ith their ])erfidy and ingratitude. He then took a minute account of the things which Sparrman had been robbed of, and having promised to use his utmost efforts to procure their restitution, desired to go into the Captain's boat. The natives, fearful for the safety of their prince, protested against this confidence : they wept, intreated, and even attempted to pull him out of the boat, but all in vain. Even the remonstrances of Captain Cook were unavail- ing. Oree's sister alone approved of his going. The boat put off in search of the robbers. Restitution was at length made, and peace restored. Cook justly observed, that another chief may never be found, CAPTAIN JAMES CUOK. (i^O who would act like Orce. Before the ships left Iluaheiiie, Cajitaiu Cook took an affectionate leave of his friend, and in ae stinted of fiirinaceous food : but the case of a ship's crew on the barren ocean, reduced to eat salt beef without biscuit, is perhaps as bad as any thing short of actual famine. The benevolent efforts of Cook, in the former part of his voyage, had not been attended with any striking effect. ]\Iost of the animals were destroyed, and the gardens suffered to run wild. Yet he was not weary of well-doing. At the bottom of the West Bay he ordered to be landed, as privately as possible, three sows, one boar, two cocks, and two hens. To the people in the neighbourhood of Ship Cove he gave a boar, two cocks, two hens, and a young sow. The two goats which he left on a prior visit had been destroyed by a bloody-minded native of the name of Goliah ; just as any strange animals which should be discovered loose in England would be. Captain Cook replaced them with two others, the last he had remaining ; but, as if it were forbidden by destiny that New Zealand should be a land of goats, the buck went mad, and drowned himself in the sea. Our Commander was under the necessity of punishing several of liis men very severelv for the robbery of a New Zealand hut, in which wore deposited the gifts received by some chiefs from the English. The New Zealanders, prone as they were to pilfer, had a sufficient horror of theft when they were themselves the sufferers by it; and Cook would never allow retaliation to be a j)lea for violating their property. The camiibalism of the New Zealanders was particularly offensive to Oedidee, a youth of Bolabola. whom Cook had brought from Ulietea as an interpreter. On beholding the gnawn and mangled remains of human carcases, he was struck motionless with horror; and when roused at last from his stupefaction, he burst into tears, wept and exclaimed by turns, telling the New Zealanders that they were vile men, and that he would be their friend no longer. Yet Oedidee had probably beheld human sacrifices, if not without ])ain, without a doubt of their proj)ri('ty. INIay not all cannibalism have grown out of human sacrifice, and have Ijoen originally an idolatrous rite, though it after- wards became a gluttonous gratification ? The change of diet, good water, and plenty of vegetables, preserved and restored the health of the crew, so that there was not now a sick or scorbutic j)ers(»n on board. Though the Kesolution had now to pursue her voyage alone, neither the commander nor the sailors were 4 m 042 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. disheartened. Summer was now smiling on November, the month so celebrated in the nortliern hemisphere for fog and hypochondria. The prosperous gales adled on our navigators to launch once more in search of the Terra incognita. Captain Cook wrote a memorandum, containing such information as might be serviceable to Furneaux if he put into the Soiuid, and deposited it in a bottle, which he hid luider a tree in the garden, in such a manner as to insure its being found by the Adven- ture, or any other European vessel that miglit chance to arrive. This done, he weighed anchor on the 26th of November, and steered south, inclining to the east. A few days after, according to their reckoning, they crossed the antipodes of London. The first ice island appeared on the 12th of December. The floating ice now became very troublesome, notwithstanding which, the ship arrived without injury in latitixde 69° 3V south, the highest she had yet reached. From thence she declined to tlie north east. Christmas Day found the navigators in the midst of hundreds of ice shoals. This was the second Christmas they had passed amid the antarctic cold ; but the weather was much clearer and lighter than in the former year, a circumstance of hope and safety. On the Dth of January, 17/4, the ship was near the 50th degree of south latitude ; but two sick persons on board. But there Mere no signs of land. Captain Cook made a tack to the south, and attained the 71st degree on the 30th of January. To have gone foi'ward would have been to encounter certain peril, and probable destruction, without an adequate chance of benefit ; for it was clear, that if any land lay in that quarter, it must be covered with everlasting ice, and destitute of human, animal, or vegetable life. Cook would fain have proved how far it was possible to go ; but his prudence overmastered his ambition, and he steered northward. It was now sufficiently demonstrated that no southern continent was accessible in the Pacific. But there was still room for considerable islands in the unexplored tracks of that ocean, and Cook never left a Mork half done. He arranged his plans of discovery as follows. — First, to seek for the land said to have been seen in the 17th century by Juan Fernandez, about latitude 38°. This failing, to direct his course for Davis's Land, or Easter Island, the exact situation of which was unde- termined, though no doubt was entertained of its existence. Then, getting within the tropic, to make for Otaheite, Mhere it was neces- sary for him to look for the Adventure. He purposed likewise to run as far Mcst as the Tierra Austral del Espiritu santo of Quiros, marked in old maps, as the true Terra Australis. Thence to steer south and east between the latitudes of 50 and 60, and if possible to reach the Cape of Good Hope by the ensuing November, when he should CAPTAIN JAMi:s COOK, fi-13 have the suininer before him to explore the Southern Athintic. When this extensive phin was c(minmnicjited to the oHicers and company of the Resolution, they testified the utmost alacrity to go through with its execution, though it was to detain them from their native land another year. Cook had the talent of inspiring all whom he com- manded with his own spirit of discovery. In pursuing the northward route, it soon becJime evident, that the rumoured discovery of Juan Fernandez could be nothing but a very small island. The further search after it was relin(pn*shed, but Easter Island was still an object (»f pursuit. About this time Caj)tain Cook was confined to his hammock by a severe attack of bilious colic. The management of the ship devolved on Mr. Cooper, the second in com- mand, who executed his important charge much to his own credit, and his superior's satisfaction. The Captain's recovery was expedited by the skill and attention of Mr. Patten the surgeon ; but when he became convalescent, his stomach re([uired fresh meat, and none was to be had, for he had parted with all the li\e-stock at New Zealand. A favourite dog of IMr. Forster's fell a sacrifice to his returning appetite ; and how- ever European tastes may be prejudiced against such viands, our com- mander found it both wholesome and palatable. It appears from the work of Hippocrates on diet that dogs' flesh was occasionally eaten in Greece. On the 11th of JMarch, our voyagers came in sight of Easter Island, or Davis's Land, which proved a barren uninteresting spot, remarkable for little except some gigantic statues. The natives were found to be as good iiatiu'ed and as dishonest as any of their neighbours. The Resolution next steered for the JMarquesas. The Captain, on tlie passage, had a sliglit return of his disorder, but it soon passed away. On the ()th and 'J\h of April four islands came in view, Avhich were known to be those discovered by Quiros in 1595, and by him named Christina, INIagdalena, Dominico, and St. Pedro. Another of the same fraternity, Mhicli Cook was the first European t(» visit, was named Hood's Isle, after the young man who caught the first sight of it from the mast-head. The ship came to anchor in IMadre de Dios, or Reso- lution Bay, in St. Christina. The natives were such audacious tliieves, that it Mas found necessary to terrify them by discharges of muscpietrv; and contrary to the express injunction of Cook, one man, who had attempted to steal an iron stanchion from the gangway, was shot dead. This catastrophe neither put a stop to traflic, nor prevented depreda- tion : yams, plantains, bread-fruit, cocoa-nuts, fowls, and pigs, were procured for awhile on reasonable terms, till the market was ruined by the imprudence of a youth, who gave for a j)ig a ([uantity of red feathers which he had brought from Tongatabot). It was impossible 0'44 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. to continue trading at such extravagant rates ; so tlie Captain, having taken in Mood and Mater, and ascertained the precise situation of the ^Marquesas, sailed away rather sooner than he intended. The inhabit- ants of these isles are said to be the handsomest in the South Sea ; but they are evidently of the common race. Oedidee conversed with them without difficulty. In his May to Otaheite, Cook fell in with some small low islets, connected by coral reefs. One of them, on which Lieutenant Cooper went ashore, was called Tiookea, inhabited by a stout athletic people, of a very dark hue and fierce disposition, who subsist chiefly by fishing, and as the sign of their profession, have the figure of a fish tatooed on their bodies. This island had previously been visited by Captain Byron. Having passed by St. George's Islands — another discovery of Byron — and Palliser's Isles, a group which had escaped the notice of former navigators, the Resolution proceeded through a sea dangerously strewed with coral reefs, in various stages of their progress, to Otaheite, where they arrived on the 22d of April, and anchored in IMatavia Bay, principally for the purpose of enabling Mr. Wales to ascertain the error of the chronometers by the known longitude ; but finding provi- sions abundant, and the people M'ell-disposed, the Captain was induced to protract his stay, in order to make some necessary repairs in the ship, which had unavoidably sufifered in the high latitudes. The stock in trade was now very low, so that, had it not been for the red parrots' feathers, which pleased the Otaheitans mightily, it might have been difficult to carry on commerce. A friendly and dig- nified interchange of royal visits took place between Captain Cook and the Otaheitan potentates, who entertained their visitors with the exhi- bition of a grand naval review. The marine force of the island must have been very formidable, since no less than one hundred and sixty large double canoes, well equipped, manned, and armed, and attended by one hundred and seventy small craft, intended for transports and victuallers, all gay with flags and streamers, mana;uvred in sight of the English, who may have been reminded, both by contrast and resem- blance, of the mighty armaments in their own ports. The fighting canoes were managed altogether by })addles ; the smaller vessels had a mast and sail, with a sort of house or canopy in the middle. It was conjectured that there might be 7760 men in the whole fleet. But with all this formidable force, Otoo was obliged to succumb to the commander of a single English vessel, who took it upon him to execute justice on one of King Otoo's suly'ects, in consequence of an attempted theft of a water cask. The thief was caught in the act, sent on board, and put in irons. Otoo demanded or requested his CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 645 release, but Cook declared, tliat as he constantly respected tlie property of the Otalu'ituns, and punished stealing in liis (iwn people, it -.vas not just that the depredations of the islanders should he encouraged by inipunitv. He knew that Otoo would not puni>li the culprit, so he determined to do it himself, which he justified on the jjrinciple, that it was indispensable, for the preservation of the Otaheitiins themselves, that the system of robbery should be checked by a severe example, as otlierM'ise it would be impossible to protect them from being shot to death. The Captain resisted the intreaties even of the King's sister, anil only j»ledged himself that the man's life sluudd be spared. Otoo discontinued his opposition. The criminal was brought to shore under a guard, and tied to a post. The crowd were warned to keep their distivnce, and the prisoner received two dozen of lashes in the presence of all. Notwithstiuiding the timidity imputed to the Otaheitans in general, the man sustained his punishment with great firmness: — per- haps it was not dealt with as much sincerity as if an English offender had been the subject. It is certainly a (iucsti()nal)le point how far such an exertion of authority by an alien is reconcilable with the European law of nations ; but. Where Law can do no right, Let it lawful be, that Law bar no wrong. The Otiheitan chieftains were not altogether insensible to the national disgrace. Towtah harangued the people on the necessity of avoiding such punishments in future, by reforming their manners. Neither the speech nor the cat-o'-nine-tails produced any lasting amendment. A night or two after the discipline, the sentry allowed his musquet to be stolen. The fear of Cook's resentment made all the neighbourhood quit their habitations; but it was not without great difHculty, and repeated application, tliat the musquet was restored. When once the acquisitive and secretive propensities of man have gained by indulgence the strength of instinct, neither fear nor shame will make the pilferer honest, though they may make him miserable. Nor will the habit be corrected by change of circumstance, alteration of laws, or improvement of condition. There nuist be a change of nature — a new creature. The bread fruits of Otaheite were very useful as a succedaneiun for biscuit, which it was highly necessary to economize. Provisions of all kinds were unconuuonly plentifid, and the people had overcome their reserve in parting with their stores. The Otaheitans, unlike the New Zealanders, had a correct appreciation of the value of domestic animals. Two goats left by Captain Furneaux in the former part of the voy;ige had become great favourites, and were in a fair way to multiply. The people of the Society Islands had a passion for cats, a (piadruped 646 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. quite new to them ; and Cajitain Cook distributed more tlian twenty at Otalieite alone. Sheep did not take kindly to the climate or herbage, but died almost as soon as tliey were set ashore. It M'ill be remembered, that during our commander's first voyage, he was joined by an Irish sailor, who was accused of deserting from the Dutch service. This man now belonged to the Resolution, and was one of the gunner's mates. Being a poor homeless creature, it is not wonderful that lie should think of adopting Otaheite for his country. He was detected in the act of swimming to shore. The example of desertion could not be tolerated ; but liad he asked the commandd-'s consent to his remaining, it probably M'ould not have been refused. Cook next paid a visit to his friend Oree, at Huaheine. The old chief was as friendly as ever ; but the natives exhibited such a dispo- sition to plunder, that it was thought expedient to overawe them with a solemn progress through the island, at the head of forty-eight men. The temerity of these islanders Avas partly ascribed to certain indifferent shots, who, in their shooting parties, had let the ignorant learn that fire-arms are not fatal in every hand. During their abode in Hua- heine, the English gentlemen were spectators of a dramatic piece, in which their own characters were pretty freely represented. The sub- ject of this entertainment was the adventures of an Otaheitan girl, M'ho was supposed to have left her parents to follow the strangers. Now there was present a female who was partly in this predicament, having taken a passage in the ship down toUlitea. She was almost as violently affected by the play as the King in Hamlet, particularly at the conclu- sion, which represented her reception on returning to her friends. So powerfid is Huahenian dramatic satire. Perhaps some persons may think the stage of Huaheine, from this sample, more moral than that of Drury Lane or of Covent Garden, where the comedy generally con- cludes with the triximph of the runaway lovers. When Captain Cook bade adieu to Huaheine, as he supposed for the last time, and told Oree that they should meet no more, the venerable chieftain wept bitterly, and said, " Let your sons come, and we will treat them well." Equally affecting was the parting with Oreo, the chief of Ulietea, where the v^essel next touched. When Oreo could not obtain of Cook a promise to return, he requested above all things to know the name of his burial place. Cook answered without hesitation Stepney, the place of his residence in London : but when the same question was put to Forster, he replied, that it was impossible a man who used the sea should know where he was to be buried. Those who have imagined a prophetic im])ort in the casual words of men, might almost fancy a CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 647 reproof and a prediction in Forster's answer, sadly fnl filled in Cook's untimely fate and distant grave. As Cook had then no expectation of ever revisiting the Society Islands, and knew nut when amitlier British ship might lind its way thither, Oedidee could not make up his mind to accompany his new friends further. Yet he was very loath to part. When the ship sailed away, " he burst into tears, and then sunk back into his cau()e." He was a youth of amiable dispositicnis, but almost wholly ignorant, even of the customs, manners, and religion of his own countrymen, June 5th, Our voyagers left Ulietea ne.xt day ; saw Howe Island, a mere reef. On the IGth discovered Palmerston Island: both these were uninhabited. On the 2()th land appeared, which manifestly was an abode of man ; but of men, as it proved, so ferocious and intractable, that their country received the title of Savage Island, All endeavours to bring them to parley failed: they rushed on with the fury of bulls, hurling their darts, undismayed by the sight or report of nnis^uetry. One javelin passed close over Cook's shoulder : at the instant, his impulse Avas naturally to shoot, but his piece missed fire, which he afterwai-ds considered as a providential escape from blood-guiltiness. Quitting this inhospitable shore in haste, the Resolution steered for tlie south west, and after passing several small islands, arrived on the 2Gth at Anamocka, the Rotterdam of Tasman, As soon as the vessel Mas at anchor, the natives bi-t)Ught down their provisions, consisting chiefly of yams and shaddocks, which they were ready to barter for triHes. As usual, they gave a great deal of tj-ouble by their thievish propensity, taking things wdiich could not be spared. To procure restitution, it was resolved to make a formal invasion. All the marines were sent ashore, and drawn up, full armed, and in military array. Some resistance was offered, and one of the islanders was wounded with small shot. Peace being restored, the Captain endeavoured to make amends to the sufferer by a present, and had his wounds dressed by the surgeon. Anamocka, or Rotterdam, is of a triangular shape, each side extend- ing between three and four miles There is nothing very peculiar in its productions or population, which closely resemble those of Tongata- boo ; but the land is less fertile, and the cultivation far more imperfect. Like others in the same grou}), it is surrounded by innumerable small islands, which might not unajitly be compared to suckers around a parent tree. Cook leai-ned the names of about twenty, lying between north-west and north-east, two of which are of remarkable height, and one was suj)[)osed to be a volcano. Pursuing their course to the west, our navigators passed and named 048 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. Turtle Island. On the ICth of July, high land was seen bearina; south M est, which was rightly concluded to be that which Quiros had mis- taken for a southern continent, and named Tierra Australis del Espiritii Santo, and M-hich Bougainville, discovering the supposed continent to be no more than a cluster of isles, new named the Great Cyclades. The tirst of this group which the Captain visited was IMallicollo. As usual, he innted the natives to a friendly commerce ; Imt the pugnacity of an individual, who was repelled as he was stepping into the boat, had nearly lieen attended with fatal consequences. He was armed with a bow, which he offered to draw first against the boat keeper, and when his countrymen stopped him, aimed a shaft at Captain Cook. Two discharges of small shot were necessary to make him retreat ; and when he dropped his bow and paddled off, arrows began to shower from another quarter, but a great gun fired with ball put the archers to rout without bloodshed. An hour^ or two after, the English landed from the boats in the face of four or five hundred people assembled on the shore, all armed with bows, but they offered no opposition. Cook and a chieftain mutually exchanged palm branches, in ratification of peace. Permission to cut wood was asked and granted in dumb show, for the language of IMallicollo is not apparently connected with the dialects of Otahcite, New Zealand, or the Friendly Islands. All went on quietly thenceforth, but very little business could be transacted, because the people of Mallicollo set no value on any thing which the strangers had to otter. Whatever bargains they did make they scrupulously fulfilled. Even when the Resolution was vuider way, and they might easily, by dropping astern in their canoes, have evaded their engagements, they pressed about the ship to deliver the articles that had been purchased. One man followed the vessel a good way, and did not come up with her till the thing he had been paid for was forgotten ; and though several of the crew offered to purchase it, he insisted on giving it to the right owner. Only one attempt at theft was made, and then restitution was obtained without trouble. This honest people are the ugliest beings that our navigators had met with ; black, stunted, woolly-headed, flat- faced, and monkey-visaged. They h.ad never seen a dog, and were highly delighted with a male and female of that species which Cook left on the island. Setting sail on the 23d of July, our navigators passed by several small islands, to which names were given, either as memorials of friendship, or compliments to greatness ; thus. Shepherd's Isles were called after the Plumian Professor of Astronomy at Cam- l)ridge, a learned intimate of the Ca})tain's. Montagu, Ilinchinbrook, and Sandwich isles, record the parties in power at the period of their discovery. A tall obelisk of rock, the inaccessible haunt of numei-ous CAPTAIN JAMKS COOK. G49 sea-birds, obtained the desi^nutidii of tliu Muimvienl. All these spots of earth were miiidiabited, though the appearance of Sandwich Island promised fertility. The next yhxcc at which the ships called was Erntniaiiifo, where they hoped to olitain supplies. The inhabitants crowded to the beach with the most friendly indications — intendini^ to tempt (»ur voyagers ashore and then butcher them. This design, liowever, was detected by the vigilance of Cook, and a skirmish ensued, in \\ hich several of the treacherous barl)arians fell, and pretended to be dead, but when they tliought themselves unobserved, scrambled away. The scene of this transaction Mas properly designated Traitor's Head. Tanna was the next stage. The inhabitants here at first shewed open hostility, but Cook, by the report of the great guns, contrived to terrify, without injuring them, and they became civil enough. They were suspected of being cannibals, because they asked whether the English were so — rather a dubious ground : at any rate, they cannot plead necessity for eating their species, since Tanna is a fertile spot, abounding in bread-fruits, cocoa-nuts, hogs, and poultry. Tlie lan- guage of the aborigines was peculiar ; at least I\Ir. Forster, a specu- lative linguist, pronounced it to be different from all that had been heard before : but there were in the island many settlers from Erro- nan, who had introduced a dialect of the jMalay, or common Polynesian tongue. The people of Taima are of middle stature, slender and nimble, averse to labour, but very expert in the use of their weapons ; in so much, that they convinced the astronomer Wales of Homer's authenticity : — " I must confess," says he, " I have often been led to think the feats which Homer represents his heroes as performing with their spears, a little too much of the marvellous to be admitted into an heroic poem : I mean when confined within the strait stays of Aristotle. Nay, even so great an advocate for him as ]\Ir. Pope admits them to be surprizing. But since I have seen what these people can do with their wooden spears, and them badly pointed, and not of a liard nature, I have not the least excejjtion to any one passage in that great poet on that account. But if I see fewer exceptions, I can find infinitely more beauties in him, as he has, I think, scarcely an action, circumstance, or description of any kind whatever relating to a spear, which I have not seen and recognized among these people ; as their whirling motion and whistling noise when they fiy ; their quivering motion as they stick in the ground when they fall ; their meditating their aim when they are going to throw ; and their shaking them in their hand as they go." Tanna is a volcanic formation, and a volciuio was in considerable activity when Cook was there in 177-1, midiing a dreadful noise, and 4n (J50 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. sending forth sometimes smoke, sometimes flame, and sometimes great sloiies. Between the explosions there woiihl elapse an interval of two or three minutes. At the foot of this volcano were several hot springs, and in its sides were fissures, whence issued sulphurous and mephitic vapour. Cook sent out an exploring party to examine this natural curiosity completely; b\it they met with so many obstacles, partly arising from the suspicions of the natives, for which Cook generously and philosophically apologizes, that they returned without accomplish- ing their purpose. They ascertained, hoAvever, that the crater is not on the ridge, but on the side yf the mountain, and that the explosions are most violent after long continued rains. The necessary business of taking in Mood and water, neither of which liad Ijeen procured at Erromango, detained our voyagers for some time at Tanna. The natives became quite reconciled to their visitors, and allowed them to wander about and shoot in the woods without the slightest molestation. Cook, with all his vigilance, could not always prevent his people from abusing the power which fire-arms bestow. On one occasion, when a few little naked boys had pelted with pebbles the men employed in cutting wood, the petty officers on duty fired, and though the Captain severely reprimanded them for their unfeeling hastiness, another sentry killed a native with even less provocation, in the commander's sight. The Resolution sailed from Tanna on the 1st of September: on the 4th came in sight of an Island, the native appellation of vdiich our navigators could never learn. Captain Cook called it New Caledonia. They remained here for some time, carrying on a very amicable com- merce with the natives, and particularly with the chief Teabooma, to whom the Captain presented a dog and bitch, and a young boar and sow. The first were received with ecstacy, but when the pigs were sent, the chief was from home, and his attendants accepted them with a good deal of ceremonious hesitation. The New Caledonians Cook conjectured to be a mingled race, between the people of Tanna and of the Friendly Isles, or of New Zealand. Forster could trace no analogy in their language to that of any other tribe; but the geneologies and affinities of unknown and unwritten languages are not to be determined in a fortnight. The New Caledonians are stout, active, and well made, their hair black and curly, not woolly, their beards thick and crisp: like the people of Erromango, they besmear their bodies with divers coloured pigments. Their only habiliment is a wra])per of bark or platted leaves. Their huts are something like bec-liives, composed of sticks wattled with reeds, thatched and carpetted with dry grass. With CAPTAIN JAMKS COOK. 6ol regard to tlic arts and cunveiiiences of life, they seem to hold a middle place between the Australian savages and tlie almost civilized Ota- lieitans ; but in the development of the moral sense they are perhaps farther advanced than either. Captain Cook pays a high eoniplinieut to the chastity of the New Caledonian females. On the 13th of Sei>tend)cr the Resolution sailed with a design to examine the coast of New Caledonia, but such Mere the ymrUs of the circuit, that the commander felt it his duty, considering the state of the vessel, and the long voyage yet before him, to leave the survey in some measure incomplete. Yet he ascertained that New Caledonia was, next to New Zealand, the largest coinitry in the South Pacific, and that it furnishes excellent timber of the spruce i)ine sjxicies, well adapted for masts and spars. This discovery was valuable, for except New Zealand, he had not found an island in the South Sea where a ship could supply herself with a mast or yard, let her necessity be what it might. The first opj)ortunity of examining these serviceable trees, the distant appearance of which had given rise to sundry conjec- tures, vvas on a small islet to the south-east, which received the appro- priate designation of Isle of Pines. Another little plot of earth, pre- senting many new species of plants, was entitled Botany Isle, which is rather too hard upon Botany Bay. Captain Cook, like most English- men, betrayed a poverty in the invention of names. Leaving the coast of New Caledonia, the Captain steered south-east, and discovered Norfolk Island ; so named in honour of the noble family of Howard. It was then, and we believe is novv, uninhabited, though a British colony for some years were settled or imprisoned there. It is lofty ground, abundant in fine forest trees, especially the Auracaria excelsa, or Norfolk pine. The New Zealand flax grows there luxuri- antly, and the British settlers, in 1793, sent for two New Zealanders to instruct them in the method of spinning and weaving it. Unfortu- nately, flax-dressing in New Zealand is exclusively a female employ- ment : the two persons carried to Norfolk Isle were both males ; the one a warrior and the other a priest — and could give as little inform- ation on the clothing manufacture of their country, as coidd be expected from the military or clergy of Europe on the arcana of lady-like accom- plishment. From Norfolk Isle the Resolution made for New Zealand, and anchored in Ship Cove, Queen Charlotte's Soinid, on the 18th of Octo- ber. Little of moment occxu-red during this fourth visit of our com- mander to Poenamoo. At his first arrival he found the country deserted, and the gardens which he had planted run wild. On looking for the bottle which he had hidden when he last took leave, he found 652 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. a inemoraiulum, signifying that Fiinieaux had found it, hut no information concerning tlie subsequent fate of the Adventure. No inhabitants appeared till the 24th, and then they were shy and timid at first, but when they found that it was Cook who had arrived, " joy took the place of fear, those who had taken refuge in the woods hurried forth, leaping and shouting for ecstacy, and embracing their old acquaintances with tears of delight." There was more in their former terrors and sudden joy than Cook at that time understood. He could not but be pleased with what appeared a genuine effusion of gratitude from an overflowing heart. Yet the mysterious answers or determined ignorance of the New Zealanders whenever the Adventure was alluded to, might have awakened the suspicions of a less cautious man. The truth, which he never knew till his return to England, was this — Furneaux, who had parted company with our subject during the storms of October, 1773, arrived in Ship Cove in the beginning of December, and found the bottle and directions which his consort had left. He ^vaited some time to refit, lay in water, &c., and was ready to sail on the 17th. Intending to Meigh anchor the next morning, he sent off one of the midshipmen with a boat's crew to gather a few wild greens, the use of which his men had learned duly to appreciate. Evening came, and the boat did not return according to orders, at which Captain Furneaux was probably irate ; but when morning came, and still no boat, he became alarmed, and hoisting out the launch, sent Mr. (afterwards Admiral) Burney, with another boat's crew and ten marines, in search of the missing. The fact soon appeared. The party had been surprized, massacred, and eaten. The Adventure quitted New Zealand without imitating the fearful retaliation inflicted by the French on the murderers of Marion ; but when an European ship was seen in the Cove, the first impression of the natives would naturally be, that it was come to avenge the massacre. But when they found it was not Furneaux, but Cook, whom they rightly supposed to know nothing of what had taken place, they felt his presence like a great deliverance, and expressed their joy with their usual vehemence. But it M'as a joy which most people have felt in some degree at some time or other. Who has not grasped with sincere delight the hand of a lounger to whom he was quite indiiTerent, simply because the rap at the door had raised the apprehension of some feared or hated visitation ; a dun, a borrower, tlie bearer of a challenge, or a good adviser ? Whatever intercourse took place between Cook and the natives was answerable to this fair beginning. A chief called Pedero invested the British commander with the staff of honour, the JMarshal's baton of New Zealand, and Cook dressed Pedero in an old suit of clotheg, in CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 653 which he felt his conseciiieiice uoiulerfully ciihirged. The Ciptaiii, unwearied in his endeavours to stock the ishujd with aniniah, which might he useful alike to the native j)oi)u]ation, and to such Europeans as niij^ht visit or settle in this remote region, sent ashore another hoar and sow. Swine arc so prolific, and so easily acconunodate themselves to circumstances, that a single pair, escaping for a few years in a thinly peopled country, would nniltiply heyond the facilities of extirpation. Nothing was seen of the poultry left on former occasions except an egg, ^\l\'n•\\ appeared to be new laid. The ship Iteing now repaired, the crew refreshed, and the astrono- mical observations satisfactorily performed. Captain Cook sailed from New Zealand on tlie 10th of November, to resiune his search for the southern continent. As it is well known that the only result of this arduous, painful, protracted, but worthy and scientific })ursuit was, tliat there is no habitable continent to be discovered ; and as freezing narratives are rather dull till they reach the point of horror, we shall not accompany our navigator any longer in his sailings to and fro among the ice. We nuist, however, omit bis spending his Christmas in Christmas Sound, on the vvest coast of Tierra del Fuego. Christmas, in an English imagination, is inseparably associated with cold weather and good cheer. In Tierra del Fuego it can only support the former part of its character. A more desolate place than Christmas Sound cannot be. Yet doubtless the wanderers drank " a health tf> them that's far away," as many a British fire-side drank to them. Their harbour, tlreary as it was, furnished geese for their Christmas dinner, and fuel to roast it. Nor are the rocks of Tierra del Fuego without their beauty. They furnished occupation for the botanists : plants, elegant or curious in conformation, rich in hue, and fragrant of odour (as mountain plants generally are) pee})cd out of the crannies. But the human creatures were the same ugly, half-starved, lielploss generation that dwindled beside the Bay of Success. Bougainville called them Pecharas, and Cook pronounced them the most wretched beings he had ever beheld. New Year's Day, 177'^? ^'as spent in New Year's harl)our, a j)ort in Staten Land. Some small islands in its vicinity were named Kew Year's Isles. Here our voyagers observed a harmony between the animal tribes, not unworthy of brief notice. The sea coast is occupied by the sea lions ; the white bears possess the shore ; tlie sliags are posted on the highest cliffs ; the penguins fix their (piarters where there is the most easy communication with the sea ; other birds retire to remoter places; Imt all occasionally n)ingle together, like poultry in a farm yard. Eagles and vultures are seen j>erched on (Ik- same crag 654 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK, with sliags, and the weaker shew no fear of the stronger. The island is thronged Mitli life, and the living prey upon the dead. Proceeding from Staten Land, Captain Cook discovered Willis's Island, Bird's Isle, and South Georgia, — the last a land of 70 degrees compass, of which, worthless as it was, he took possession in the King's name. At first our navigators hailed this icy waste, where no vegeta- tion existed but a coarse tufted grass. Mild burnet, and the moss on the rocks ; where not a tree Mas to be seen, nor a shrub big enough to make a tooth-pick ; and M'here no animal food could be obtained but the flesh of seals and penguins, to M'hich bullock's liver is an Apician delicacy, — as the long sought continent of golden dreams, A quaint honour to the warm-hearted old King, to affix his name to the planet most remote from the sun, and to the spot of earth least in favour with the same genial luminary. Leaving South Georgia (after ascertaining it to be an island by sail- ing round it in a fog), our voyagers proceeded on their dreary adven- tures, and on the 31st of January fell in with an elevated coast, the most southern land that had yet been discoverd, and thence named Southern Thrde, no comfortable place to l)e wrecked on, of M^hich the Resolution M-as in no small danger, from the great western swell setting in right for the shore. Cape Bristol, Cape Montagu, Saunder's Isle, Candlemas Isles, and Sandwich's Land, M^ere discovered by the 6th of February, The opinion of Cook was now decided, that there is a tract of land near the pole, which is the source of the ice spread over the Southern Ocean, and that it extended farthest north where the ice appeared farthest north ; that is, towards the Atlantic or Indian Ocean. But such land must lie chiefly M'ithin the antarctic circle, and be for ever inaccessible. Cook, no boaster, fearlessly asserted that no man could ventiu-e further south, in seas beset with ice and fog, than he had done, M'ithout more than a risk of destruction. He therefore M'isely turned his thoughts to England, and steered northward. Having formed this determination, he demanded of the officers and petty offi- cers, in pursuance of his instructions, the log books and journals they had ke])t, and enjoined them never to divulge where or how far they had been, until authorized by the Lords of the Admiralty. If he expected this order to be obeyed, and that, too, when his commissioned authority should cease, he shewed less than his usual knowledge of human nature. In the passage to the Cape of Good Hope, he met first a Dutch, and then a British East-Indiaman ; the former commanded by Captain Bosch, and the latter by Captain Broadly, Bosch offered our navi- gators sugar, arrack, and whatever else he had to spare, and Broadly gave them tea, fresh provisions, and news, which, though none of the CAPTAIN JAMF.S COOK. (u>5 newest (for lie was rcturuin<^ from China), must still have l)een new to them. From these vessels Cook w:us informed of what had Ijefallen the Adventure after the separation. On the 22d of March he anchond in Table Bay. Durinj^ the time that elapsed from his k-avinj^ the Cai)e of Good Hope to his return to it again, he had sailed no less than 20,(X)0 leagues, nearly three times the equat(jrial circumference of the globe. While at the Cape he met with Crozet, whom he describes as a man of abilities, possessed of the true spirit of discovery. The remainder of the homeward voyage was over familiar ground, iuid needs no descri])tion. Captain Cook left the Cape on the 27th of April, reached St. Helena on tlie loth of May, Fernando Norhoiiha on the 9th of June, Fayal in the Azores on the 14th of July, Spithead on the 30th, when he landed at Portsmouth, having been absent from Britain three years and eighteen days, during which, amid all vicissi- tudes and hardships, he lost but four men. And thus ended Cook's second voyage. Its geographical results, though important, were chiefly negative, and therefore not of that kind on which imagination dwells delighted. He had destroyed a vision of fancy, and instead of aug- menting the map with new Indies, had reduced islands to fog banks and ice shoals, and continents to inconsiderable islets and reefs of coral. He had discovered, in short, that a fifth continent was as little to be hoped for as a fifth sense. The voyage had doubtless been beneficial to navigation, to nautical astronomy, to botany, and to science in general ; it had enlarged the natural history of man a little ; but its happiest and fairest achievement was to shew how life and health may be pre- served for years on the ocean, and how barbarians may be awed without cruelty, and conciliated without delusion. It must have been no small satisfaction to Cook, that no change had taken place in the Admiralty Department during his absence: that the same Lords who employed his services were to dispense his reward. Lord Sandwich lost no time in recommending him to the Sovereign, and his remuneration was not delayed. On the 9th of August he was made a Post Captain, and three days after a Caj)tain in Greenwich Hospital, a situation of dignified repose, vhich he hail fairly e;irned, and in which he might honourably have sat down for the remainder of his days. His society was sought alike by the wealthy and the learned. About the close of 177«'> he was proposed a candidate for admission into the Royal Society, elected on the 29th of February, 177<>, and admitted on the 7tl» f*f IMarch, on w liich occasion was read a paper, addressed by Cajjtain Cook to Sir John Pringle, President of the Royal Society, and author of a \\ell known work on the diseases of the army, containing " An account of the method he had taken to preserve the C)o() CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. health of the crew of his IMajosty's sliip the Resohition, (hiring her voyage round the Morld/' to wliich tlie President and Council of the Society decreed the Copley gold medal, with a handsome panegyric from the President, which Cook was not present to hear; nor did he ever receive the medal into his own hands, for before the day appointed for delivering it, he had set sail on his last expedition. It was given to IMrs. Cook, to whom it soon became a sad memorial of the departed. The many objections raised against Dr. Hawkesworth's official com- pound had proved the folly of employing professed Literateurs to dislil, rectify, and Jiavour the unadulterated observations of competent eye- witnesses. Cook was himself the narrator of his second voyage, and proved himself more than equal to the task. His style is just what it should be — like his meaning — thoroughly English, clear, and manly, — the less authorlike the better. George Forster also published an account of the voyage, which, Avhatever the Admiralty might say or think, he had a perfect right to do. The more accounts of any trans- action proceed from eye-witnesses the better for the interests of truth. The astronomers Wales and Bayley produced a book, chiefly scientific, but interspersed with general observations. Cook was now expected and intitled to rest, but neither his own spirit nor the spirit of the times would permit him to do so. Though the question of a southern continent was decided for all practical pur- poses, there was another great geographical problem which continued to agitate the public mind — that of the possibility of the passage to India by the north seas. Lord Sandwich was meditating an expedition for this purpose, and wished to have Captain Cook's opinion as to the manner in which it should be conducted, and the person to whom it should be intrusted. A great dinner was held at his Lordship's, at which the Circumnavigator, Sir Hugh Palliser, and other people of distinction were present. The north passage of course was the topic. The grandeur and importance of tlie project were eloquently magnified, — it was to consummate the system of discovery which Cook had all but finished. The Captain's imagination was fired : at last he leapt up and said, " I will do it ! " This was just what was wished, perhaps not more than was expected, but what no one had ventured to propose. On the 10th of February, 1776, Ca])tain Cook received his commis- sion. Two vessels were appointed to the service, the Resolution, com- manded by Cook in person, and the Discovery, commanded by Captain Clerke, a meritorious officer, who had sailed with the circumnavigator in former voyages. The usual plan was to be reversed : instead of seeking a north west passage from the Atlantic to the Pacific, the expe- CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 0/57 (lition was to sail to tlie northern parts of the Pacific, explore tlic north west coast of America, and search for a passage to the East. An act to amend an act was passed in 177'>, declaring;, "That if any ship belonging to any of his 3Iajesty's subjects, or to his Majesty, shall find ont, and sail through, aiiv passage by sea, between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, in any direction or parallel of the northern hemisphere to the north of the 52nd degree of northern latitude, tlie owners of such ships, if belonging to any of his INIajesty's subjects, or the commander, officers and seamen of such ship belonging to his IMajesty, sliall receive, as a reward for such discovery, the sum of £20,000." The ships M'ere furnished with every thing that could contribute either to the accomplishment of their main design, the general advance- ment of science, the health of the crew, or the furtherance of Cook's beneficent projects with regard to the inhabitants of newly discovered lauds. Cook sailed out of Plymouth Sound on the 12th of July, taking with liim Omai, who left England with a mixture of ])lcasure and regret. He had been a great Lion, and was painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds in the costume of his native country. Captain Gierke was detained for some time longer. The Resolution, liaving touched at Tenerifl^e and Porto Praya, anchored in Table Bay on the 18th of October. The Discovery joined on the 10th of November, and the two ships sailed southward on the 30th. On the 12th of December land was seen, M'hich proved to be a group of islands, two of which, in honour of their French discoverers, were named jMarion and Crozet's Isles. Two, of larger size, were called Prince Edward's Isles. After exploring the coast of Kerguelen's Land, a miserable countrj'-, which, if it had wanted a name, might fitly be called the Land of Desolation, the navi- gators made for Van Diemen's Land, and anchored in Adventure Bay on the 20'th of January, 1777- They saw more of the inhabi- tants than any preceding visitors ; found them savages of the lowest scale, but peaceable, neither doing nor apprehending evil. Omai, prouder of his superiority than a man longer accpiainted with the advan- tages of civilization, laughed at their clumsiness in hitting a mark with their spears, and terrified them so much by the discharge of a musket, that they all ran away, and there was some difficulty in rcne\ving their confidence. Cook left some swine in this island, l)ut thought there was no chance that sheep or aittle would be allowed to increase. Though the females were any thing but beautiful, some gentlemen of the Discovery attempted to seduce them, at which the men were very indignant. Cook also speaks Mith great disapprobation of such profligate gallantry. It may seem soniewhat remarkable for a sliip's crew to go ashore to 4o G58 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK, make hay, and yet tliis was one purpose of our voyager's tarrying in Van Dienien's Land. The niunerous live stock which it was proposed to distrihnte among the South Sea ishuids were running short of pro- vender. The grass proved coarse and scanty, but it was better than none. The sliips sailed again on the 30th of Januarj', and on the 12th of February arrived at the old station in Queen Charlotte's Sound. And now the New Zealanders, seeing Omai on board, and concluding that the miu-der of Captain Furneaux's men must have come to Cook's know- ledge, instead of the joy which succeeded their apprehensions on the last visit, displayed nothing but sullen mistrust, and for some time no kindness, no promises, could induce them to approach the vessels. At length Cook succeeded in convincing them that revenge was not the object of his return, and they became as familiar as ever. If, however, he refrained from shedding blood for blood, it was not for want of counsel to the contrary. " If," says the Captain, " I had followed the advice of all our pretended friends, I might have extirpated the whole race ; for the people of each hamlet or village by turns applied to me to destroy the other." In particular, there was a chief named Kahoora, the leader in the massacre, whom his countrymen were continually pointing out as a proper object of vengeance, in which they were strongly seconded by Omai. Kahoora almost won the Captain's admi- ration by confiding himself to his honour. He came to the ship in his canoe. " This was the third time," says Cook, " that he had visited us, without betraying the smallest appearance of fear. I was ashore when he now arrived, but had got on board just as he was going away. Omai, who had returned with me, presently pointed him out, and solicited me to shoot him. Not satisfied with this, he addi-essed himself lo Kahoora, threatening to be his executioner if ever he pre- sumed to visit us again. The New Zealander paid so little regard to his threats, that he returned the next morning with his whole family, men, women, and children, to the number of twenty and upwards. Omai was the first who acquainted me with his being alongside the ship, and desired to know if he should ask him to come aboard. I told him he might, and accordingly he introduced the chief into the cabin, saying, ' There is Kahoora, kill him.' But as if he had forgot his former threats, or were afraid that I should call upon him to perform them, he immediately retired. In a short time, however, he returned, and seeing the chief unhurt, he expostulated \vith me very earnestly, saying, ' Why do you not kill him ? You tell me if a man kill another in England that he is hanged for it. This man has killed ten, and yet you will not kill him, though many of his countrymen desire it, and it CAPTAIN .lAMl'S COOK. fj59 \V(»ul(l be very good.' Oiiiui's argunients, tliuugli s|M;cious euougli, liaving 110 wciglit with me, I desired liiiii to ask the chief why he killed Captain P\irneaiix'H people ? At this question Kahoora folded liis arms, hung down his head, and looked like one caught in a trap ; and I firmly believe that he exj)ected instant death. But no sooner was lie assured of his safety than he became cheerful. He did not, however, seem willing to give me an answer to the question that had been ])ut to him, till I had again and again repeated my promise that he should not be hurt. Then he ventured to tell us, ' that one of his countrymen, having ])rought a stone hatchet to barter, the man to whom it was offered took it, and would neither return it nor give any thing for it; on which the owner of it snatched up the bread as an equivalent, and then the quarrel began/ " * As no English eye-witnesses survived to tell the real circumstances of the massacre, it was impossible to know the truth or falsehood of Kahoora's stoi-y. AH the New Zealanders, however, e\en those who desired Kahoora's death, and who had no pei'sonal concern in the butchery, declared that it was the unpremeditated consequence of a casual disagreement ; and Kahoora's mode of accounting for it was as likely as any. He might very easily have invented a much greater provocation. Though Ca})tain Cook declined all measures of revenge, he wisely took much greater precautions in his dealings with the barbarians than he deemed necessary on former visits. A guard of ten marines con- stantly attended the party on shore, the workmen were well armed, and whenever a boat was sent out it was furnished with means of defence, and intrusted to officers well acquainted with the natives and their Mays. The disaster of Furneaux's men gave the English sailors so thorough a hatred of the New Zealanders, that they would not even approach their women, a circumstance very agreeable to the commander, who, though he could not altogether prevent illicit intercourse, always discouraged it ; and ably combats the assertion, that such transient connections are a security among savages. He maintains that they betray more men than they save, — " And how," he pertinently asks, "how should it be otherwise.'* what else can be expected, since all their views are sellish, without the least mixture of regard or attach- ment .'' " No quarrel occurred during this, the fifth and last visit of our commander to New Zealand. The people suj)plied the crew with plenty of fish, for notwithstanding the apparent in)perfcction of their hooks, they were much more successful, both with net and line, than the English. Cook made presents as usual to the cliiofs : two goats * Cook's Last Voyage, vol. i. 134. (JGO CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. and a kid to one, two pigs to another. He did think of leaving some sliecp, a bull, and t^vo heifers at Queen Charlotte's Sound, but finding no chief able and willing to protect animals which coidd not be con- cealed, he relinquished his purpose, He was informed that one chief, called Tiratou, had a cow, and many cocks and hens. So he had hopes that his endeavours for the benefit of tliis singular and improvable ra<:e would be finally crowned with success. Though the vegetables he had introduced had been neglected, they had sown and multiplied them- selves, and the potatoes were meliorated by the change of soil. Preparing to quit New Zealand for the last time. Captain Cook was persuaded by Omai to take m ith him two native youths. The father of the one dismissed him with indifference, and even stripped him of the little clothing he had ; but the mother of the other took leave with all the marks of maternal aflfection. The Captain, before he would assent to their going, took care to make them understand that they were never to return. On the 27th of February the Resolution and Discovery finally got clear of New Zealand. The poor boys were woefully sea-sick, and repented of their roving when it was too late. After calling at several islands,* the names of which we need not particularize, without obtain- ing many refreshments, our voyagers arrived at Annamooka on the 1st of May. Here provisions Avere abundant enough, but the thievishness of the inhabitants was very annoying. They cared not for a slight peppering of small shot, and as for corporal punishment, you might as well lash an oak tree. Their tattooed skins seemed absolutely insensible of pain. Captain Clerke liit on a mode of punishment, which was not altogether without effect, and may be worth the consideration of the revisers of the penal code. This was, to shave the heads of the offenders and let them go. From Annamooka the ships proceeded to Hadpaee, where they met with a friendly reception from the inhabitants, and from Earoupa the chief. There was a reciprocation of presents, civilities, and solemnities : on the parts of the natives were displayed single combats with clidjs, wrestling and boxing matches, female combatants, male dancei'S, * At one of these islands, Wateeoo by name, some of the inhabitants who came on board the Resolution were terrified and astonished at the sight of the cows and horses, but testified no alarm or surprise at the goats or sheep, which they said they knew to be birds. In the same island Omai met with three of his own countrymen, though Wateeoo (situate in 20" 1' south latitude) is more than 200 leagues from any of the Society Isles. Twelve persons, of whom the three were survivors, had embarked in a canoe, to pass from Otaheite to Ulictea, and by stress of storms had been driven thus far south. Eight perished by fatigue and famine on the way. CAPTAIN JAMKS COOK. f)61 noctiinml concerts, and halls. The En^rlish treated in return hy ii review of tlie marines, and an exhihitioii of fire-works. Cooiv after- wards expl(.red the coast of Ilapaee, Lofoof^a, and the neiirhhourin-,' islands. On the return to Annainooka, May 31st, the Resolutidii was very near ruiniin-; full aij^ainst a low sandy isle, surrounded with break- ers. "Such hazardous situations," as the Captiiin says, "are the unavoidable companions of the man wlio goes iipou a voyage of dis- covery." The accuracy Mith which Cook observed and noted down whatever might be of service to succeeding navigators, has materially diminished the dangers of the seas. The Friendly Islands, in which group arc included Anamooka, Ton- gataboo, Hapaee, Eaoowe, Lefooga, and others of less note, constituted a united kingdom ; and Captain Cook met at Happaee with Poulaho, the reigning monarch, by whom he was invited to Tongataboo, whither, after touching again at Annaniooka, the two commanders sailed, and had another hair-brcadth escape on the passage. At Tongataboo, where Cook arrived on the 10th of June, our voyagers were hospitably received and industriously amused by the King, but sorely jylundered by the commonalty, whose larcenies were the more irritating from the overt impudence with which they were perpetrated. It required all Cook's authority to hinder the sentinels from firing. On the 19th was a grand distribution of live stock. To King Poulaho was given a bull and a cow, and three goats ; to Fceuou, a chief of conseipience, and an acquaintance of some standing, a horse and mare ; to jMareewagee, a Cape ram and two ewes ; besides which he left in the island four pigs, a pair of rabbits, and a buck and doe. In bestowing these gifts, the Captain perhaps regretted that there were no laws for preserving game in Tonga. From Tonga our voyagers sailed to Eaoowe, where they met with some old friends, — for to a seaman in a far country every known face is an old friend. Captain Cook was one day served with a dish of turnips, the i)roduce of seed sown by himself during his former voyage; and he was so pleased with the success of his beneficence, that he enriched the chief's plantation with melons and a pinc-apple. The agriculture of the Friendly Islands was the best in Polynesia, and therefore the natives appreciated duly the value of cultivated vegetables. Our conunandor spent two or three months in this archipelago, and formed a very favourable opinion of the native character; abating that thievish instinct, which is only to be controuled by long subjection to law, and can never be eradicated but by the influences of a divine religion, (for whoever loves the world is a thief in his heart) ; and few will differ from Cook when he says, that " great allowances shoidd be made for 602 CAPTAIN JAMl-:S COOK. the foibles of tlie poor natives of the Pacific Ocean, whose miucls are overpowered with the glare of objects equally new to them as they Avere captivating." He also acquits them of dishonesty in their dealings with each other. The Resolution and Discovery quitted Tongataboo on the 17th of July. An eclipse of the moon was observed on the night between the 20th and 21st. On the 8th of August appeared the isle of Tubooai on which, though invited by the inhabitants, our navigators did not land, but proceeded to Otaheite, where they arrived on the 12th. Omai at first was coldly received : he was of low condition, and no one cared to recognize him ; but the meeting between the traveller and his sister was aifectionate in a high degree. His aunt also came, and washed his feet with her tears. Since Cook was in Otaheite last, two Spanish vessels had twice anchored in Oaita-piha Bay, and left animals in the country. Before a house which the Spaniards had occupied they had erected a wooden cross, on the transverse part of which M'as inscribed, " Christus vincit :" on the perpendicular, " Carolus III. imperat, 1774." On the other side of the post Captain Cook inscribed, "Georgius tertius rex. Annis. 1767, 1769, 1773. 1774, et 1777-" Thus commemorating the visit of Captain Wallis and his own. The Spaniards were well spoken of by the Otaheitans, A great instance of Cook's influence over his crew occurred about this time. As the voyage was inevitably to be protracted a year longer than was expected, and might be long delayed in frigid regions, where spirituous potations were really necessary, he persuaded the sailors to give up their allowance of grog (except on Saturday nights) so long as they were in a land of cocoa nuts, the liquor of w^hich is so nutri- cious and refreshing. To this the whole company assented without a murmur, and the example was followed on board the Discovery. It is a happy circumstance when generosity is convenient. Cook, in Otaheite, disposed of the greater part of his live cargo in gifts to the chieftains, whereby he did a good action, and lightened the vessels of very troublesome passengers. It was no cheap or easy eflfort of charity to carry cattle and provender half over the globe, to benefit an almost unknown race. A war was pending between Otaheite and Eimeo, and Cook was earnestly requested to take a part in it by the Otaheitans. But he steadily and conscientiously preserved neutrality, much to his own credit, and the Otaheitans' disappointment. Towtah, who commanded the expedition against Eimeo, was worsted, and obliged to submit to a disgraceful accommodation. On his return, he attributed his failure entirely to the want of proper support, and threatened, that as soon as CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 663 tlic English were gone, lie would join the peoj)le of Tiaraboo, and attack his sovereign Otoo at Oparre or Matavai. Ca])tain Cook then publicly declared, that if any such combination were formed he would assist the King t() the utmost of his power. This declaration had the desired effect, and Towtah continued (piiet, instead of becoming the Otalieitan Coriolanus. While remaining in Otaheite, our navigators witnessed a human sacrifice. The victim was stabbed imawares, and after a time exposed on the IVIorai. Though but one offering is ever made at a time, these sacrifices must have been i)retty often repeated, for forty-nine fresh skulls aj)peared on the sacrificial pile. The victims selected were generally low felU)WS, who stroll about without fixed habitation or employment. A pretty effective vagrant law ! On the 14th of September, Captains Cook and Clerke mounted on horseback, and took a ride round the plain of JMatavai. The surprise and admiration of the natives was as great as if they had seen centaurs in earnest — ])crhaps greater. We must not omit that our commander was freed from a rheumatic attack about this time, by a process very similar to shampooing, in M hich the operators were Otoo's mother, his three sisters, and eight other women. The Otalieitan name for the operation is Ilumee. Before his departiu-e, Otoo begged his acceptance of a large canoe, as a present to the Earec Ruble no Prefrain ; i.e. King of Britain. Cook was pleased with the thought, which arose from no suggestion of his, but from Otoo's spontaneous feeling. But the canoe was too large to be taken on board. On the 30th, our voyagers left Otaheite, and continued for some time cruising among the neighbouring isles; but we must pass over all that took place in these excursions, and only briefly mention that Omai was finally left at Huaheine, where a spot of ground was assigned him, a small cabin built, and his garden stocked with pineapples, shaddocks, vines, and the seeds of several European vegetables. On the 8th of December our voyagers sailed from Bolabola. They were lucky enough to find an uninhabited Christmas island, abounding with tin-tle for the Christmas dinner. On the 28th, an eclipse of the sun. On the 31st, after planting some cocoa nuts and melons, a bottle was left, with a jiaper denoting that the Resolution and Discovery had been at that spot on the last day of 1777- For the events of 1778, the discovery of the Sandwich Islands, the exploring the north west coast of America, the ascertaining the vicinity of the Asiatic and American continents, we nuist refer to the puljlished vovaa:es of Cook. All that we can say, is, that they sustained his (5(54 CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. reputation to the utmost, and add to the regret with \rhich every good mind must regard tlie catastrophe we proceed briefly to describe. After proceeding as far north as was practicable in the advanced season, with the strongest hopes of finally accomplishing the object of the voyage. Captain Cook steered southward, M'ith a design of wintering among the Sandwich Islands, and returning to Kamskatka the following spring. It was on the 30th of November that he discovered the fatal Owhyhce. Seven weeks elapsed in sailing round and examining its coasts, and in all this time the inhabitants shewed no symptom of hostility or suspicion. Not even the people of Otaheite had trusted themselves to English honour with such perfect confidence. On the 17th he anchored in Karakatooa Bay, where occurred the fatal quarrel in which he ])erished. A chieftain of rank was shot by the crew of an English boat, and in revenge, the Captain was attacked on all sides. His men strove in vain to assist him — he Avas stabbed in the back, and fell. His life is his character and his panegyric. It ceased abruptly, but it will never Ije forgotten.* * There is one circumstance connected with Cook's last voyage so honourable to human nature, that it must not be omitted. England was then at war with France. But the French King, considering the purely pacific and benevolent purpose for which Cook had braved the sea, ordered that the Eesolution and Discovery should be treated as neutral vessels. Franklin, who was then Ambassador in France from the Congress, recommended that the United States should issue similar orders, but it doas not appear that Congress attended to the suggestion. WILLIAM CONGREVE. Yorkshire claims but little in this fortunate wit, ami lier claim to that little has been litigated. His family was of StafTonlshire, his education was in Ireland ; he led a town life, and arfpiired a town celebrity. Yorkshire C(»uld only boast the jdace of his nativity — the hedge-sparrow's nest wherein the cuckoo was hatched — and this modest pretension has been controverted by the isle of ivU.s, for so might the country of Swift, Farquhar, Sheridan and ]\Ioore be rightly denomi- nated, rather than the isle of saints, seeing that for the Irish saints the Acta Sanctorum itself will not vouch, while the Irish wits need no vouchers. We have ourselves heard it vehemently asserted, that all the writers of the middle''- comedy were Irishmen, of course including ♦The terms old, middU', and new, applied to the dynasties of Greek Comedy, may with little violence be transferred to the Enirlisli stase. It must, however, he remarked, that of the two latter races, each oripnated in the life-time of its predecessor. The old or poetical comedy, composed of a mixture of blank verse and prose, often with a strong infusion of pathetic interest, and very frequently interspersed with songs, dances, &c., flourished under Elizabeth and James. Fine specimens of it are found in Fletcher and Massinger, but perhaps the very finest in Shakspeare's Twelfth Night, and As You Like It. It has been revived or imitated by Tobin, in his Honey-Moon. The second, or middle style, was first perfected by Ben .lonson, though chronology would rather class him with the writers of the old comedy. But he seems to have been the earliest dramatist who, in a regular composition, relied for effect entirely on the representation of contemporary life and manners. The middle comedy became predominant after the Restoration, and numbers many writers of unequal meritj the last were Cumberland and Sheridan. It has many minor varieties, of which the most considerable are the moralizing genteel comedy, introduced by Cibber, and the Spanish intriguing comedy, of which the principal writers have been female. The new comedy, of which the principal masters are Colman, Morton, Reynolds, Dibdin, Diamond, &.c., has been denominated sentimental, or by a French expression, comcdlc iarmoi/aiit, crying comedy, an apparent contradiction. It is, in tnith, the comic correlative to Lillo's tragedy. Much as it is reviled by the critics, something vcrj- like it is occa- sionally to be found in old Heywood, the prose Shakspeare. Perhaps its just dis- tinction is the demormtic comedy, for the virtuous characters arc almost always operatives, or shopkeepers, or small farmers. However inferior it may be to the middle or lecritimate comedy as a work of art, and still more to the poetic comedy a-s 4 r 6GG WILLIAM CONGREVE. Congrcve in tlie number. It is true, that he called himself an English- man, and expressly mentioned Bardsea, in Yorkshire, as his birth- place ; but then a man may be mistaken as to the place he was born in, or he may be ashamed of it. Dr. Johnson's judgment in this matter is a singular instance of that leaning against the subjects of his biogra- phy, of which he is justly accused by Mr. Roscoe. — " It was said by liimself," observes the Doctor, " that he owed his nativity to England, and by every body else, that he Mas born in Ireland. Southerne men- tioned him with sharp censure, as a man that meanly disowned his native country. To doubt whether a man of eminence has told the truth about his own birth, is in ajipearance to be very deficient in can- dour ; yet nobody can live long without knowing that falsehoods of convenience or vanity, falsehoods from which no evil immediately visible ensues except the general degradation of hiunan testimony, are very lightly uttered, and when once uttered are sullenly supported. Boileau, who desired to be thought a rigorous and steady moralist, having told a petty lie to Louis XIV,, continued it afterwards by fiilse dates, thinking liimself obliged in honour, says his admirer, to maintain what, when he said it, was so well received." It is a pity that the Doctor, Avho, like Boileau, aimed at the character of "a steady snd rigorous moralist," did not reflect that sophistry is first cousin, only once removed, to lying, and that an uncharitable piece of special pleading, intended to injure the reputation of the illustrious dead, is not a very white lie. Congreve, whatever his faults might be, was not a fool ; nor was his convenience or vanity at all concerned in proving himself a Yorkshireman rather than an Irishman. To be born in Ireland was never disreputable, and to be born in Yorkshire is an honour too conunon to be worth contending for. Were there decisive evidence that Congreve was wrong as to the fact, it had been candid to suppose him mistaken, which the son of an officer in a marching regi- ment might easily be, about the year and place of his nativity. But there is decisive evidence that he was right, — to wit, the parish register of Bardsea, and the matriculation book* of Trinity College, Dublin. a birth of imagination, we cannot think it deserves all the vituperation that has been heaped upon it. Its worst defect is, that it does not represent the actual manners of any class, — its characters are unreal without being imaginative. Still, a composition which excites laughter mixed with kindliness can never be worthless, for kindness is always worth something, and laughter is always good when it does not proceed from scorn. * The notice of Congreve's matriculation, in the College Register, is as follows: " lf»85, die quinto Aprilis hora diei pomeridiana G'ulielmus Congreve Pensionarius filius Gulielmi Congreve Generosi de Youghalia annos natus 16 natus apud Bardsa- WILLIAM CONGREVli. fi()7 All extract from the former runs tlius : — "William, tlie somie of INIr. William Coiiffreve, of Bardsey Grange, baptized February 10tli,(10r)J))." In the notice of his matriculation at Trinity College, Dublin, he is expressly described as bijrn at liardsea, in Yorkshire. Now surely it is no advantage in Dublin College to be an Englishman. This important circumstance, tlierefore, we may consider as set at rest, and Congreve is fairly intitled tQ a place among the Yorkshire Worthies. William Congreve, then, was descended from an ancient and rcsjHict- ablc family, long settled in Staffordshire, whose armorial l)earings figure in the margin of Dr. Plot's map, prefixed to his Natural History of that County. He was the only surviving son of William Congreve, Esq., second son of Richard Congreve, Esq., of Congreve and Stratton, His mother was a near relation of Sir John Lewis of Bardsea, and at Bardsey Grange he first drew breath. His birth-day is not precisely known, but it nuist have been towards the close of 1GG9, or commence- ment of ]G70 ; for on tlie lOtli of February, 1G69-70, he was baptized. In his infancy lie was carried into Ireland with his father, who was tlien in the army, but afterwards became manager of part of the large estate of the noble family of Burlington, which fixed his residence in the sister island. This sufficiently accounts for Southerne, who may have seen Congreve in Ireland a mere cliild, asserting so positively tliat he "meanly disowned his country." Young Congreve's early education was at tlie great scliool of Kilkenny, and his first poetical essaj-, an elegy on liis master's magpie. In due time he was removed to Trinity College, Dublin, then flourishing under the tutorage of Dr. St. George gram ia Comitatii Eboracensi educatus Kilkennia;, suhferuld Doctoris Hinton, Tutor. St. George Ash." " 1685. On the fifth day of April, at one o'clock in the afternoon, William Con- greve, Pensioner, son of William Congreve, gentleman, of Youghal, aged sixteen, born at Bardsea, in the county of York, educated at Kilkenny, under the rod of Dr. Ilinton. Tutor, St George Ashe." It may be observed, that his age in 1685 (sixteen) tallies with the Bardsea register, which fixes his birth somewhere about 1669. Yet the inscription on his monument states his age at fifty-six at the time of his death (Januarj- 29th, 1728-9), which would bring down his birth to 1771 or 1772. A year at least must be detracted from the marvel of his first plays. N. B. A Pensioner at Cambridge and Dublin Universities (for the term is unknown at Oxford), implies a person pat/in;/ for the benefit of the College, and receiving no pension. Observe the phrase sub ferula : a rod or foruli- was tlieu supposed as indispensable to an instructor as a nominati\o case to a verb. In a school lately established not a hundred miles from Leeds, the masters arc bound by their engagement uever to inflict corporal punishment. What would Orbilius, Busby, Boyeyer, Parr, and Uoloferues say to this ? 668 WILLIAM CONGREVE. Ash, \i iiere he acquired a hirgcr portion of Greek aud Latin than was then necessary for a fine gentleman. Whether in compliance with established custom, or with a view to profession, he was afterwards entered of the ^Middle Teniple, and lived in chambers for some years, but probably paid no more attention to law than the critical Templar of the Spectator's club. While little more than seventeen, he composed a novel, entitled, " Incognita, or Love and Duty Reconciled." It was dedicated, under the assumed name of Cleophil, to ]\Irs. Catherine Leveson. We are unable to determine who this lady might be, nor have we ever seen the novel itself. Could we procure it, we would not, like Johnson, rather praise it than read it. The following extract from the preface may shew, however, how Congreve could write at seventeen, and how early he turned his thoughts to dramatic construction. ^••^' Since all traditions must indisputably give place to the drama, and §ince there is no possibility of giving that life to the writing or repeti- tion of a story which it has in the action, I resolve in another beauty to imitate dramatic writing, namely, in the design, contexture, and result of the plot. I have not observed it before in a novcK Some I have seen Ijcgin with an unexpected accident, which has been the only sur- prizing part of tlie story, — cause enough to make the sequel look flat, tedious, and insipid ; for it is but reasonable for the reader to expect, if not to rise, at least to keep upon a level in the entertainment ; for so he may be kept on in hopes that at some time or other it may mend ; but the other is such a baulk to a man, — it is carrying him up stairs to shew him the dining room, and after, forcing him to make a meal in the kitchen. This I have not only endeavoured to avoid, but also have used a method for the contrary purpose. The design of this novel is obvious, after the first meeting of Aurelian and Hii)j)oljto with Incog- nita and Leonora ; the difficulty is in bringing it to pass, maugre all apparent obstacles, within the compass of two days. How many pro- bable casualties intervene in opposition to the main design, viz., of marrying two couples so oddly engaged in an intricate amour, I leave to the reader at his leisure to consider ; as also, whether every obstacle does not, in the progress of tlie story, act as subservient to that pin-pose, which at first it seems to oppose. In a comedy this Mould be called the unity of iiction ; here it may pretend to no more than an unity of con- trivance. The scene is continued in Florence from the commencement of the amour, and the time from first to last is but three days. If there be any thing more in particular resembling the copy which I imitate, as the curious reader will sooji perceive, I leave it to shew itself, being very well satisfied how much more })roper it had been for him to find "WILLIAM CONGUEVli, 069 out tliis of liiinsclf, than for mc to possess liiin with an o])iiiion of sonic, tiling extraordinary in an essay, liegun and tinislied in the idh-r hours of a fortniglit's time ; for I can only esteem tliat a laborious idleness, that is parent to so inconsiderable a birth." The thouglit of contining a novel to the unities was something ori- ginal. But French criticism was then the rage : Dryden, too wise to fetter himself in practice, had given a jiojiularity to its princi])les by his discussions ; and Congreve^, a precocious mind, might Iiope to gain a laurel by ajjplying the French rules to a species of composition never before made amenable to them ; as if one should make tea or brew small beer in chemical nomenclature. But the idea has nothing but novelty to recommend it. It may Ije laid down with as much certainty in literature as iu politics, that all restriction is evil, per se, and can only l)e recommended or justified by a clear necessity, or a manifest benefit. The continuity and precipita- tion which a limited time or an immovable scene bestow, are of some value in the drama, and at any rate prevent the awkwardness of an interrupted action; but in a prose narrative the good avnnot be obtained, while the restraint and inconvenience remain. We are told, that the story of " Incognita " is unnatural. How can it be otherwise, M'hen two pair of lovers are to carry through their wooing and wedding, iu spite of all the obstacles necessary to constitute a plot and an intrigue, iu two days } But, besides unnaturally forcing the development of events, this confined construction forbids that natural development and growth of character which is the main charm of a good novel, in which the influence of every event upon the hearts and minds of the ageuts and patients should be distinctly, yet not obtrusively marked ; and even the eifect of time on passions and humours should not be unnoted. We know not the precise a;ra at which Incognita was published ; but it was not long liefore Congreve turned his efforts to that quarter in M-hich alone he was destined to excel. He has himself told us, in his reply to Jeremy Collier, that to divert the tedium of convalescence from a severe illness, he began to compose a comedy. The result of his lucubrations was " The Old Bachelor." At that time it was usual for authors to assemble in taverns and coffee-houses, and many a manuscrijit Mas discussed o\er the bottle. Every one must remember how Pope iu his childhood was carried to the coffee-house Avhere Dryden usually presided, and beheld the veteran in his arm chair, which in winter held a prescriptive jilace by the fire side. This popination (as a (piaint old writer terms it) rendered the seniors of literatiu'e much more accessible to young aspirants than the domestic habits of the prescut race, with all their hospiUdity, permit 670 WILLIAM CONGREVE. thcni to 1)0. Coiigrcve, :i templar, and almost a boy, liad already heard and partaken the conversation of Dryden, Wyclierly, Southerne, and other poets and critics, and frequenters of the theatre, so that he had the Ijenefit of experience, by anticipation, in a line of writing M'liich has been supposed to require more experience tlian any other. When the " Old Bachelor " was shewn to Dryden, he pronounced that " Such a tirst play he had never seen." Something, however, was yet wanting to ensure its success, for he added, " It was a pity, seeing the author Mas ignorant of stage and town, that he should miscarry for want of a little assistance. The stuff was rich indeed, only tlie fashionable cut was wanting." According to Southerne, it was near miscarrying from another cause : — " When he brought it to the players, he read it so wretchedly ill that they were on the point of rejecting it, till one of them good-natiu-edly took it out of his hands, and read it." The players must, however, have expected great things from him ; for Thomas Davenant, then manager of Drury Lane, gave him what is called the privilege of the house half a year before his play came on the stage, a favour at that time unparalleled. Having undergone a revision from Dryden, Southerne, and IManv.airing, the " Old Bachelor " was produced in 1693, before a crowded and splendid audience, and met Mith trium])liant success. The prologue intended to have been spoken Mas written by Lord Falkland. The play, when printed, was prefaced with three copies of commendatory verses, by Southerne, JMarsh, and Higgins. The pride or modesty of a modern writer would revolt at the ancient custom of publishing these flattering testimonials in the vestibule of his own book, where, after all, they could not answer the place of an advertisement. Flattery, wherever she may now abide, no longer rules despotic in first pages.* The exhibition of the " Old Bachelor " was hailed as a new ajra in tlieatric history. The praise which it fairly earned by its intrinsic merit was aggravated by respect to the author's youth. The critics were glad to display their generosity by applauding, and their candour by forgiving : the play-going public gave their usual hearty welcome to • Congreve dedicated the Old Bachelor to the Lord Clifford of Lanesborough, son to the Lord Burlington. The allusion to the connection between the families is neat. " My Lord, it is with great pleasure I lay hold on this first occasion which the acci- dents of my life have given me of writing to your Lordship ; for since, at the same time, I write to all the world, it will be the means of publishing what I would have everj' body know, — the respect and duty which I owe and pay to you. 1 have so much inclination to be your's, that I need no other engagement, but the particular ties by which I am bound both to your Lordship and family, have put it out of my power to make you any compliment, since all offers of myself will amount to no more than an honest acknowledgment, and only shew a willingness in me to be grateful." WILLIAM CONCREVK. Cjl a new comer : reader and aiiditdi- alike were amazed at the stripling whose maiden essay achieved what so many lalxirious brains had been toiling for the last half century to produce — jjcrpetual excitcnioiit and incessant si)londour. But this " gay comedy " brought down rewards more comfortable than the cold approbation of the fiiw, more lasting than the manual i>laudits of the many, and far more lucrative tlian tlie casual profits of an author's night. Charles Montague, afterwards Earl of Halifax, who owed his own advancement partly to a worthless jeu' d' esprit,* written in concert with Prior, in which he meaidy and ♦The Court and Country Mouse, a very flat imitation of the Rehearsal, meant to ridicule Dryden's Hind and Panther, not of course sparing his conversion to the creed of the abdicated monarch. It may be found in the State Poems, but it is not worth looking for. We are sorry that Prior, for whom we have a sneaking aftection, should have had any thing to do with it. The manifest absurdity and incongruity of Dryden's allegory must have been obvious to Drj-den himself; but perhaps he thought absurdity as necessary for a superstitions King, as obscenity for a polluted stage. Montague seems to have delighted in kicking at the Ex-Laureate. lu one of the few copies of indift'erent couplets which give him a place among the Poets (! ! !) of Great Britain, occur the following lines, in which there is but too much truth,— but it is not truth which a generous mind would have cast in the teetii of a great man, oppressed with years and misfortunes: — " Dryden has numbers, but he wants a heart, • « • • • Now sentenced, by a penance too severe, For playing once the fool, to persevere." That Dryden, as a Poet, wants heart (whatever he may have done as a man), his warmest admirers (and we are among them) can hardly deny ; but this was not Montague's meaning. In the couplet, he hints that Diyden would gladly have returned to the Church of England if his double apostacy would have been accept- able. But this is an uncharitable surmise. He might not be, in the highest sense of the word, sincere in his reunion to the Church of Rome : but there is no reason in the world to assume that he was an absolute and deliberate impostor. Much more likely he was as sincere a Catholic as ever he had been a Christian, — as sincere as the bulk of professing Christians in any sect or denomination. His good sense convinced him that religion was fjood; but whether it was true or not, he vcrj- probably neither knew nor cared. Most likely he thought it a particularly good thing for the common people; and of course, therefore, concluded that form of religion to be best which is most potent over the many, and gives most power to the pastors. Now this is undoubtedly the Catholic. Any one who will read the preface to Dryden's Religio Laici, written while he was still a professing Protestant, will perceive that he had already adopted principles, of which the expediency of Popery was a necessary consequence. The arguments which the Church of Rome has to advance are neither few nor easily answered. The comnuuiion of that Church otVers many spiritual advantages and facilities to a man declining in years, who could not look back on his pa.st course with much satisfaction, and who had all the work of religion yet to do. That the time of his conversion coincided with his apparent interest, might account for his 672 WILLIAM CONGREVE. stupidly insTiltotl the grey liairs of Drydcn, liad latel^y ])oon invested witli tlie Chancellorship of the Exchequer, and as the gravity of that othce was not strictly compatible with the profession of a wit, he took upon him the character of INIecaeuas, — a very expensive honour, when it was expected of a patron to pay handsomely for every dedication that was offered him. Dorset, \vho preceded Montague as INIecajnas, must have been considerably out of pocket at the year's end on this score alone, though some part of the onus fell on Nell Gwynne,* the Duchess of Portsmouth, and IMary of Estc. But IMontague having the finger- ing of the public money, and succeeding to the management of a government in which interest was to supply the place of terror, and influence to heal the breaches of prerogative, hit on a more economical method of securing the adulation of prosemen and versemen than pay- ing them for dedications. Louis XIV. had pensioned poets, and was supposed to have laid out the money at good interest ; but Louis was an absolute sovereign, and had no Parliament to overhaul his accounts. To have put a Poet into any post of responsibility was too hazardous. It is assuredly better to pay men for doing nothing, than for spoiling work. But most conveniently it happened, that there were a large stock of places, which had outlasted the occasions for which they were invented. There were Boards, which were furnished with a double set of members, — one for use, which, like the vocal pipes in the body of an organ, were kept out of sight, i. e. the clerks, deputies, &c., and another, like the pipes in the front of an organ, displayed to public view with all advantages of gilding. Thus, without expense to himself, additional expense to the country, or risk of exposure by appointing an incompetent person to an office of trust, IMontague was enabled to make Congrevc a Commissioner for licensing hackney coaches, to give him a place in the pipe office, and shortly after another in the customs, worth six hundred a year, and all for writing a single comedy. Never, in insincerity, were it proved ; and can it prove it while it is donbtful ? No established law of nature or reason forbids that a man's convictions shall coincide with his inte- rests. In truth, while man remai)is in the state of nature, the probabilities and plausibilities, which are all that he can know of religion, are so equally poised, that the scales might hang for ever in equilibrium, if the volition were not exerted to make the one or other preponderate; and the volition is always determined by the habit, interest, or passion, if it be not modified and subjected by Divine influence. * One of Mrs. Behn's plays is appropriately dedicated to this mother of nobles, who had so much kind-heartedness as to remind one pitifully of the title of Ford's tragedy. Otway dedicated his " Venice Presei-ved " to the Duchess of Portsmouth ; and Dryden his abominable parody upon Paradise Lost, to Mary of Este, the beautiful and unfor- tunate Queen of James II., to whom certain of the patriots of eighty-eight, not con- tent with depriving her of a crown, denied the holier honours of maternity. WILLIAM CONGREVR. G73 England at least, was aiitlior rewarded so rajiitlly — wldoni so higlily. The money value of wit had risen mightily at court, since poor Butler was alldwed to linger out a life (»f |)(»verty. Even Dryden had little more than the Laureate's paltry hundred. Perhaps the W'liigs wished to make the amc/nlc hoituura/jle to the IMuses for their ejection of Dryden, by extraordinary liberality to Congreve. The days of William were not the days of economical reforni. It does not appear that this accumidation of places on a lucky theatrical adventurer excited any discontent, except, it may be, among some of the stricter sort, who deemed the Poet's meed the wages of vanity. We will not speculate on the reception that the sinecurist's next j>Iay would have met from the gallery in these days, or how the political economists would have approved so extravagant a bounty upon unpro- ductive labour. IMeanwhile, there is nothing moves the indignation of certain persons more than the evil eye which the poor, and nut only the poor, are taught to cast on the gi-atuities of the Treasury. Few of these have lately descended upon authors, but those few have not escaped severe animadversion in the Extraordinary Black Book, and similar publications, wherein, as usual, the reflections arc ever more bitter ag-ainst the receivers tlian against the givers. Hireling and slave are tlie civilest ])hrases which any writer may expect who accepts a boon from the rulers of his country. These feelings, however, are but natural to a period of financial end)arrassment and general distress. A poor woman might very excusably complain of her husband, if he spent his wages upon poems, or play-books, or picture-books, while she and her children were want- ing bread. But suppose this state of things passed away, the question would still remain ; — In what measure, and by what method, should literature and the fine arts be fostered by the state? We might extend the enquiry further, and ask, — " Are the higher objects of the human intellect legitimate objects of civil government ? " And, — " Should the achievements of intellect, simply as such, and without reference to any increase of wealth, or safety, or convenience to be derived from them, be rewarded or honoured by the comnuuiity in its corporate capacity, or be left to the care of the people in their individual capa- cities ? " We purposely waive all discussion of these questions on grounds of public economy. We shall not enter into argument m ith the Utili- tai-ians, as to what abstract science, or fine literature, or fine art, are worth, or what use they are of, or whether we might not do very well without tlieni. We will, for the present, take it for granted, that the faculties of pure reason, imagination, and taste, ought to be perfected as 4q 674 WILLIAM CONGREVE. iiiucli as possible t tliat pliil(»sa])liy and poetry, trutli and beauty, are noble ends of Imnian nature. We will assume — nay, assert — tliat every man, ricli or poor, is, or may be, the better for whatever exalts the imagination, or humanizes the heart: in a short sentence of plain prose, that public money would be well and vvisely expended in the promotion of literature, and of fine literature, if the disbursement Mere really for the benefit of literature or its professors. But " there's the rub." It is held by some, whose sentence is not lightly to be set aside, that were it not for the support and sustenance of the state (which is and must be represented by the government for the time being) ; were it not for endowments, salaries, honours, privileges, determined by positive laws, and involved in the very constitution of property, all studies would cease but those which are subservient to the needs and appetites of the body, or gratify the whim, humour, passion, or fashion of the moment ; all poetry become a dead letter, philosophy a forgotten dream, religion a ghost untimely severed from the body, Aud uiKiwares Morality expire. In short, that men Mould love, esteem, or venerate nothing beyond that which they had in common with beasts, if there were not an imputed dignity, an artificial system, to uphold the Man in JMan. This is a fearful denunciation, a woeful prospect, — but Iioav far is it borne out by facts? That mankind in general are too apt to forget the interests of the soul, is a sad and awful truth ; but it is a tendency M-hich no w^orldly power, no worldly wealth, no human bounty can counteract. It is as impossible to bribe, as to persecute men into caring for their souls. It can never be any man's worldly interest to be unworldly. But, it may be answered, if endowments and establish- ments cannot avert the decay of piety, they may opjiose the advances of ignorance. They may make knowledge honourable, and secure leisure for study. They may, M-hich is more than all, disengage a portion of the pidjlic heart from the passions and pursuits of the day, and procure respect for accomplishments and acquisitions M'hose value is to the mind. They may induce some, mIio -vould else be content to stop at the needful, to aim at the perfect. And in this, there is cer- tainly some truth. It is a Mork of long time, to interest the multitude, the great vulgar or the smally in any thing that is not of the earth, earthy ; and yet how few Mould undergo the toil of intellectual exertion, of deep research, of patient investigation, of painful thought, if they knew not of any to appreciate their labours, to sympathize w'lih their perplexities of doubt, their joys of discovery ? Or sujjpose that a feu- have studied solely for their own delight, Mithout a wish to communi- cate, the Morld has V)een none the better for their lucubrations. In WILLIAM CONGREVE. GJ'j those rude ami stormy periods, when war is the oidy tKcupation, and the chace or the banquet the only rehixatious of tlic noble and the free, — while the laborious classes, !)rutalized by oppression, are too ignorant to desire knowledge, and the whole atinusphere of society too inclement for peaceful contemplation, or tender fancy, — whatever of learning or of art may subsist, would infallibly ])erish, if left to make its own way in the world. To ensure mutual aid, protection, and sympathy, the learned must separate themselves from the many, and be united under common regulations; they must form for themselves a corporate constitution, an imperium in impcriu ; they will need a strong arm to preserve their " pensive citadels " from violence ; and, as their labours have yet accpiired no saleable value, they must be dependent either uj)on alms, too often obtained by imposing on credulity, or on be(juests and donations from the rich and great. Here we may behold the origin and necessity of colleges, academies, and the like foundations, by means of wliich a learned class arose in the very heart of mediaeval darkness, — instructors and counsellors were raised uj), by whom a taste for know ledge was cijinmunicatcd to the higher gentry, — the value of learning was impressed upon the minds of the charitable, who were thus incited to provide the means of gratu- itous instruction for the poor. The more information was diffused, the higher and purer Mas the respect paid it. The scholar and the philo- sopher obtained reverence as such from high and low, and were no longer obliged to be priests, conjurers, or astrologers. We admit, therefore, that up to a certain point, an established order of learned men is absolutely necessary for the conservation of literature and the prevention of barbarism ; and that this order can only be preserved by the power of the state, or by the superstitious reverence of the people, — that is, while the people remain so ignorant as to be incapable of conceiving the true value of knowledge, or till knowledge is so far perfected as to demonstrate its own value by its practical results. But, after a certain point, there needs no adventitious advantages to conciliate regard to the perfections and achievements of intellect. The danger is, that they will be too much prized, too much desiree afforded to \ ain youth. 078 WILLIAM CONGREVE. ■\vlio, by a servile display of flashy fantasies, and a presumptuous rivalry of well-bred vices, endeavour to insinuate themselves, canker like, into the opening- blossoms of nobility ; nor should the more prudent advances of the middle-aged be suffered to outstep the bounds of modesty. Although Me cannot reckon the pi-ofusion of sinecures which rewarded the j)roduction of the " Old Bachelor " as one of the happiest signs of tlie times of Halifax, it was utterly unjust in Swift, Pope, and the other Tory wits, to represent that minister as regardless of the claims of genius, and only liberal to party virulence. Yet the Dean, in one of his minor poems, literally holds up Congrcve as having been long neglected, and half-starved. — " Thus Congreve spent, iu writing plays, And one poor office, half his days ; While Montague, who claimed the station To be Maecenas of the nation, For poets open table kept, But ne'er considered where they sleptj Himself, as rich as fifty Jews, \^^as easy, tho' they wanted shoes ; And crazy Congreve scarce could spare A shilling to discharge his chair, Till prudence taught him to appeal From Paean's fire to party zeal : Not owing to his happy vein The fortunes of his latter scene ; Took proper principles to thrive, And so might any dunce alive." In this last line the Dean is deplorably in the wrong. Dunces never thrive but in the way of honesty. Had not Congreve been a splendid wit, he would not have been worth purchase. We caiuiot conjecture why he calls Congreve crazy. There is no madness is his writings, — neither the fine madness of poetry, nor the rant and fury of a disordered brain: and in his private conduct, whatever virtue he might want, he possessed an ample store of prudence. With so little of truth or reason could the man write, who, of all his contemporaries, viighl have been the greatest philosopher. Congreve's next play was the " Double Dealer," * produced in 1694. * In the preface to this comedy are some observations, so just, and of so extensive an application, that they will be worth their room at the bottom of the page : — " That which looks most like an objection, does not relate in particular to this play, but to all, or most, that ever have been written; that is, solilociuy; therefore I will answer it, not only for my own sake, but to save others the trouble to whom hereafter it may be objected. I grant, that for a man to talk to himself appears absurd and unnatural, and indeed it is so in most cases; but the circumstances wir.r.iAM coNnRF.vF.. «70 It seltlom hap])ciis that a second work is received with an increase of applause. There is, iiuh in'iidcnt of envy, a very strong tendency to suspect writers of falling below themselves. Homer himself has been accused of betraying senility in the Odyssee ; and the more subdued interest necessarily arising from the jjlan and subject of Paradise Regained, has been ascribed, with little justice, to the increasing years of Milton. The Doulde Dealer, though the performance was honoured with the presence of Queen IMary, met with some opposition on the stage, and a good deal of severe criticism in the closet. Congreve had little difficulty in parrying the individual objections : of such criticism as was then current he was a dexterous master, and as he wrote with great care and forethought according to his own ideal of perfection, he probably anticipated every censure in his mind before it was uttered. But those who read his works in these days will be rather s\ir])rised to find him assuming the part of a censor and a moralist, and telling the ladies tliat he aims at their reformation and improvement. " There is one thing," says he, "at which I am more concerned, than all the false criticisms that are made upon me ; and that is, some of the ladies are offended. I am heartily sorry for it, for I declare I would rather disoblijre all the critics in the world than one of the fair sex. They are concerned that I have represented some Avomen vicious and affected. How can I help it? It is the business of a comic poet to paint the vices and follies of human kind ; and there arc but two sexes, male and female, men and women, that have a title to humanity ; and if I leave one half of them out, the work will be imperfect. I should be very glad of an opportunity to make my compliments to those ladies who are offended. But they can no more expect it in a comedy, than to be which may attend the occasion make great alterations. It oftentimes happens to a man to have designs which confine him to himself, and in their nature cannot admit of a confident. Such, for certain, is all villainy; and other less mischievous inten- tions may be very improper to be communicated to a second person. In such a case the audience must o'.serve whether the person upon tlie stage takes any notice of them at all or no ; for if he supposes any one to be by when he talks to himself, it is mon- strous and ridiculous in the last degree; nay, not only in this case, but in any part of a play, if there be expres.sed any knowledge of an audience, it is insutTerable. But otherwise, when a nnin, in suliloiiuizing, reasons with himself, and /»v.s- and conn, and weighs all his designs, we ought not to inuigine that tills man either talks to us, or to himself; he is only thinking, and thinking such matter as it were inexcusable folly in him to speak. But because we are concealed spectators of the plot in agitation, and the poet finds it necessary to let us know the whole myster}- of his contrivance, lie is willing to inform us of this pei"son's thought*, and to that end is forced to make use of the expedient of speech, no other or better way being yet invented for the com- munication of thought." C30 WILUAM CONGREVE. tickled by a surgeon when he's letting them blood. Those who are virtuous or discreet should not be offended; for such characters as these distinguish them, and make their virtues more shining and observed ; and they who are of the other kind may nevertheless pass for such, by seeming not to be displeased or touched with the satire in this comedy. Thus they have also wrongfully accused me of doing them a prejudice, when I have in reality done them a service." This is the common plea of satirists, but it is at best an afterthought. We are far from deeming the satirists among the most malicious of mankind : they are, at worst, splenetic, but for the most part rather vain than ill-natured. But it is much easier to shine in depicting a moral than an immoral character; and of all characters, the truly virtuous female is the most difficult to draw satisfactorily in a dramatic poem. It is easy enough to describe, for it is not unfi-ecpiently seen ; it is very easy for a poet to praise, for he has little to do but to collect all the fine and savoury comparisons which Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, botany, mineralogy, zoology, and metaphysics supply, and attach them to a sylph-like figure, with black or auburn locks, as the case may require. But Mheu the woman is to speak and act, M'hen she is to shed the perfume of her goodness spontaneousl}^, and shine by her own light, and yet not overstep the reserved duties of her sex — there is a task beneath which human genius is in danger of breaking down. We really cannot recal to memory a single dramatic female whom we should recommend for a wife, or for an example. Shakspeare's women are many of them exceedingly lovely, but from the small discretion he seems to have used in the choice of his stories, what they do is not always in unison with what they are. Their words and feelings are their natvu-e ; their actions are their destiny. The common run of tragedy queens are very uuamiable ; so much so, indeed, that it is pleasant to reflect that they have no resemblance to nature or reality. Comic females are much more entertaining; but with the exception of one or two specimens of prudent perfection, generally introduced, like Lady Grace, for the sake of contrast, and a few pieces of sentimental simplicity, such as Cicely Homespun, they are almost universally dis- tinguished by a readiness of falsehood, a spirit of intrigue, and strata- gem, which must make them very dangerous inmates or companions. Yet it would be next to impossible to write a comedy from which this sort of underplay was exiled. The choice seems to be, whether the interest shall turn mainly upon the bad characters, and the better sort of persons throughout be dupes and victims, consigned to happiness at last by some Monderful accident or discovery (the plan generally pursued by Fielding in his novels), orMhether, as in Congrevc, all shall play a game WILLIAM CON(.REVE. Ggl of delusion, atwhidi all the drmnulis persona' a.re [thiy'wg, in wliieli the best player is the winner. There is a stron^; tendency in the human mind to exult in the surcess (»f stratajj;cm. There must, indeed, l)e some excuse invented for cheatiii';; but love, revenge, self-defence, or the mere pleasiu'C of vvitty contrivances, will answer the j)urpose very well with an audience, who are always glad to give their moral judg- ment a holyday. But though the heroine of a comedy can hardly l>e a good example to her sex, there is no necessity that she should be an offensive insult to it. Her faults should be such as a good woman might feel it possible for herself to have committed, — such as a moderate degree (»f self, delusion might pass off for virtues. The ladies were quite right in resenting the exhibition of Lady Touchwood. An innocent heart would require much and sad experience to convince it of the possibility of such a being. There are degrees of wickedness too bad to laugh at, however they may be mingled with folly, affectation, or absurdity. Towards the close of 1G94 Queen j\Iary died. Few Queens have made fewer personal enemies, and perhaps few have been more sincerely regretted. But Mere we to judge of the quality of the national affliction by the sable flights of lugubrious verse that were devoted to the good Queen's memory, we should say that the Englisli nation Mere the Morst actors of royal Moe in the Morld. Congrevc committed a pastoral among the rest, — perhaps not the Morst copy of verses pro- duced on the occasion.* It must be a very indifferent Keen that is not better than any of them. Such drivel might make the Muses join in the liyperbolical prayer of Flatman, that " Kings should never die." Congreve's next play Mas "Love for Love," produced in 1695. A new play, acted on a ncM- stage, has every advantage Mhich novelty can • Those who would form a comparative estimate of the national genius, as it was exerted on similar occasions at the close of the 17th, and at the commencement of the 18th ceiiturj-, may be amused by comparing the numerous tributes to the late Princess Charlotte, with the compositions that appeared on the decease of Queen Mary. The comparison will certainly shew favourably for the present race of poets. They at least speak seriously, on a serious subject — like men who felt the holiness of death. But we are not to conclude that men do not feci at all, because they choose to express their feelings in a whimsical masecome a common place, adds greatly to the reputa- tion of an actor in an established piece. Perhaps the great success of the " IMourning Bride " might be owing, in no small measure, to astonishment, ^Mankind are always pleased to wonder for a while, though they are soon tired of wondering. A tragedy by an author of so gay and comic a turn as Congreve, was something to wonder at. IMoreover, tragedies are in general more favourably received than comedies in their first run. It is a rare thing for a serious drama to be hissed off the stage. Truly has Terence spoken it : — " Tautum majus oneris habet coraedia, quautum minus veuise." Comedy has so muc/i the more of difficulty, as it lias less of allowance. Not long after the appearance of the " IMourning Bride," Jeremy Collier* produced his celebrated strictures on the profancncsfi and • Jeremy Collier was born at Stow Qui, in Cambridgcshin-, September 23il, 1630. His father was a learned divine and linguist, and some time master of the Free School at Ipswich. His family was of Yorkshire. His educatiou was at Ipswich, and Caius College, Cambridge. He took his Master's degree in 1(J76, was ordained Deacon in 684 WILLIAM CONGREVK. itmnornlilj/ uf the Eiiglixh stage, and Coiigreve, among other and yet more grievous offenders, was severely handled for the licence of his pen. the same year, and Priest in 1677, by Dr. Heury Compton, Bishop of London, who has been mentioned as the first Bishop of noble birth after the Reformation. Collier was first domestic chaplain at Knowlc, in Kent, on the establishment of the Countess Dowager of Dorset ; then Rector of Ampton, in Suffolk, a small preferment, which he resigned after holding it about six years ; came to London, and was made Preacher at Lincoln's Inn. How far his orthodoxy allowed him to comply with James's measures we canm.t tell; certainly his loyalty did not allow him to acknowledge the Revolution Government. He became a stubborn non-juror, and a determined con- troversialist. Almost immediately after James's departure, he broke a lance with Burnet, in a pamphlet entitled " The Desertion Discussed, in a Letter to a Country Gentleman," in which he labours to prove what we hope no honest man that has glanced at the facts with half an eye will now dispute, that James's retreat was occa- sioned by a well-grounded apprehension of personal danger ; and that, therefore, he could not truly be said to have abdicated his throne. Here we thoroughly agree with honest Jeremy, whom we believe, though a perilously mistaken man, to have erred in head, not heart, and to have been an honour to that Church for which he would gladly have suffered martyrdom. That his understanding was not of the most lucid order, was in some sort to his credit, for it removes all reasonable doubt of his sincerity. His opinions being promulgated with little caution, and with none of that rhetorical artifice which utters sedition in hypothetical propositions, soon attracted the notice of a government too recently established to allow its legality to be discussed with impunity. Collier, and Newton, another non-juring clergyman, were arrested at Romney Marsh, in Kent, on suspicion of holding intercourse with the disaffected over the channel. No evidence, however, was found to convict them, and they were discharged on bail. But liberty, obtained by an implied admission of an authority which he thought usurped, was far less comfortable to Jeremy's conscience, than the durance which made him a sufferer for an exiled King. He went before the Lord Chief Justice Holt, withdrew his recognisance, and was committed to the King's Bench, but shortly after discharged freely, at the request of many friends, and perhaps by the good sense of Justice Holt, who might easily conceive, that a prisoner for conscience sake is more dangerous to a government founded on opinion than the busiest agitator at large. Neither fear nor favour, however, quieted the zealous high-churchman, who continued to pour forth pamphlets as quick as he could write them, all which are now forgotten. It was in vain that Collier was the foe of the "glorious and immortal,"— that he was, in some judgments, the martyr, in others the enemy and disturber of his church. His name would hardly have been remembered, but for his controversy with play-wrights and players. One of his proceedings, however, was so bold and singular, that it has gained him a place in that important department of history which relates to the last stage of the law. When Sir John Friend and Sir William Perkins were executed for the assassin- ation plot, Collier, together with Cook and Snatt, divines of like principles, publicly absolved and blessed the criminals on the scaffold. This, which was probably meant only to assert, by an extraordinary and overt act, the absolving power of the priest- hood, was construed into an avowed approval of assassination. Of course a prosecu tion followed. Snatt and Cook were sent to Newgate, but after a time discharged without a trial: Collier, who scrupled to give bail, abscouded, uud was outlawed, an WILLIAM CONGREVE. 685 He would liiivc doiiL' wisely had lie, like Drydeii, ;it once acen severely reprehended. If his relations were poor, he had (crtainly much better have l>cstowcd his fortune on the poor than on the wealthy. Still, it was not by inherit- ance from parents, nor l)y aid of kinsfolk, tliat lie became rich. To the great he owed his property, and to the great he returned it. He offended no rule of justice by so doing. From a rapid survey of his life and character, he seems to have been one of those indifferent cliildren of the earth " whom tlie world cannot hate ; " who are neither too good nor too bad for the present state of existence, and who may fairly expect their portion here. The darkest — at least the most enduring — stjiin on his memory, is the immorality of his writings ; but tliis was the vice of the time, and his comedies are considerably more decorous than those of his predecessors. They are too cold to he. mischievous ; they keep the brain in too incessant inaction to allow the passions to kindle. For tliose who search into the powers of intellect, the combinations of thought which may be j)roduced by volition, the plays of Congreve may forni a profitable study. But their time is Hed — on the stage they will be received no more ; and of the devotees of light reading, such as could read them without disgust woidd probably peruse them with little pleasure,* * It is reported, that in the latter part of his life he expressed much disapprobation of some ])ai't of his works. But as this disapprobation was expressed in the presence of a Uuaker, it is hard to say iiow much of it was contrition, and how much polite- ness. He left several small legacies, and £200 to Mrs. Bracegirdle, the object of his youthful gallautiy. Dr. Johnson's critique on Congreve is one of his happiest DR. lOTHERGILL. In a very entertaining little essay, prefixed, we believe, by the late Dr. Beddoes, of Bristol, to an edition of the works of John Brown, is a classification of physicians, according to the Linnrean method, — as the canting doctor, the wheedling doctor, the Adonis doctor, and the bully quack doctor ; which last genus and species is exemplified by that eminent Yorkshire worthy, and great benefactor to the University of Oxford, Dr. John Radcliffe. But we do not recollect any mention of the Quaker philanthropist doctor. Yet such a one was John Fothergill, a man m ho rather lives in the gratitude of mankind for the good that he did, than in the archives of science for the facts he discovered, the phicnomena he explained, or the theories he constructed. John Fothergill, the father of our subject, was a member of the society of Friends, and seems to have had considerable influence among liis brethren, and, like many of that public-spirited community, who make a point of conscience of whatever they engage in, a keen politi- cian. In the year 1734 he took a very active part in the contested election for Yorkshire, and in concert with Joseph Storr, wrote a circular letter to the society, lamenting that some of them had given votes inconsistent with unity and good report, and recommending to their favour Sir Rowland Winn and Cholmondeley Turner. Whether these candidates were conspicuous for opposition to the war which was then raging on the continent, or for advocacy of a general distribution of political privilege, or were distinguished from their opponents by sobriety and sanctity of demeanor, or what other claims they had to the support of the Friends, we are unable to determine. John Fothergill the elder, after travelling all over America, settled at Knaresborough as a brewer, was successful, so as to enable him to retire from business to a small farm at Carr-End, near Richmond, where his son John was born in 1712, cither on the 8th of INIarch or the 12th of October. He was the second son of his fiither. The eldest, Alexander, studied the law, and inherited the family estate. Joseph, the third, M'as an ironmonger at Stockport, in Cheshire. Samuel, the Dl{. JOHN rOTHKRGIl.L. (>{)5 youngest, went to America, anil became a celebrated Quaker jfreaclier. Anne, the only daughter, became the companion of her brother John, and survived him. John received his early education under his niateriud graiidfatlier, Thomas Houghton, a gentleman of f(»rtune in Cheshire, and afterwards at the school of Sedburgh. His classical attainments were at least respectiible, as appears from some of his medical works in Latin. As the principles in which he was educated shut him out from the English Universities, while the turn of his mind disiiulined him to the active pursuits of commerce, he chose the medical profession, the only profes- sion in which a Quaker can expect to rise, or indeed can engage, in strict accordance with the spirit of his religion. He was api)renticed to Benjamin Bartlet," surgeon and apothecary, of Bradfanl Street. He did not set up a carriage on speculation, but for some time visited liis patients on foot. ])r. Johnson lias remarked, that " an interesting hook luiglit Ijc written on the fortune of physicians." And most true it is, that pliysicians must ever depend upon fortunate accidents for tlie foundiu tion of their fame. Tlie absence of a predecessor, the successful recom- mendation of a retiring favourite, the liajipy residt of a single case, may liave opened the way to affluence, when it seemed to be closed against all concerted endeavours. It may be doubted whether the mere repu- tation of science, or the good opinion of professional brethren, are avail- able to bring a young man into notice. Some dash into celebrity by the luilikeliest means imaginable. 'Tis said that cowardice, in mere blind desperation, sometimes does the work of heroism in the field. Ignorance sometimes blunders into a cure by experiments which nothing but success could save from the imputation of manslaughter. An ugly visage, a bhuit manner, a Huency of oaths, a braggart contempt of learning, perpetual quarrels with rival practitioners, a cynical snarl- ing at every thing and every body, do occasionally succeed, especially with the poor, and the ignorant wealthy. Now and then we have known a drunken doctor have an imcommon run. Others have found their account in jacobinism or infidelity. We need not allude to quackeries more specifically professional, any further than to remark that their success is chiefly M'ith the very low, and with the very high ; M'ith those vtho have never learned to think, and those who cannot bear the trouble of thinking. The poor man listens to the hasty empiric because he finds sickness more grievous than death is terrible ; the rich, through extreme eagerness to live and enjoy, gripes at an offer of health on easier terms than established maxims warrant. Both rich and poor had rather believe the process of healing altogether unintel- ligible, than acknowledge that it is intelligible, but that they them- selves do not understand it. But even the Morthier members of the faculty. Mho refrain from quackeries of every description, require something else besides a know- ledge of diseases and remedies, to make their knowledge effectual either for their own or their patients' benefit. Of these exoteric qualifications, some are outward and visible; as a good gentlemanly j)erson, not alarmingly handsome (for the Adonis Doctor, though he has a fair opening to a wealthy marriage, seldom greatly prospers in the way of business), with an address to suit, — that is to say, a genteel self-pos- session and subdued politeness, not of the very last polish — a slow, low, and regular tone of voice (here Dr. Fothergill's Quaker habits must have been an excellent preparative), and such an even How of spirits as 700 DR. JOHN FOTIIERGILL. neither ti> Ix^ dejected by tlie sight of pain and the weight of responsi- bility, nor to offend the anxious and the suffering by an unsympathetic hihuity. The dress slioukl be neat, and rather above than below par in costliness. The distinguishing costume of the faculty has now almost totally disappeared ; the periwig has followed the furred gown, and the gold-headed cane is as much out of date as the serpent-wreathed staff of ^scalapius. This is doubtless a great relief to the professors ; for no civil luiiform is pleasant to wear, and even the military scarlet or naval blue give their wearers a painfully dazzling superiority. But the modern levelling of garments makes the streets and assemblies horridly unpicturesque, has done a serious injury to the stage, and left to every professional man (under a Bishop, or head of a house) the puzzling decision how to dress himself. Here, too. Dr. Fothergill was lucky in his religious denomination. In his earliest days the wig and ruffles were still in vogue, but he retained the simple garb of a Friend, not however so as to make its peculiarities obtrusive. In fine, the young physician should carry a something of his profes- sion in his outward man, but yet so that nobody should be able to say what it was. Some practitioners, in the ardour of their noviciate, talk of cases, dissections, and post mortem examinations, in every mixed company. This is very injudicious. Few ailing persons like to have their complaints made a general topic of discussion, however fond they may be of talking about them themselves : — Some people use their health (an ugly trick) In telling you how oft they have been sick. As Cowper saith. It is a still uglier trick to tell how often other people have been sick. Besides, it clearly proves that the narrator has a paucity both of patients and ideas. Medical students sometimes think it very knowing to discuss offensive or equivocal topics with a solemn slyness and technical diction, shewing themselves abundantly satisfied with their superiority to the M'eak-stom ached superstition of delicacy. This is by no means commendable at any age, but after twenty is intolerable. All slang, and knowingness, and slyness should, and generally will, exclude a young practioner from every respectable family. But, far more than all definable proprieties of demeanor, the effects of which are chiefly negative, there are certain inward gifts, more akin to genius than to talent — to intuition than to rationation — which make the physician prosper, and deserve to ])rosper. Medicine is not, like practical geometry, or the doctrine of projectiles, an application of an abstract, demonstrable science, in which a certain result niay be drawn from certain data, or in which the disturbing forces can be calculated Dli. JOHN FOTHLRcaLL. 701 with an approximation to exactness. It is a tentative art, t(j succeed in wliicli (leniands a quickness of eye, tact, thought, and invention, which are not tti he h'anied by study, nor without a connatural aptitude, to he ac(piired by experience. And it is the possession of this sense, exercised by patient observation, and fi^rtiried with a just reliance on the vis mcdicatrix, the self-adjusting tendency of nature, that consti- tutes tlic physician, as imagination constitutes the pcx-'t, and brings it to pass, that sometimes au old apothecary, not very far removed from an old ivoman, mIiosc ordinary conversation partakes largely of the character of twaddle, who can seldom give any rational account of a case or prescription, ac(piires a reputation of infallil>iiity, as if he had made a truce M'ith death, — while men of talent and erudition arc admired and neglected, The truth is, that there is a good deal of the mysterious in whatever is practical. It is not only in the concerns of the spirit that man Malks by faith. Wherever there is life there is a mystery. But neither genius nor science will avail the physician, if he M'ant confidence in himself, and cannot create a confidence in others. He must also, by persuasion or authority, obtain a mastery over his jjatients, and over all about them. The occasional success of hidhjing doctors arises from the fear they inspire, which enforces a strict observation of their directions. A medical man stands in the situation of a father confessor. He has to extract truth from reluctant penitents ; he has to inflict severe penance on peccant nature. But to this end, the sarcastic coarseness of a bully is far less eflfectual than the mild firm- ness of a Quaker. Some have ascribed the success of Dr. Fothergill to tlie novelty of a Quaker doctor. But this was, in fact, nothing new. There were two physicians of the same })ersuasion practising in London at the commencement of his career. Nor was his rise by any means sudden. He sought no sinister paths to popularity. His beneficence, great as it was, was never speculative. He proj)ortioned his givings to his earnings. Without any remarkable brilliancy of talent, without any striking originality of practice, he gained the confidence of those who needed his assistance, chiefly by convincing them that he wished to do them good for their own sakes. The medical profession, in respect of tlie spirit in which they pursue their occupation, ma\' be divided into four classes, corresponding to four classes of clericid teachers : 1st, Those m ho have been put into the profession, or chosen it at random, because they nuist be sonietliing — iounffers who feel their business a toil and a constraint, who at best only desire to escape disgrace and make a living — correlative to the gentle- men in orders, and the drudging curates, — a \ei-y unprolitable race 702 DR. JOHN FOTHERGILL. when geiitlenioii, a very mihappy and niischievnus t>ue wlion otherwise. 2d. Tliose who pursue their trade eagerly and diligently for money or advancement — correspondent to the preferment hunters of the cliurch, and tlie popular preachers and Tartiiffes of all denominations, who will generally be respectable, or other\vise, as their rank and connections give them more or less of character to lose. 3d. The votaries of science, to whom knowledge is an ultimate object, and practice chiefly valued as the means of increasing and certifying knowledge — correspondent to the speculative theologians — the students of religious learning — a class highly estimable and necessary, who answer their vocation well, and dignify their rank, whatever it may be : and 4th, The philanthropists, to whom knowledge is only a secondary object, valued as it is the means of a])ating pain and preserving life — correlative to those christian teachers and pastors who are animated with the true and faithful love of souls. Among these, it is delightful to find men of all ranks — but rank with them is nothing: these are illuminated with a light, in which there may be many colours, but there is no darkness. To this class did Fothergill belong. Yet he, too, was a lover of knowledge for its own sake : a careful investigator of nature, whether she displayed herself in the marvellous human frame, or in the multitudinous vari- eties of ])lants, shells, minerals : — glad, when he could, to discover a use in her works, and glad at all times to acknowledge them the works of God. " The uniformity of a professional life," says one of Dr. Fothergill's biographers, " is seldom interrupted : it therefore furnishes few par- ticulars worthy of being recorded. The transactions of one day seldom differ from those of another. In Dr. Fothergill's case, perhaps, there was as little variety as ever fell to the share of any one man. His popularity continued vnidiminished as long as his health and strength would allow him to attend on his patients ; and during a long series of years his diligence was unabated." This is in some measure true. Yet if the circumstances of a pro- fessional life make but a dull biography, they might furnish very interesting auto-biographies. Every day adds something to their knowledge of mankind. They behold human nature as it were stripped and whipped. It would be truly delightful to read the private minutes of a leech like Fothergill, whose eyes were purged by the euphrasy of benevolence, and to trace the steps, the ramifications of practice, by which he advanced from comparative o])scurity to eminence. But no such precious records have fallen under our cognizance. In 1744, Dr. Fothergill was admitted a licentiate of the College of Physicians at London, and about the same time was chosen a memljer DR. JOHN FOTHF.RrjILL. 703 of the Royal Society, tlicn llourisliiiig under the aiJSi)i<'es ..f INIartiii Folkes.* Tliis proves that he liad already distinguished himself by studies not strictly jtrofessional. He was a fre<|uent contrihutle to suppose, 2. That the cause of this tendency is a putrid virus, or miasma sui generis, introduced into the habit by contagion, principally by means of the breath of the person affected. 3. That this virus, or contagious matter, produces effects more or • Contrayen-a is a South American plant, introduced into Europe by Sir Francis Drake, in I08I. The name signifies cw/«/c/--/)o/wh ; its juice is strong poison, and was formerly used by the Peruvians to envenom their arrows. It was formerly esteemed a most powerful antidote and preservative ; but its reputation has fallen off, and it is used only as a pentle stimulant. There is another sort, produced in Virginia, called Serpentari^i, from its supposed ciTicacy against the bites of serpents. It is very aromatic, and by some accounted equal to the Pemnau contrayer\a. — Hees^ Cyclopcedin . 4u 706 DR- JOHN FOTHERGILL. less pernicious, accortling to the quantity and nature of the infection, and as the subject is disposed to receive or suffer by it. 4. That putrefactive and malignant diseases in common admit of the most sensible and secure relief from discharges of the peccant matter, either upon the skin in general, or on particular parts of the body. 5. That the redness and cutaneous effervescence in the present case may be considered as an eruption of like nature, and therefore to be promoted by such methods as have proved successful in similar diseaseSk , 6. That a cordial, alexipharmic, warm regimen has been found by experience to be of the most use in such cases ; and that bleeding, purging, and antiphlogistics, liberally employed, either retard or wholly prevent these discharges. Therefore, as to expel the morbific matter seems to be the design of nature, to promote this design by the methods that are approved by experience in similar cases, is the duty of the ])hysician. This treatise was highly approved, and went through many editions. It is but fair to state, that Dr. Fothergill's merit in regard to this dis- order was not that of an original discoverer, but that he owed much to the comminiications of Drs. Leatherlaud and Sylvester, — especially to the former, who with singular modesty or generosity forbad his name to be mentioned in the work. We have entered somewhat largely into the sid)ject of this essay, because the hopes of parents are perhaps more frequently and more cruelly cut off by diseases of the throat, than by any other cause. That murderous affection, the croop, which suffocates many a sweet infant, does not appear to have been much known half a century ago. The rise, abatement, and disappearance of diseases is a curious phenomenon in the history of nature. Is there any work extant on medical chro- nology ? In 17''53, Dr. Fothergill was chosen a member of the Antiquarian Society ; and in 17«'>4, a Fellow of the College of Physicians at Edin- burgh. He was also one of the earliest members of the American Philosophical Society, instituted at Philadelphia; and in 1776, when a medical society was founded at Paris by the King of France, he was one of a select number of foreign physicians whom the society thought proper to honour with their diploma. Neither increasing wealth nor spreading fame ever alienated him from the body of christians from whom he sprung, and among whom he had been brought up. The society of Friends looked with affectionate esteem, and it may be with excusable pride, on their famous doctor ; and he took a lively interest in whatever concerned the discipline and economy of their church. He was frequently emi)loyed by the meeting DR. JOHN FOTHERGILL. 707 to « liicli li(> belonged, to compose tlie anmiul letter to the Friends at their great Whitsuntide council. He also drew up the congratulatory address of his In-ethren on the accession of George the Third, in which lie expressed himself like a man nf this world. Really liberal, in the l)est and only true sense of the world, he valued the outwaril insignia of his religious connection as tliey were the means of strengthening the bands of union ; but he did not think it necessary to obtrude peculiar- ities of s|>cech or opinion in his dealings with those who were without the pale. Though mild by nature, and pacific from ])riricttcr account than is contained in the preface to the '"Essay on the Character of Alexander Russell," which is as follows: — " A few years ago it was reported that the College of Physicians in London had it under consideration to admit persons desirous of prac- tising physic, as Licentiates, upon an examination in English. This was done, as it was suj)posed, to introduce into this rank men of little or no education, in order to depreciate the characters of many who were in some esteem with the pidjlic. "An attempt of this nature could not but alarm those who M'erc immediately to be affected by it, and who felt the designed indignity. Several of these met together, compared the accounts they had received, and found there was too much truth in the reports, to suffer them any longer to remain inattentive to designs so prejudicial. It was resolved to call the Licentiates in general together, to acquaint them with their situation, and to act in concert for their general safety. But this Mas not all ; those who had embarked in this affair had at heart not only the honour of their profession, but its public utility ; not only to eman- cipate themselves from an authority which appeared to them in the light of a usurpation, but to establish the faculty upon a solid and liberal foundation. How far their endeavours may succeed is uncer- tain. But of one thing they are sure : they promote harmony among themselves ; excite to an honourable emulation ; and whatever may be their fate, will give proof, by the rectitude of their conduct, and an exertion of their abilities, that they are not unworthy of the highest honours of their profession." Should the question be considered according to modern maxims, it is 708 J^f^- JOHN fOTHERGlLL. probable that more would be found to approve the design of the College, in throwing oj>en the gates of the profession to such as could shew the requisite professional knowledge in their own tongue, rather than the jealousy of the Licentiates, who were for shutting out all vho could not give the pass-word in Latin. The University of Edinburgh have lately made a similar concession to the spirit of the time ; and though the measure may probably make certain Fluellens, who stickle for the primitive discipline, the " Roman Disciplines," shake their heads, and sigh out a " Fuimus Troes," we do not hear that the College is suspected of an intention to swamp the profession. But it is probable that the Licentiates, uneasy under the invidious distinctions of the Fellows, caught eagerly at the first departure from established custom, to revolt against a superiority which had nothing but custom to rest upon. There were serious thoughts of bringing the matter to a legal decision, and Dr. Fothergill subscribed £500 for the purpose. No trial, however, took place ; but the union of the Licentiates assumed a purely literary and scientific character, and continued to assemble once a month, for the sake of reading medical papers, and conversing on the prevailing diseases, and other subjects of professional interest. On the death of Sir William Duncan, Bart. Dr. Fothergill was unanimously elected President of this meeting, and so continued to the time of his death. After the fashion of the French Academic, the deceased mem- bers were honoured with panegjn-ical orations. The " Essay on the Character of the late Alexander Russel " was spoken on one of these occasions. No man can expect to pass through this world in perfect quiet. Fothergill, though his life Mas on the main a life of tranquility, was for a short time disagreeably embroiled with a man of his own per- suasion, whom the Friends had been the principal means of bringing into notice. About the year 1766 flourished one Samuel Leeds, by education a brush-maker, by transmutation (of the Edinburgh College) an ]\I. D. and by present profession Physician of the London Hospital, an appointment which he owed to the recommendation of some eminent Quakers. Fothergill, in a conversation on Doctor Leeds' rise in the M'orld, said ominously, " Take care that he does no mischief." Leeds soon betrayed so much ignorance, that the Governors of the Hospital, to remedy their past precipitancy, passed a resolution, " that no phy- sician should continue to officiate in that Hospital who had not imder- gone an examination at the College of Physicians." Leeds, unwilling to resign his emoluments, made the experiment, and was plucked. In his anger and disappointment he heard of the boding speech of Dr. Fothergill, and cither thought, or pretended to think, that the rosolu- I)K. JOHN FOTHERGILL. 709 tion of tlic Iluspital, wliicli li;ul subjected liini to the disgrace of rejection, had been caused by it. He accordingly made it the ground of complaint before the Society. " These inoffensive people, who are averse to the litigictus ])roceedings that vex and ruin so many of their fellow citizens, referred the charge, after their manner, to a certain number of arbitrators. Five persons were api)()inted for this purpose, and tliree of the number awarded i^ilOO damages to Dr. Leeds, after refusing to hear Dr. Fothergill's principal evidence. The two otlier arbitrators, with great propriety, protested against the award ; and after mudi altercation in the Society, Dr. Leeds moved the Court of King's Bench to shew cause wliy the rule for the recovery of the damages should be made absolute. Lord IManstield, after hearing the evidence and counsel on the part of Dr. Leeds, refused to hear Dr. Fothergill's counsel ; because, he observed, the evidence on the part of Dr. Leeds's arbitrators was sufficient to prove the illegality and injustice of tlieir own award : the learned and noble judge further added, that Dr. Fotliergill did no more than liis duty in saying what he was charged with ; and that he would not have acted as an honest man if he had said less." In fine. Dr. Leeds retreated to the sphere of a simple apothecary, and settled at Ipswich. With tliese exceptions, Dr. Fotliergill was seldom or never engaged in conflict or controversy with his brethren of the healing craft. He was, on the other hand, a liberal auxiliary to those \»ho needed recom- mendation and protection, and was so far from feeling jealousy at the appearance of a rival in physic of his own religious persuasion, that Dr. Chorley, a young Quaker physician, was admitted into his house as an inmate, and introduced to a considerable practice : he might, indeed, have inherited the whole connection of his patron had he survived him, but his course was cut short, and he died under Dr. Fothergill's roof. It is probable that Fotliergill was on terms of intimacy with Dr. Blead ; for in the Philosophical Transactions, No. 487, is a tract, in excellent Latin, addressed by our author to the Doctor, then Vice- President of the Royal Society.'* The subject is a case of ruptured * De Dlaphragmate fisso, et mutatis quoriindam Yiscerum Scdibus, in Cadavere Puellae decern mensiinn obserratis, Epislohi Kiclinrdo Mead. A learned wit once told a larjjc assembly of medical gentlemen that they had no excuse for writing bad Latin, when they might find so much good in Celsus. Celsus is, indeed, an excellent writer, and might be read with great advantage by all who wish to learn Latin in earnest, as a model of didactic prose. But Celsus will not supply phrases for all the occasions of modern medicine; and, moreover, a physician who makes the history of his profession his study, must have so much to do with barbarous Latin, that it is a wonder if his own escape infection. 710 I>R- JOHN FOTHERGILL. diaphragm occm-ring in a female infant of ten montlis old ; but it is singular enough, that Fothergill expresses himself in the Latin tongue with a picturesque force, a vividness, an eloquent ardour, which he never ventures upon in his English compositions. As his years and his wealth increased, he thought himself entitled to occasional respites from the ])ress of his vocation, and to indulge those tastes which pointed out his natural recreations. He left liis house in the city, and liegan to reside in Harpur Street, near Loon Square, which continued to be his town abode till his death. In 1672 he purchased a ])leasant retreat near Upton, in Essex, to which he used to retire at the end of the week, and employed himself in laying out and cidtivating one of the first botanic gardens in Europe. The hot-houses and green-houses extended 200 feet, all covered with glass. Whatever plant had obtained a place in the JNLiteria INIedica, or pro- mised to be of service in physic or manufactures, or was any way remarliable for its rarity, beauty, or physiological habits, was sought out and purchased without regard to expense, and no pains were spared in the culture. Dr. Fothergill entertained a hope that the medicinal plants of the East might, in general, be successfully cultivated in the British Settlements of North America, or in the West India Islands, and by that means an unadulterated article be provided for the Euro- pean market, a result hardly to be expected till the world grows honest,, At that time even the learned of Europe Avere but imperfectly informed respecting the origin and preparation of many imported commodities. Long as musk has been celebrated both as a perfume and as a remedy, it is only of late years that there has been any accurate descri])tion of the animal producing it ; and of the drug-producing plants, few had been described with such accuracy as to enable a botanist to recognize them. Even yet, the enlightened English have but vague notions of tlie trees which furnish the fancy woods in their cabinets, the shrubs To write pure and elegant Latin even in an academic exercise, the highest object of which is to accommodate old words to new meanings, is by no means a common accomplishment; but when you really have anything to say, you must be a very good scholar, and a man of strong sense and some imagination, if you can say it naturally in Latin. Latin is now, in England at least, bona fide a dead language; it is no longer an organ of thought, or of vital communication ; and the efforts of those who attempt to talk or compose in it, are like those of the worker in Mosaic, who would make an inanimated collection of fragments imitate life. But it should be remembered, that the period of its decease has been antedated many a century. The Latin of the middle ages was to all intents and purposes a living language. It was the medium by which the learned thought : it was the vehicle of religion and science : it made one nation of western Christendom. DR. JOHN FOTIIERGILL. 7II which contribute to the hixiiry of their tables, or supply the "juleps and catliolians " m hitJi the consequences of luxury make necessary. Botany, we have already mentioned, was Dr. F(ither<^iirs favourite relaxation ; and in roj^ard to his ])rofossional researches, his attention was particularly turned to the iMateria IMedica. He was at great pains to procure accounts of the Cortex Winteranus,* and of the tree that produces the Terra Japonica (catechu). He had correspondents in all parts of the world, who were continually furnishing him with new plants, shells, and insects. But his great assistant and congenial friend in his investigations of nature, Mas that honour to Westmorland, Peter Collinson.t From 17ol to 175<^^ ''« ^*as a constant correspondent to * The original discovery of the Cortex Winteranus, or ^^^nter's Rark, was a col- lateral consequence of Sir Francis Drake's voyage. Captain John Winter, who sailed with Sir Francis in the year 1577, as commander of the Elizabeth, destined for the South Seas, but after entering the Streights or Magellan, stress of weather obliged him to put back, and on some part of the coast of the Strcight he collected a (piantity of an aromatic and medicinal bark, which Clarias named after him, Cortex Winter- anus. Though the trees producing it were noticed by many succeeding voyagers to those parts, as Van Nort in 1600, and Handasyd in 1691, yet the bark was frequently confounded with the Canclla alba of the West Indies, and the black Ciimamon of Virginia. (See the account of Amada and Barlow's discovery of Virginia, in Mack- luyt, vol. 3, p. 246.) Captain Wallis, in 1768, gathered a quantity of the true Cortex Winteranus; and Dr. Solander and Sir Joseph Banks, in the following year, drew up the first correct botanical account of the tree, which they found on the Streight le Maire, and in Tierra del Fuego. It is a large forest tree, sometimes exceeding fifty feet in height Its outward bark is on the trunk grey, and very little wrinkled ; on the branches quite smooth and green. By the accounts of Captain Wallis, and the minute botanical description of Dr. Solander, it must be very beautiful; the branches curving upwards so as to form an elegant oval head, the leaves large, eliptical, evergreen, of a dark, shining, laurcl-likc verdure above, and a pale bluish colour underneath ; the flowers small, white, and delicate, but evanescent. Captain ^'uUis made an unsuccessful attempt to propagate it in the Falkland Isles. When first discovered, the bark was celebrated as an antiscorbutic, but it does not appear to have kept its place in the pharmacoprca. It is astringent, aromatic, with something of a cinnamon flavour, but much Icsa pnlatuhlc. f Peter CoUinson was of an ancient and honourable Westmorland family, a stock still growing in that land of lakes, from which, ni Jailor, sprung the late Septimus Collinson, Provost of Queen's College, Oxon, and Margaret Professor of Divinity. Peter, who was born in the parish of Stavelev, hard by the " river-lake Winauder," while yet a boy, discovered the passion of a naturalist. Tlic wonderful economy of nature in the metamorphoses of insects, strongly attracted his juvenile attention; and it was his recreation, his play, to hunt for those minute animals, ^o marvtlKius in their conformations, and in some instances so human in their areliitecture and tlieir civil polity, so more than human in their prophetic instincts. iS'or was he less curious in examining the varieties of \ igi'table life: though his commercial occupation carried him young to London, he found opportunities to cull and arrange the plants which 712 DR. JOHN FOTHERGILL. the Gentleman's Magazine. His contributions were chiefly on the weather, and diseases, and were designed to induce other physicians to grow in the vicinity of the metropolis ; he found access to the best gardens, and early began to form a hortus siccus. As he grew up, he entered into a partnership with his brother James, " in a business that did not always require their presence together. They lived in great harmony, and reciprocally afforded to each other opportunities for their respective pursuits. Both, however, had a strong relish for horticulture and planting, and both had acquired a just conception of riiral elegance." Congeniality of pursuits, and manners peculiarly pleasing, soon made him the friend of Derham, Dale, Woodward, Sir Haus Sloane, and others, whose enthusiastic devotion to natural knowledge excited the ridicule of Pope, Swift, and the rest of the Scriblems club, only to prove how impotent is all wit against sincere goodness and true philosophy. In fact, the ill effects of satire have been as much exaggerated as its moral benefits. Satire on virtue or on knowledge never diminished the number of the virtuous or of the learned j at worst, it only flatters the self-complacency of the vicious and the ignorant. Whom has the " Tale of a Tub " either cured of fanaticism or alienated from piety ? Who ever renounced mathematics or natural philosophy, in apprehension of being taken for a Laputan ? Peter Collinson was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society in 1728, and proved a most useful member, not only by the information he contributed from his personal stock to the general fund,but by his extensive correspondence. HLs mercantile affairs being connected much with foreigners, he turned this necessary intercourse to the benefit of science. To him Franklin communicated his earliest discoveries in electricity. As much of his commercial engagements were with America, he kept up a constant epistolary Intercourse with the colonies, and felt a peculiar anxiety for their welfare. From a letter addressed by Franklin to Michael Collinson, Esq. it appears " that in 17.30, a subscription library being set afoot in Philadelphia, he encouraged the design by making several very valuable presents to it, and procuring others from his friends; and as the Library Company had a considerable sum arising annually, to be laid out in books, and needed a judicious friend in London to transact the business for them, he voluntarily and cheerfully undertook that service, and executed it for more than thirty years successively, assisting in the choice of books, and taking the whole care of collecting and shipping them, without ever charging or accepting any consideration for his trouble. The success of this library," continues Franklin, " (greatly owing to his countenance and good advice), encouraged the erecting others in different places on the same plan, and it is supposed that there are now upwards of thirty subsisting in the several colonies, which have contributed greatly to the spreading of useful knowledge in that part of the world; the books he recommended being all of that kind, and the catalogue of this first library being much respected and followed by those libraries that succeeded. During the same time he transmitted to the directors of the library the earliest accounts of every new European improvement in agriculture and in the arts, and every philosophical discovery; among which, in 174.'5, he sent over an account of the new German experiments in electricity, together with a glass tube, and some directions for using it, so as to repeat those experiments. This was the Jirst notice I had of that curicnis subject, which I aftcnvards prosecuted ivith some diligence." Thus it was to Collinsou's suggestions that the modern science of electri- city in some measure is indebted for its origin. For the Americans he appears to have felt a singular affection. He was never Dk. juiis roTiiiiKcii.i,. 713 supply the like niateriuls fur INk'tc'drcdoj^iciil aiul Nosological History. Fin(liri<^ that his example had not the intended effect, he discontinued his coniniunications, on these heads at least; hut he was a frequent writer in puhlic papers on suhjects of |)ul)lic utilitv, lendinjj his pen to the aid of every inipro\enient and every good work. It is said, that his pa})ers of this kind, if collected. Mould fill many volumes. lie wrote upwards of a hundred letters to the Gazetteer on the new pavement. He was one of those happy men, who arc interested about every thing, and anxious about nothing. He was somewhat of a projector, and spared not words or money to j)romote what he esteemed beneficial. But, content with the ample incftme which his practice afforded, he never speculated in improvement, therefore liis donatiuns never impo, verished him. Many anecdotes of liis beneficence remain, but three must suffice in this place. The object of the first was a poor clergyman, a class who, considering the rank they are exjiccted to support, the expense of their education, iuid the wealth of their more opulent brethren, which operates as a direct tax upon the laborious and slenderly-provided, may be called the poorest of the poor. This door-keeper of the Temple weary of giving tlieni pood advice. Did he regard them as his ftllow Englishmen, or did he foresee that they were to become a great and rival nation ? He constantly urged the Virginians, in particular, to make a better use of their soil, " to bethinlt themselves in time of a more permanent staple than a plant whose consumption only depends on custom and caprice, and this custom daily declining." His suggestion would at least beautify their countiy. " Vines," said he, " will thrive well in your country; but imitate nature in their cultivation; dou't keep them close to the ground, as we are forced to do in this and other northern European climates, for the sake of a little sun and heat to ripen the grape; your summer heats exceed, as much as ours fall short ; allow them, therefore, longer stems, let them he trained to, and supported by trees, and hide their fruit among the foliage, as in the warmer countries of Europe." From the picturesque eye which he evinced in this and other short touches, and from his enamoured attachment to plants, we doubt not that Peter Collinsou, had he pos- sessed or acquired the accomplishment of verse, might have written a verj' respectable Georgic. Gardening, indeed, was his hobby. He had correspondents in all parts of Europe, in America, in Asia, even at Pekin, and they all sought to oblige him by presents of rare seeds. Had he been a mouarch, a present of seeds would have pur- chased his alliance. Having arrived at his 75lh year with little sickness, barring an occasional attack of gout, he died of a painful malady frequently incident to old age, at the seat of Lord Petre, in Essex, on the llth of August, 1768. Inclosed in his will was found a paper, importing, " that he hoped he should leave behind him a pood name, which he valued more than riches: that he had tiideavoured not to live uselessly; and that all his days, he constantly aimed to be a friend to mankiud." A very minute life of Collinsou is in Kippis's Biopraphia Britannica, a work which ouoht not to have concluded at the .'ith volume. 4 X 714 I^R. lOHN FOTHERGILL. (lioM- nmch l)ettei'' off is a college porter !) was seated in London on a curacy of fifty pounds per anniun, with a M'ife and a numerous family. An epidemical disease, wliicli Mas at that time prevalent, seized upon his wife and five of his children : in this scene of distress he looked towards Fothergill — perhaps the sick matron lierself put faith in him — but how was the fee to be raised ? Every guinea had already to perform the work of two, and a poor curate with a large family has no liopes in contingency. The turns of the market, the increase of busi- ness, peace or war — nothing promises him anything. Very possibly this curate may have had a patron once (the only lever that can raise a clnu-chman from the dust), but many a man, somewhat above legal pauperism, has given deadly offence by having a large family. In general, patrons are lost by nothing so hopelessly as by an imprudent marriage, an offence which parents, who alone have a right to be angry, are for the most part the readiest to forgive. Yet, if the poor London curate had no patron, he had a friend, who lent him a guinea, and introduced him to Dr. Fothergill. They attended at the usual hour of audience, gave an account of tlie several cases, and after some consult- ation offered the fee, which was rejected ; but a note was taken of the clergyman's residence. The Doctor called assiduously the next and every succeeding day, till his attendance became unnecessary. The curate anxious to display his gratitude, or perhaps thinking that his cloth was stained by a debt to a schismatic, pinched or starved up a sum, which he proffered to the Doctor, with many apologies for his inability to do more. Fothergill put it back gently, and at the same time slid ten guineas into the curate's hand, bidding him to remember where he had a friend in case of future need. It is agreeable to record that the poor clergyman afterwards attained church preferment to the value of one hundred pounds a year, a hungry stipend enough for the servant of an aristocratic church, but still twice as good as fifty. This M'as a kind act of the doctor, but we believe such kindnesses of the medical profession to be by no means rare. Seeing much of that distress which would fain hide itself, and which should therefore be relieved in secret, they perform many good deeds which others do not, not from disinclination to well-doing, but because the occasions do not cross their path. And few indeed are those who will hunt misery out of its lurking places into the light of consolation. Perhaps this anecdote has been repeated the oftener on account of the sectarian relations of the parties as Quaker and Parsons. The scene would make an excellent suVtject for a good lumioured humorous painting. * Could the curate in the midst of his gratitude forbear discontented reflections on the disproportionate regard of men for their souls and for nit. JOHN i:(ri iii:i:<.ii,i„ 715 their bodies, iis cxeinpIiHod in the Monlly condition of the Lcocli and of the Pastor. * • The miseries of the inferior cleriEty, (a phrase wliich we lujpe is, or will be banished from all good society) are not now what they were when they fiiniishcd conversation to Parson Adams at the country inn : but there are still numbers, who, if above penury, are not above care. This is the jxiiiit to which the eninlunu-nts of a christian minister should always be raised, and which they never need surmount. The pictures of poverty and wretchedness drawn by some writers on the church in the earlier ages of protestauism almost exceed belief, and yet they must have been matters of public notoriety, if true. Thus discourseth old Thomas Drant in his famous Spittle Sermon: " Howbeit, I am not ignorant how many a poor minister of these times is like Elizas. {Elislna, See 2 Kings, civ. verse 10.) He had not pen, nor ink, nor table, nor candlestick, but as his hosts allowed him ; and these poor Ood's men must be helped by their host or hosts, or one friend or another, with coat and cap, and cup and candle, and study and table, or else they shall be harbourless and helpless, and needs must I further yet say, that in many a poor scholar in the univer- sities, Christ himself is full of hunger and necessity. These be the noble sons of the prophets, and most apt of all others to be the builders of God's temple ; yet have I seen many a good wit many a long day kept low and lean, or to be made broken with hunger and abject with poverty- I do not know theliberality of //(/.s-c//// towards both these places, only this 1 can say, that less than the tenth part of that which is nothing but surfeit and sickness to the great excessive eaters of this town, would cherish and cheer up hungrj' and thirsty Christ in those his hunger starved members right well." Some iu this age will be surprised, if not otfended at the boldness with which this old divine appropriates to the clergy of his own church the declaration of the Saviour — " I was hungry and ye gave me no meat, I was thirsty and ye gave me no drink," and " inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of those, ye did it not to me." And still more at his imputing to the glorified Lord au instinct state of extenuation and inanition. His reproaching the city for gluttony is less remarkable, though few modern clergy would have been so very plain in the presence of the civic authorities, or so coursely graphic in his delineations. " Lord here is the rich glutton to be seen up and down and round about the town. Their horses chew and sper upon gold and silver, and their mules go under rich velvet. Dogs are dear unto them, and feed much daintily. Here is scarcely anything in the upper sort, but many a foolish Nabal scruping and scoutching, eating and drinking, and suddenly and unworthily dying. The eyes of Judah are said to be red with drinking, but much of this people have their faces fire red with continual quaftlng and carousing. Sodom and Comorrah were said to be full of bread, but these Londoners are more than full, for they are even bursten with banquet- ting, and sore and sick with surfeiting. Lord, thou whistlest to them and they hear thee not ; thou sendest thy plague among them, and they mind thee not. I ord, we are lean; Lord, we are faint; Lord, we are miserable; Lord, we are thy members. Lord, therefore, thou art loan ; Lord, thou art faint; Lord, thou art miserable ! I " The sermon from which this extract is taken was preached about 1569. Drant was the first metrical translator of Horace in the English language. Refined Critics have pretended to be much olfendod with the tragicomedy of the stage. Mhat would they say to the tragi-comedy of the pulpit, and yet there is in many ancient discourses such an incongruous mixture of sublimity. The quaintness of the pulpit was gradually reformed, but the poverty of the country parsons, aiul we might add, of the city parsous also, Kmg continued to be complained 716 i>K- JOHN FOTHERGILL. Yet Fothcrgill had calls upon his benevolence from the less favoured members of his own calling ; among these was Dr. Gowin Knight, a man of learning and merit, but whether, like Arbuthnot, he Knew his art but not his trade, or whether the course of events was adverse beyond his skill to reconcile, of. The treatise ascribed to Exchard, and entitled " The grounds and occasions of the Contempt of the Clergy inquired into," published in 1670, paints the condition of a small beueficed clergyman, as little superior to that of Hogarth's " Distressed Poet." The chief of his thoughts and his main business must be to study how to live that week; how he shall have bread for his family; whose sow has lately pigged; when will come the next rejoicing goose, or the uext cheerful basket of apples ? How far to Lammas or offerings ? When shall we have another christening, and who is likely to maiTj- or die ? These are very reasonable considerations, and worthy a man's thoughts, for a family cannot be maintained by texts and contexts, and the child that lies crying iu the cradle, will not be satisfied without a little milk, and perhaps sugar. " But suppose he does get into a little hole over the oven, with a lock to it, called a study, towards the latter end of the week, one may very near guess what is his first thought when he comes there: viz. that the last kilderkin of drink is near departed ; and that he has but one poor single groat in the house, and there is judgment and execution ready to come out against it, for butter and eggs. Now sir, can any one thiuk that a man thus racked aud tortured, cau be seriously intent half an hour to continue anything that might be of real advantage to his people ? Beside, perhaps that week he has met with some dismal crosses, aud most undoing misfortunes. There was a scurvy couditioued scrole that broke his pasture, and ploughed up the best part of his glebe: aud a little after that came a couple of spiteful ill-favoured crows, and trampled down the little remaining grass. Another day, having but four chickens, sweep comes the kite, and carries away the fattest and hopefullest of all the brood. Then, after all this comes the jack-daws and starlings, idle birds they are, and they scattered and carried away from his thin thatched house forty or fifty of the best straws, and to make him completely unhappy, after all these aflaic- tions, another day that he had a pair of breeches on, he suffered very much in care- fully lifting over his leg. But we'll grant that he meets not with any of these such frightful disorders, but that he goes into his study with a mind as calm as the evening: for all that, upon Sunday, we must be content even with what God shall please to send us. For. as for book=, he is for want of money so moderately furnished, that except it be a a small Geneva Bible, so small as it will not be desired to lie open of itself, together with small concordance thereunto belonging, as also a book for all kinds of Latin sentences, called Polyantheoe, with some exposition upon the Catechism, (a portion of which is to begot by heart, aud to be put off for his own), and perhaps il/r. Caryl upon Phi€da,MT. Dodd upon the Commandments, and Mr. Clarke's Lives of Famous Men, such as Mr. Carter of Norwich that used to eat such abundance of pudden ; besides, I say, there is scarce any thing to be found but a budget of old stitched sermons hung up behind the door, with a few broken girts, two or three yards of whipcord, and perhaps a hammer and saw to prevent delapidations." Allowing for the strain of burlesque and exaggeration which pervades this glaring description of the cases and comforts of a small vicar in the seventeenth century, these passages exhibit a degree of misery which we should ha\ e hoped had never existed in a church so often reproached with its exhorbitaut riches. DK. JOHN lUllILKCJiLL. 7I7 he was weighed down with poverty and einbarrassiiient, and knew not how to l)elp himself; he turned to Fotliergill with a lieavy heart and timid asking eye, exj)ecting no more than the means to ward off a ])res- sing assault of penury, an importunate and threatening dun, or an okl aud merciful creditor as poor as himself, or it may be, he was at a Joss for the morrow's meal. We do not correctly rememl>er whether he made any direct aj)plieation to Fothergill or not, but however the doctor understood his need, talked cheerfully to him, and iu fine, gave him a piece of paper, which he ])robably supjxjsed to be a five pound note, but which turned out to be a check for £1000. In what a new state of exis- tence, M'hat a renovation of youth and hope must this poor man haie felt at that moment. But Fothergill was not only beneficent, he was munificent. In his charity he had i-egard chierty to necessity ; and as necessity is rarely to be found in that fold of Christians of which he was a member his donations were freely given to the needy of all denominations. But the remarkable instances of miutijiccnce which «'e are about to mention had a more especial reference to the interest of the Society of F'riends. These were, his patronage of Anthony Parver, and the part he took in the foundation and endowment of Ackworth School. Anthony Par\er was a Quaker, poorer and less educated than most of his brethren, by trade a shoe maker. Can any one assign a reason why so many shoe makers have become eminent for their genius or their enthusiasm ? The employment is still, often solitary, and allows a man to be meditative. Anthony Parver as he worked with his awl, was over-mastered with an idea that he was called and commanded to translate the Scriptures. His faith attributed the impulse, whose origin he could not trace in his own will, or in the concatenation of his human thoughts, to the Divine Spirit. But if he was an enthusiast, he was an enthusiast of much sanity; for he sought the accomplishment of his end by the necessary means, and did not I)egin to translate till he had mastered the original tongues. We know not what ;issistance he received in this great inidertaking, which Mas commenced when he had long outlived the years of jjhysical dncility ; but if it be true, as stated, that he began with the Hebrew first (and it was the natural course to occur to his mind), lie must have had some, for there was then no Hebrew and English lexicon or grammar. However he did acquire a competent knowledge of the Hebrew, Chaldce, and Svriiic. He after- M'ards learned Greek, aad Latin last of all. But still he could not have accomplished his purjmse without pecuniary aid, and that aid was liberally afforded by Dr. Fothergill, at wlmse sole expense, Parver'?* Translation of the Old and New Testaments, with notes critical and 71fi DR. JOHN FOTHKRGILL. explanatory, in two volumes folio, was printed, and ap])eared in IJGii. The cost of the work is stated at not less than £200. A short account of this extraordinary effort of faith and perseverance may be found in Southey's Omniana. It is said to be remarkable for a close adherance to the Hebrew idiom. It has not apparently attracted as much notice amonff biblical scholars as the curiosity, to say no more, of its production would seem to challenge. We never saw it l)ut once, and that was in the library of a Friend* We doubt, indeed, whether any new trans- lation, however learned, exact, or tnily orthodox, will ever appear to English Christians to be the real Bible. The language of the authorized version is the perfection of English, and it can never be written again, for the language of prose is one of the few things in which the English have really degenerated. Our tongue has lost its holiness. The peculiarities of the Quaker discipline, and the rigid purity in which it requires the youth of that churcli to be educated, render it essential to their consistency to have seminaries proper to themselves. They do not, indeed, require colleges, for they have no priesthood, no order that is especially their own, requiring a certificate of qualification, but they needed a school, where they might see their children reared to a statiu-e of intellect commensurate to their station, their duties, and their intellectual desires. This desideratum Dr. Fothergill was anxious to supply, and he availed himself of the first opening that offered to make a beginning. We cannot record the conception and nativity of Ackworth better than in the words of Dr. Hird, related by Dr. Elliot. "On his return from Cheshire, through Yorkshire, in the year 177^5, lie did me the favour of being my guest a few days, during vhich time he was visited by many of his friends in those parts. In one of these interviews, the conversation turned on an institution at Gilder- some, a small establishment for the education of poor children amongst the society. The Doctor was inquiring into its state and management, and how far it might serve for a larger undertaking. A just description being given of it, with the following remark, that not only this but all others, however laudable the motives from Mhich they took their rise, must fail of success without a constant superintending care, and unre- mitting attention to the first great object of the institution ; this idea was exemplified by the then present state of the Foundling Hospital at Ackworth, which, although originating from the most humane principle, and erected at a vast expense, Avas, from rejieated inattentions to the first design, in danger of delapidation, and ready for public sale." The * The late Charles Lloyd, banker, of Birmingham, a man whom I should be thankful to Heaven for having known. J)R. JuJiN I'OTHKROILL 7]{) relation struck the Doct.ir fofcihiy. "Why may not tliis," said he, .'• serve tlic very purpose I am in jiursuit of?" To be short, tlie building and an estate of thirty acres of hind were purchased, improved, and furnishe and 720 DR. JOHN FOTHERGILL. 1776, wlien an influenza prevailed, he numbered, on an average, sixty patients a day, and his practice was supposed worth £8000 annually. His property at his death was estimated at £80,000. He was doubtless a fortunate as well as a good man. Among his services to literature, we must not omit his patronage of the voyager Sidney Parkinson, the introduction to whose voyage he drew up himself. About two years before his death, he Avas afflicted with a troublesome disorder, which he mistook at first for irregular gout ; though he never earned that gentlemanlike disease, taking much exercise, and Avas remarkably abstemious, seldom exceeding two glasses of wine after dinner or supper. His pains are said to have been aggravated, and perhaps his dissolution hastened, by his extreme delicacy. In his last illness he was attended by Dr. Warren, Dr. Watson, Dr. Reynolds, and jNIr. Pott, whose efforts produced a temporary relief; but the symptoms retiu'ned with increased violence, and finally terminated his existence on the 26th of December, 1780, in the 69th year of his age, at his house in Harpur Street. On the 5th of January following, his remains were deposited in the PViends' burial ground, at Winchmore Hill. Though only ten coaches were ordered to convey his relations and more immediate connections, upwards of seventy carriages attended the funeral, and some Friends came from a distance of a hundred miles to pay the last token of respect, to a man who had made their garb and discipline so honourable in the world's eye. Dying a bachelor, he left the bulk of his property to his sister, who was joined with IMr. Chorley in the executorship. By his will he directed that his collections in Natural History should be offered to Dr. Hunter, at 500/. less than the valuation. The doctor purchased them for 1200/. His choice selection of English portraits which lie bought for 80/. sold for 200 guineas; the house at Upton brought 1000/. As a professional man he was principally noted for the intuitive skill with which he divined the true character of a disease — when the diag- nosis was most perplexing, and administered the remedy which the idi- osyncracy of the case required. He was well-grounded in medical learning, not given to novelties; a careful observer of facts — and one that practised his art at once with the caution and the courage of bene- volence. In politics he was the friend of peace and liberty ; in religion, he was firm to the princii)le in which he was brought up. Neither wealth nor science, nor his own philosophical liberality, nor his widely extended friendship, ever estranged him from the simple piety of a Quaker. END OF VOL. r. HISTORICAL AND CHRONOLOGICAL INDEX. ANDREW MARVELL. PAGE Nov. 15, 1620. His birth and parentage, 3, 4 Entered at Trinity College, Cambridge, — Seduced by Jesuits — reclaimed by his father, . . . . . . . . — 1 C40. Left fatherless, . . . . . . 5 1641. Quits college abruptly, .. .. 6 His travels — meeting witli Milton, . . 7 Satires on Flecnoc and Maniban, . . 6, 8 1642. Returns to England — blank in liis annals, . . . . . . . . 8 1 652. Recommended by Milton to Brad- sliaw, . . . . . . • . 9 Instructs the daughter of Fairfax in languages, . . . . . . . . — 1 657. Tutor to Cromwell's nephew, 1 1 January', 1659. Returned member for Hull in Richard Cromwell's parliiv- ment, . . . . . . ..13 April 25, 1660. Member of the Healing Pai'liamcnt, . . . . . . — Nov. 20, 1660. Commencement of his correspondence with his constituents, 1 4 His opinions on a standing army, on the excise, on the bill for augmenting vicarages out of impropriations, &c. 12, 15 Dec. 29. Dissolution of the Healing Parliament, .. .. .. 16 Marvell elected for Hull a third time, 18 May 8, 1661. Meeting of the Pension Parliament, . . . . . . 18 Dissentions betwixt MarviU and his partner, Colonel Gilby, .. .. 19 1661 — 1663. Absence of Marvell from parliament, . . . . . . 20 PAGE June, 1663. Accompanies Lord Carlisle on an embassy to Russia, 6:c. .. 21 War wth Holland — Marvell's satire on the Dutch, . . . , 23, 24 1665. He returns to his parli.-imentary duties — Parliament at Osfonl, Five mile act passed, 1666. Annus MirabUis, 1667. Marvell's " Loyal Scot," .. 27 Paradise Lost — Marvell's vei-ses, , . 29 Prosecution of Clarendon, . . 30, 31 Difference between Mai-vcU's public and his private letters, . . 34, 35 lutcn-uption of liis public correspond- ence between 1671 and 1674, .. 40 His letter to a friend in Persia, 40, 41 Epigi-am on Blood, . . . . . . 42 Letter to William Ramsden. .Condition of Holland, . . . . . . 43 1 672. Commencement of his controvei-sy with P;irkcr, . . . . . . 44 " The Rehearsal Transprosed," . . 45 Answers to it, 51 Marvell's life threatened, . . . . 1673. " Second part of Rehearsal, &c." MaiTcU's defence of Milton, . , 52 Oct. 1674. His correspondence with his constituents renewed, . . . . 53 He refuses a present from the Duke of Monmouth, . . . . . . 1675. His " Mr. Smirke, or the Di\ine in Mode," 54 Reproof of clerical wits, . . . . 55 His correspondence with BishopCroft, 56, 57 4 Y 722 HISTORICAL AND CHRONOLOGICAL INDEX. PAGE Marvell's vii'tue attempted, . . . , 57 Anecdote of his integi-ity, . . . . 58 His acquaintance with King Charles, Prince Rupert, &c. . . . . 59 Dangers to which he was exposed, . . — 1678. Proclamation against his "Ac- count of the Growth of Popery." CO PAGE July 29. His last visit to Hull, . . 60 Aug. 16. He dies suddenly, under su- spicious circumstances, . . . . — The last member that received wages, 61 His person — Character as a senator, and as a poet, . . . . . . — Extracts from his poetry, . . 62, 63 RICHARD BENTLEY. Jan.27,1662. Bom at Oul ton, near Leeds, 68 His ancestrj', . . • . • • — School education at Methley and Wake- field, — Entrance at John's College, Cambridge, as Subsizar, . . . . . . 69 His academical progress, . . . . — 1682. Head Master of the Grammar school at Spalding, . . . • — Disposes of the Oulton ])roperty to his brother, . . . . . . • • — Domestic tutor to the son of Stilling- fleet, 70 July, 1683. Master of Arts, .. .. — 1689. Stillingfleet, Bishop of Worcester, — Bentley, with liis pupil, resides in Ox- ford, . . • • • • • • — Is incorporated M. A. . . • • — 1690. Ordained Deacon by Compton, Bishop of London, .. .. 71 1691. His " Epistola ad Millium," .. — Chaplain to the Bishop of Worcester — Bentley nominated first Boyle's lecturer — 1692. He is rewarded with a Prebend of Worcester, . . • • . . 72 1693. Made King's Library Keeper, .. — 1694. He preaches the Boylean Lec- tures a second time, . . . . 73 Prepares Editions of Manilius and Phi- lostratus, . . • • • • • • — His care of the University press, . . — 1695. Made locum-tcnens of the Rec- tory of Hartlebury, . . . . 74 PAGE and Chaplain to the King, . . 74 Elected F.R.S _ 1696. Takes possession of the Librari- an's apartment in St. James's Palace, — 1692. Origin and progress of the Phala- lis controversy, 74, 82 1699. Bentley's triumph, .. ,.83 July, 1696. He takes his Doctor's De- gree — preaches the commencement sermon, . . . , . . . . 74 Weekly meeting in the Librarian's apartment, consisting of Bentley, Wren, Evelyn, Newton, and Locke, 78 Feb. 1st, 1700. Bentley installed Mas- ter of Trinity College, . , . . 85 Inauspicious commencement of Bent, ley's Mastership. . . . . . , 86 The Master's lodge out of repair ; Bent- ley's passion for building, and expen- ses incun-ed thereby, . . . . — His Vice-Chancellorship, . . . . 87 He marries Joanna Bernard, . . Presents an address to King William, on the French Court's acknowledg- ment of the son of James II. . . 88 Is collated to the Archdeaconry of Ely, Causes of his unpopularity with the Fellows of Trinity, . . . . 89 1 702. He announces his intention of editing Horace, .. .. ..90 His innovations, . . . . . . 92 Ungracious reflection on the Fellows' ffourmandise, . . . . . . _ HISTORICAL AND CIlKONOLOGICAl, INDEX. 723 PAGS Dispute about preoption of diainhei-s, 93 March 8, 1702. AccesHion of Queen Anne, 94 1705. Her visit to Cambridge — Dunces' Holiday, . . . . . . . . — The Cotton Library — Bentley'a apart- ment in Cotton House, . . . . 95 1706. Founds an observatory, and a fhcmical laboratory, . . . . 98 And renovates the chapel, . . . . — 1707. His private pupils, .. ..95 1705 — 1708. His conespondencc with Hemstcrliuis, . . . . . . 97 1708. E.xpels two Fellows by his sole authority, . . . . . . 99 Makes the College pay for a new stair- case in the lodge, . . . . . . 99 Proposes a new division of the College funds, 100 Exorbitance of his demands for himself, — The proposal coldly received, . • — 1709. He threatens to prevent a divi- dend, . . . . . . . . — Arrival of Sergeant Miller ; open rup- ture, 101 1710. Appeal to tlic visitor — who is the visitor .' . . . . . . . . — The Fellows petition Moore, Bishop of Ely, — Their 54 interrogatories, published as a pamphlet ; Bentley's retort, . . 102 Change of ministry ; Mrs. Bentley's connection with Mr. Masham and Mr. Secretary St. John, . . . . — Bentley presents a petition to the Queen in council, asserting the visitatorial power of the cro\vn, .. ..103 Jan. 2, 1711. Legal delays ; first hearing of the case, . . . . . . — Five months' delay ; cautious decision of the Attorneyand SolicitorGeneral, July 12, 1711. Bentley addresses a letter to the Prime Minister Harley from Cotton House, .. .. ..104 An emhargo laid on the proceedings ; nothing done during the remainder of 1711 ; little in 1712, .. ..105 Jan. 9, 1712. The visitatorial power of the Bishop of Ely confirmed under PAGE 105 lOb" 107 11-. 108 109 a limitation; stniighuforward opinion of !Sir Joseph Jckyl, Fortieth statute of Klizabeth, The proiiibition still continued ; in- trigues of Harley, Reports of Bentley's removal to the Deanery of Litchfield, June, 1712. Attack on the Tory minis- try ; Bentley gets up a minisUrial address, 1712, 1713. Bentley attcmpU to starve his enemies to a surrender by stopping the dividend ; Letter of Dr. Stubbc to Harley, Easter Term, 1713. The prohibition taken off; Bishop Moore, through the Lord Bolingbroke, receives the Queen's permission to proceed as far as by law he was empowered. Rule of the King's Bench to shew cause, &c. Another year's delay; disturbed state of the nation. May, 1714. The Trial commences at Ely House, Counsel for the prosecution and for the defence. Principal charges in the 54articles, 110- State of public opinion at the com- mencement of the trial Becomes less favourable to Bentley ; he faints, . . He is con\-icted of violating the statutes of the college, and wasting its goods, July 31 . Before sentence is passed Bishop Moore dies, August 1. As docs Queen Anne the next day, . . All proceedings nullified. Literary labours of Bentley while the first trial was pending. Emendations in Davics's " Tuscukn Questions," .... And on Needham's " Hieroclcs," . . — 1709. Reprint of the "Principia" at Cambridge, under the superintend- ence of Roger Coales, . . . . — 1710. Controversy with Lc Clcrc, 116—118 110 112 113 114 116 "24 HISTORICAL AND CHRONOLOGICAL INDEX. FAGK Dec. 8, 1711. Completion ol the Ho- nicc ; dedication to Harley, • . 119 Criticisms which it occasioned ; Ker, Johnson of Nottingham, Cunning- ham, Pope, Warbuiton, Dr. King, — Testimonials to its merit ; Atterbiiry, 120 1713. Rise of the Frce-tliinkers ; An- thony Collins's " Discoui-sc of Free- thinking," 121 Its false citations triumphantly exposed by Bcntley, 122 Return to Trinity College, .. ..123 Bcntlcy's arbitrary distribution of offices — He endeavours vainly to put Miller nut of his Fellowship, .. ..124 Miller's new petition and articles, . . — Fleetwood, the new Bishop of Ely, refuses to take cognizance of the case, . . . . . . . . — 1714. The thanks of the University voted to Bentley for his services to Christianity, . . . . ..124 1715. His 5th of November sermon ; extract from, .. .. ..126 Alarm occasioned by Hickes's posthu- mous papers ; Bentley's charge to the clergy of the Archdeaconry of Ely, 1 27 April 15, 171 G. His letter to Archbishop Wake; proposed restoration of the New Testament text, .. ..128 1715. Renewal of the dissentions in Trinity College; accession of Dr. Colbatch to the malcontents, . . 136 Various causes of discontent, 1 37, 138, 139, 140 1 716. Petition to the King, to determine the visitatorial right, suggested by Archbishop Wake ; read in Council October 26th, 141 Bishop Fleetwood offers to resign the visitatorial power, . . . . — Change of ministry ; the petition missing, — Sept. College election ; violent measures to exclude Miller from his right as a Fellow, . . . . . . • . — Bcntley endeavours to buy hiai oil', . . 1 12 Miller offends the University by a pam- phlet, . . . . . . . . — Ministerial measures talked of to hum- ble the church, but never brought forward, . . , . . . . . 1 42 Bcntley manages a congratulatory ad- dress to tlie King on the suppression of the rebellion, .. .. .. 143 Proposal for a series of classic authors, " In usum Principis Frederici," to be edited by Bentley ; abortive, . . _ May 1, 1717. Bentley carries the Divi- nity Professorship by a coup-de- main, . . . . . . 144, 145 His Praslection on 1st John, v. 7, . . Duties and emoluments of the Pro- fessorship, .... . . . . 146 Oct. 1717. Royal visit to Cambridge, — Plans to annoy Bentley, . . . . — He is distinguished by the King's no- tice, 148 Demands a four guinea fee for confer- ring Doctor's Degrees, . . . . — Conyers Middleton prosecutes Bentley in the Vice-Chancellor's court, for the amount of the fee, . . . . 149 An Esquire Beadle sent to arrest the Professor, . . . . . . . . — Tlie Beadle insulted and interrupted in the discharge of his office, . . .— . Bentley declared to be in contempt of the L^niversity jurisdiction, . . — Oct 17, 1718. And degraded from all his degrees, . . . . ..150 He presents a petition to the King as Supreme Visitor, . . . . . . __ Awkward situation of the University, the Vice Chancellor summoned before the Council, . . . . .■ . — Makes an injudicious defence, . . — Nothing is concluded ; hopes of the Whigs that a commission will be appointed to examine the state of the Universities, .. .. ..151 1719. Paper War; Arthur Ashley Sykes, Dean Sherlock, Dr. Middleton, ... — Petition revived; Bentley compounds with Miller, who walks off with £528 of College money, and leaves his clients to their fates, ... .. 153 HISTORICAL AND CHRONOLOGICAL INDEX. (26 PAGE 1720. Middleton'8 "True Account of the Present State of Trinity College;" proves to be a libel, .. 154, 155 V.iin attempt to deprive Bentlcy of his Professorship, .. .. ,.158 Prosecution of the case, . . . . 155 Trinity term, 1721. Middlcton found guilty, — South Sea scheme ; Change of Ministiy; Act of Grace, .. .. ..150" Middlcton compelled to make an apo- logy, and pay taxed costs, . . 158 1720. Colbatch prosecutes Bentlcy for a Libel in the Vice-Chancellor's Court, 158 Bentlcy procures an order from the King's Bench to stay proceedings, IGO Colbatch's Jus Academicum; libellous passage therein, .. .. .. 161 Prosecution of Colbatch, interest made in his favour; treachery of Earl of Macclefield, 162 Feb. 1724. Bentlcy restored to his degrees by a peremptory mandanms of the King's Bench, .. ..163 A cessation of active hostilities for four years, . . . . . . . . — Dr. Newcome, iBentley's substitute in the Divinity chair, . . • . — 1 724, 1725, 1 726. A violent rupture between Dr. Bentlcy and Dr. Hare, 164 1 723. Death of Bishop Fleetwood — suc- ceeded by Bishop Green — who is willing to act as ^^sitor, under con- ditions, .. .. .. .. J64 Arbitrary proceedings of Bentlcy; no- mination of his son to a Fellowship at fifteen ; estate let to his brotlicr, &c. 1 65 Renewal of hostilities ; Colbatch applies to Bishop Gibson; to the Dean and Chapter of Westminister, . . . . — 1727. Questions proposed to Counsel, who decided tluit King Edward's sta- tute, Dc Visitatore, is still in force, J 66 April 25, 1728. King George 11. visits Cambridge. Dangerous illucss of Bentlcy, . . . . . . • • — PAGE A fresli combination against Bcntley, 166 Marcli, 1729. The Privy Council re- fusing to interfere, the Bisliop of Ely is at liberty to act, . . . . 167 April 1. Sixty-four articles of accusation drawn up ; Bentlcy cited to appear at Ely House, . . . . . . — May 3. Bcntley applies for a prohibition from the Court of King's Bench, — May 7. Rule to shew cause granted, — Various delays between 1729 and 1733, 167, 168 1730. Report that Bentlcy waa about to accept the Deanery of Lincoln ; his triumphant reception at Cambridge, 168 The prosecutor's appeal, by writ of error, to the House of Lords — Sher- lock' speech, ... ... ... 169 1733. The second trial at Ely House, — April 27. Bcntley found guilty of dihv- pidating the goods, and violating the statutes of college ; his deprivation pronounced, ... ... ... 170 Which sentence the Vice-master is or- dered to execute, ... ... — But which Vice-ISIaster Hacket delays to execute, ... ... ... — May 17, 1734. Hacket resigns the Vicc- Mastci-ship, and is succeeded by Walker, — Who finds a sufficient reason for not expelling his patron Bcntley, — May 28, 1738. Bishop Greene dies, 171 Which once more nullifies the proceed- ings, — 1731. Bentley's Milton, 172 His projected Homer, ... ... 173 1739. He is seized with a paralytic af- fection, ... ... ... ... — His domestic character and ftmiily, — Cumberland's description of him in his old age, ... ... ... 174 His partiality for port, and contempt for Clai-ct, ... ... ... .-• — July 14, 1742. His prcscntiuent of the length of his life, ... ■• — His death, ... ... ... ... — 720 HISTORICAL AND CHRONOLOGICAL INDEX. PAGE James Bentley, grandfather to the cri- tic, a captain in the Royal Army ; ta^ ken prisoner; dies in Pontefract Castle, 68 Thomas Bentley, father to the Critic, — James Bentley, hrothcr to Richard, 69, 165 Thomas Bentley, the nephew; allusion to him in the Dunciad, ... ... 119 PAGE Publishes a little Horace, ... ... 119 Collates MSS. for his Uncle, ...134 Richard Bentley, son of the Doctor entered of Trinity at ten. Fellow at fifteen ; was a dramatic and miscella- neous writer, ... ... ... 173 THOMAS LORD FAIRFAX. , PAGE His ancestry, ... ... 175,176,177 Jan. 1611. Birth, — Foreign service, ... ... ... 180 1635. Married Anne Verc, ... ... — 1642. Appeared on Heyworth moor at head of a multitude, ... ... 183 Appointed Master of the Horse under his father, ... ... ... 184 His first exploits, ... ... ... 185 Guards the pass of Wetherby, ... — Worsted, nearTadcaster, and withdraws to Selby, ... ... ... ... — Intrenches himself at Bradford for the winter, ... ... ... ... — Close of the first Campaign, ... — Hostilities in Yorkshire contiuue throughout the winter, ... ... 188 Jan. 2.3, 1643. Fairfax carries Leeds, .. . — Defeats Colonel Slingsby, ... ... — Receives the submission of Wakefield and Doncaster in the name of the King and Parliament, ... ... — Is proclaimed a Traitor, ... ... — Worsted on Bramham Moor, and on Sea-Croft Moor, 189 Unfavourable aspect of his party's af- fairs, ... ... ... ... — ' June 30. The Fairfaxes are defeated on Atherton Moor, ... ... ... — The younger is surrounded in Bradford, 190 Resolves to cut his way through the enemy, ... ... ... ... — His Lady taken prisoner, ... ... 191 PAGE Peril of his little daughter, ... ... 191 He is surprized on his way to Cawood, and wounded, ... ... ... — He arrives at Hull, 192 Courteous behaviour of Newcastle to the Lady Fairfax, ... ... _ Efforts of Faii-fiix to retrieve the Par- liamentary affairs, ... ... 193 Makes an excursion into Lincolnshire, and joins the Earl of Manchester's Army ; defeats a body of Royalists at Homcastle, ... ... ... 194 Siege of Hull raised]; the East Riding cleared, ... ... ... ... _ Close of the Campaign of 1G43; pros- perous state of the King's affairs, 195 Fairfax takes the Covenant, ... — June 21. He marches westward into Lancashire and Cheshire, .. 196 Defeats BjTon near Nantwieh, ... — 1644. Takes Monk Prisoner, ... — Feb. 28. Forms the Siege of Lathom House, 227 His conference with the Countess of Derby, 228 Formally demands a sun-cnder, ... — Is ordered back into Yorkshire, ... 196 Gains a victory near Selby, ... ... — Distress of the Scotch Army, ... 197 April 20. They form a juncture with Fairfax at Wetherby, ... . ■ • — Lay Siege to York; slow progress of Siege, — IlISTORICAl. AND CHKONOLO(;lCAI. INDEX, 727 U(7 1.98 202 203 205 206 Explosion of St. Mary's Tower; Fair- fax's lauilaldo case of tiic ancient records, &c. Advance of Rupert, junction of Ru- perts and Newcastle's Forces; the Siege of York raised. Critical situation of the Scotch and Parliamentary Armies, ... ... — Council of "War on Ilessey Moor; national Jealousies and Dissentions, July 2, 1644. Battle of Marston Moor, 199, 200, 201 July 15. Fairfa.\, Lesley, and Manches- ter resume the siege of York, It surrenders, Fairfax employed in reducing scattered Garrisons; wounded at Hclmslcy Castle; narrowly e-xcapes at Ponte- fract, . . . . • • April 3, 1645. The self-denying Ordi- nance, . . Fairfax, Commander in Chief of the Parliamentary Armies, Receives a present of £1500, Marches to Windsor, . . . . — Remodelling of the Army; Reformados, — Treaty of Uxhridge abortive, . . — Commencement of the fourth Cam- paign, . . • . • • • • — Disposition of forces on both sides, 206, 207 Fairf;LS wth Cromwell and the new modelled Anny at Windsor, . . — Assists Cromwell in evading the self- denpng Ordinance, . . . , — May 1. His March wcst\vard, and return, — June 5, Sits down before Oxford ; but quickly breaks up the siege, . . — June 14, 1645. B.ittle of Naseby, 208, 209 Distinguished personal courage of Fair- Overthrow of the Royalists, ... 210 June 18. Fairfax reduces Leicester, ... 212 Marches into the West, ... ... — Defeats Goring at Langport on Parret, Takes Bridgewater, Bath and Sherborne Castle, ... ... ... ... August 22. Commences the Siege of Bristol, ... ... ... ... — PAOK Which surrendered, Sept. 10, ... 212 Tiie plausible tenns of Fairfax's sum- mons, ... ... ... ... 213 Fiiirfax completes the subjection of the West, 215,216 Grants liberal terms to the Lord Hop- ton, 216 July 24, 1645. Takes possession of Ox- ford by capitulation, ... ... — His temperate conduct; care of the Bodleian ; Reduction of Ragland Castle, 217 Decline of Fairfax and the Presbyterian purty, — He conveys the price of the King to the Scotch Army, ... ... — Feb. 15, 1647. Meets the King] on his march,salutesand discourses with him, — March 5. He retunis to London; is voted General of the troops that were to be continued, . . ... ... — March 12. Made hononary Master of Arts of Cambridge, ... ... — Chosen Member for Circencester, ... — Discontents in the Anny; Council of -Agitators, 218 King's person seized by Joice; Fairfax vainly endeavours to set things agiiin in their due course and order, ... — Waits on the King at Sir John Cult's, — June 1 5. March to St. Albans ; encamp- ment on Hounslow Heath ; secession of sLxty-six members, ... ... — August 6. Enters London in defiance of the Parliament's orders, ... ... — Flight of the King from Hampton Court, 219 Fairfax concurs in the vote of the annv, " to stand by the Parliament, without the King, and against him." . . March 13, 1648. Succeeds to his father's titles and estates, . . . . . , ,_ April 9. Quells a revolt of the London apprentices, . . . . . . 220 June 2. Defeats a Royalist insurrection in Kent, . . . . . . . . June 13. Besieges Colchester, . . Aug. 28. Colchester sujTcnders, . . 728 HISTORICAL AND CHRONOLOfilCAL INDEX. His participation in " Pride's Purge," His behaviour during tlie King's execu- tion, .. .. .. .. Feb. 15, 1649. Nominated one of tlie Council of State, March 31. Voted General in Chief, June, 1650. Resigns his commission, Retires to Nun-Appleton, with a pen- sion of £5000 a year, PAGE 221 222 223 224 His prayers for the Restoration, Dec. 3, 165.9. He .appears in the field at the head of the Yorkshire gentry, Jan 1, 1660. Takes possession of York, Sits in the HeaKng Parliament, Waits on the King at the Hague, Lives retired after the Restoration, Nov. 12, 1671. Dies in the 60th year of his age. . . PAGE 224 JAIMES, SEVENTH EARL OF DERBY. PAGE His descent and buth, . . . . 225 1625. Knighted at the coronation of Charles 1. . . . . . . — Married to Charlotte de la Treniouille, — 1642. Joins King Charles at York, 226 Musters 60,000 men, . . . . — Meets vvith various mortifications, . . — His levies taken fi-om him as he was preparing for an attack on Manchester, 227 Hastens to his little kingdom of Man, — Feb. 38, 1641. Siege of Lathom House, — Heroic deeds of the Countess, 228, 229 The Earl returns ; recovers Bolton-le- Moors, . . . . . • . . — May 27, 1644. And raises the siege of Lathom, . . . . . . , . — Retires -with his Countess to the Isle of Man, . . . . . . . . — PAGE His children treacherously detained, 230 July 12, 1649. His indignant letter to Ireton, . . . . . . . . — 1651. Lands in Lancashire to join Charles the Second, . . . . • . — Is surprised in Wigan Lane, , . . . 23 1 Sept. 3, 1651. Battle of Worcester ; Derby aids Charles's escape, . . — He is taken, and led prisoner to Ches- ter, . . . . . . . . — Tried by a " High Court of Justice," — Oct. 15, 1651. And beheaded at Bol- ton-le-Moors, . . . • . . — His last letter to his Countess, . . — Account of his last hours .and death, by his attendant, . . . . . . 233 Charlotte de la Tremouille, Countess of Derby, . . 224, 228, 229, 232, 233 LADY ANNE CLIFFORD. PAGE J.an. 30, 1589-90. Her birth, ..269 Education under Mrs. Taylor and the poet Daniel, . . . . • • — Expenses of her breeding, .. ..271 Litigations with her uncle Francis, . . 276 Marriage with Sackvillc, Earl of Dor- set, 277 Its unhappiness. May 24, 1616. Death of her mother, March 14, 1617. King's award .igainst her, She becomes a mother, . . 1624. Death of her husband, . . Her first widowhood, PAGE 277 278 279 illSTOKIl AI. AND rilR().\<)l.t)(;iCAI. IM)[:\. 7'2i) 1G30. Miiirics Pliili|) JU-rlx-it, Karl cf Pembroke and Montgoiiu'ry, . . '27!' Jan. 23, 1650. His death, _ Her account of wedded lifi', ... ... 28-1 Repairs lier delapiduted Castles, ... I I Rebuilds the Cliurcli of Skipton, ... 2«7 March 22, l(J7o. Her death; aged 8«, — Her burial at Appleby, and funeral pane- pyrie, 291 ROGER AS C HAM. 1.515. Born at Kirby Wiske, 1530. Entered at John's College, Cam- bridge, 153 J. Takes his Batchelor's degiee 153b". Takes his Master's degree, 15-14, Publishes his Toxophilus, And thereby gains the patronage of Sir William Paget, And a pension from Henry Vlll. Writing ^Master to Prince Edward, Prin- cess Elizabeth, and the two young Brandons, 1547. Death of Henry VIII. ; his pension ceases. But is renewed during pleasure by Ed- ward VI., ... 1548. Tutor to the Princes P:iizabeth, ... Misunderstanding with the Princess, . . . Returns to Cambridge, PAGE 293 294 298 304 305 306 308 P.^GE 1550. Revisits Yorkshire, 312 Summoned to attend an embassy to the Emperor, . . . . Takes leave of Lady Jane Grey, Extracts from his correspondence, 316, Ascham's return to Cambridge, Is patronised by Gardiner, Appointed Latin Secretary, ... His pension enlarged, June 1, 1554. Marries Margaret Howe, Cardinal Pole's patronage of Asciiam, Nov. 17, 1558. Accession of Elizabeth, Maich 11, 1559. Ascham Prebendary of Wetwang, ... ... ... ... His disinterestedness, ... 325, .'^Jo' Supposed addiction to cockfighting, ... Dec. 30, 1568. His death, &c. ...320 His family, ... ... ... ... 313 317 318 319 319 325 JOHN FISHER PAGE 1459. Born at Beverley, 339 Instnicted by a Priest, ... ... — Entered of Michael House, Cambridge, — 1502. Almoner and Confessor to the Countess of Richmond, ... ... 340 First Margaret's Professor, ... ... — 1504. Bishop of Rochester, 340 1505. Superintends the foundation of Christ's College, ... ... ... — Death of Lady Margaret; Fisher's Funeral Sermon, ... ... •■• ... 346 Fisher completes the foundation of John's College, ... ... •■• 347 1516. Opens it with great solemnity, . . 355 Persecutes the Reformers, . . 356, 357 Reproves the vices of the Clergy, . . — Writes against Luther, . , . . C59 1529. Appears as Counsel for Queen Catherine, . . . . . . . . 360 Fisher's Speech, . . . . . . 368 1530. His life attacked by poison, . . 374 And by shot, .. .. ..375 1531. Bishop Fisher approves the King's Supremacy in Convocation, and pro- cures the insertion of a nullifying clause, . . . . . . . . __ 730 HISTORICAL AND CIlRONOLOfUrAL INDEX. I'AUE Imposture of Elizabeth Barton, . . 378 Fisher's delusion, . • . . . . 380 1534. Bill of attainder; Fisher and five others adjudged guilty of misprison of Treason, . . . . . . 382 His letter to the House of Lords, .. — Is treated with lenity, . . . . 383 March 30, 1534. An oath proposed to entrap tender consciences, . . . . — Fisher evades it by returning to Ro- chester, . . . . . . . • 384 Refuses the Oath, . . . . . . — April "26. And is committed to the Tower, . . . . . . . . — His integrity vainly attempted, . . 385 PACE Makes a partial concession, . . . . 385 April '27. Cranmer's letter to Crom- well, 386 Nov. 3. Meeting of Parliament; Fisher attainted, .. .. .. ... — His miserable condition and pathetic complaint, . , . . . . . . — May 21, 1535. Created Cardinal, ..388 Trepanned by the Solicitor General into an express denial of tlie King's Su- premacy, . . . . . . . . 389 From Jan. 1 1 to I'J. His trial, defence, and condemnation, . . 389, 390, 39 1 St. Alban's day, June 22. His last hours and execution, .. 391,392,393 THE REV. WILLIAM MASON. PAGE Feb. 23, 1725. His biith, .. ..397 1742. Entered of John's College Cam- bridge, . . . ■ • • • • 3^^ Early acquaintance with Gray, . . . . — 1745. Takes his Batchclor's dcgi-ee, .. 399 Fellow of Pembroke College, . . 402 1747. Publishes his 'Musaeus," ..401 1748. IIis"Isis," — 1749. Takes his Master's degree, .. 403 Ode on the installation of the Duke of Newcastle, 404 1751. His " Elfrida," .. -. 40G 1753. Death of his Father, .. .. 453 1754. He takes Orders, . . • • 454 Chaplain to the Earl of Holdeniess and to tlie King, . • • • • • — Meets Whitehead abroad, . . . . — 175C. Obtains the Vicarage of Aston, .. — He publishes four odes, . . • • — PAGt 1759. Publishes his " Caractacus," .. 454 1762. Made Canon of York, Prebendary of Driffield, and Precentor of York Minster, . . . . . . . . 457 1764. Publishesa Collection of his Poems — 1765. Marries Miss Maria Sherman, .. 457 Who dies in less than a year, . . . . — July 31, 1771. Death of Gray, .. 458 His Life \n'itten by Mason, . . . . — 1772. Publication of the 1st book of the English Garden, . . . . . . — 1773. " His Heroic Epistle to Sir Wil- liam Chambers, . . . . . . 464 Satires of Malcolm Macgregor, . . 460 1776. Caractacus and Elfrida ; acted, 428, 358 1777__82. 2nd, 3rd. 4tli. book of the English Garden, ... ••• ■■• 460 1794. Recantation and Palinode, .. 461 SIR RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. PAGE 466 Dec. 23, 1732. His birth, 1768. Erects his first spinning jenney at Preston, . . . . . . 468 Sets up at Nottingham, 1769. His first patent, 1775. His second patent, PACK , 468 . 469 IlISTOKICAL AND ( ilKUNULt I'AUF. 781. Jlis liisl liial, .. 470 nnn. His Kccond and third trials, . . .. 471 Aug. a. The pjitcnt set aside, .. 472 lie in kliiglitcil. 7:ii I' A (; E i70 WILLIAM ROSCOE. I'AUE Miirtli 8, 17o3. Ills birth and parentage, 484 Early propensity to Botany and the Fine Arts, 48.5 1770, Articled clerk to Mr. Eyes, ..490 1772. Joins a society for the encourage- ment of designing, &c. . . . . 498 About 1777, Publishes his " Mount Pleasant," and otlicr Poems, . . — 1781. lie nianics Miss Jane CJrifKcs, .. .503 '787. Publishes two tracts against the Slave Trade, 504 1(88. Celebrates the centenary of the Revolution in an ode, . . . . 50G 1789. French Revolution; Roscoc's two Odes, .509 1 792. " Church and King " mobs, ..511 1793. Roscoe's " Thoughts on the Causes of the Present Failure, . . . . — 1795. Publication of "Lorenzo de' Me- dici, .. .. .. ..517 1796. Roscoc retires from business, .. Publishes his " Exposure of the falla- cies of Mr. Burke," .. ..518 1797. lie visits London; commence- ment of his personal acquaintance with Fo.x, Grey, &e. ; his translation of Tansillo's " Nurse," .. ..518 1798. Establishment of tlic Liverpool Athenanim, .. .. .. 518 JoOO. Becomes a partner in tlie b;ink of Messrs. J. and VV. Clarke, .. 5I.'» 1802. Establishes tlie botanic garden at Liverpool, . . . . . . Ilis pamphlet " On tlie relative Situiu tion of France and England," . . 1805. " Life and Pontificate of Leo X.' — 1806. Roscoc M. P. for Liverpool, .. 524 1808. Roscoe's two pamphlets in favour of peace. ... ... ... . , — 1809. Roscoe's paper on the Scitamina;, 536 1810. His letter to Mr. Brougham on "Refonn," _ 1812. General election ; Roscoc propo- sc'd for Leicester ; his review of Can- ning's election speeches, . . . . 1814. Visit to Mr. Coke at Holkham ; Lord Leicester's Library ; delights of a book-worm, . . . . 537, 533 1815. The bank stops payment, ,. 1820. lie becomes bankrupt, .. .. — 1810'. Sale of his library, . . . . 539 Annuity purchased, . . . . . . 540 1822. His "Illustrations of the Life of Lorenzo do' Medici," . . . . " Memoir of Richard Roberts," . . 54 1 1824. His edition of Pope's Works, .. _ 1825. His splendid work on Scit-amina-, jl7 His pamphlets on criminal jurispru- dence, 547, 553. June 30, 1831. His deatli and character, 555 CAPTAIN COOK. Oct. 27, 1728. His birth, Education, apprenticeship, \i. 1 755. Enters llic Roval Naw, PAGK . . 557 557 558 559 1759. Raised to the posl of Master, .. 560 His services in America, . . 560, 561 Dec, 21, 1762. His marriage, ,. 732 HISTORICAL AND CHRONOLOGICAL INDEX. Projected expedition to observe the transit of Venus, . . . . . . 562 Cook raised to tlie rank of Lieutenant in the Navy, . . . . . . 563 August 1768. Commencement of his first gi-and voyage, . . . . . . 563 June 12, 1771. Conclusion of the cir- cumnavigation, . . . . • . — August 29. Cook made a Commander in the Navy, . . ... . . . . — From July 13, 1772, to July 30, 1775, His second gi-and voyage in search of PAGE Southern Continent, . . 624, 6.57 He is made Post Captain and Captain in Greenwich Hospital. F. R. S. &c. G57 His paper on the mctliod of preserving the health of crews on long voyages; honoured with the Copley Medal, 656' July 12, 1776. Origin and commence- ment of Cook's tliird voyage of dis- covery; in search of a North East passage, .. .. .. ... 657 Feb. 14, 177 J). Dcatli of Captain Cook 664 WILLIAM CONGREVE. 1669-70. His parentage, and birth, .. 667 Education at Kilkenny, and Duh- lin, . . . . • • • • — ] 693. " The Old Batchelor," . . 670 flakes Congrevc a comfortable Placc- 672 man, . . • • • • . . « / - 1694. " The Double Dealer," .. 67« 1695. " Love for Love," Lincoln's Inn Field, Betterton, 682 PAOE 1697. " The Mourning Bride," ..683 1698. Collier's "Short view, &c. Con- gi-eve's answer, . . . . 684, 686 1700. " The Way of the World," 688, 689 691 1714, 15. He obtains another place, and becomes a Poet of X' 1,200 a year, 692 Jan. 29. His interview with Voltaire . . — 1729. Death, — DR. .lOIIxV FOTHRRGILL. PAGE 1 1712. His birth and education, &c. .. 695 1736. Becomes a pupil at St. Thomas's — A student at Edinburgh, . . • . — 1736. Takes degree, — 1737. Visits Leyden. .. •• ^98 1739. Visits Aix-la-ChapcUe, Ai.v, &c. — 1740. Conmiences practice in London, — 1744, Licenciate of the College of Phy- • • 702 sicians, •• .. •• .. ("i- 1748. Publishes " An account of putrid sore throat," . . • • . . 70 1754. F. C. P. E. Fellow of the College of Physicians, Edinburgh, . . . • — 1765. Antony Purver's Bible, published at Folhergill's expense, .. ..718 PAGE Residence at Lea Hall, Cheshire, . . 719 1775 6. Influenza ; his i)racticc £8,000 7''>0 per annum, . . . . . . / -" 1778. Promotes the formation of Ack- worth School, .. •• .. 71o Dec. 26, 1780. Dies, .. •• 720 Jan, 5. His Funeral, . . • • His Will, ~~ Medical, moral, and religious character, — Instances of his benevolence, . . 713 719 His attachment to botany, .. ..711 Contributions to Gentleman's Maga- zine, .. .. 711,712,713 Letters to the Gazetteer, •• ..713 r. E. BINGLEY, PRINTER, TIMES OFFICE, LEEDS. F55/1749 J1.50 imJi Li li^a^' »' ,./// / /# /J, ws f >^\"1